After the carnage at Meerut the mutinous sowars poured out unchecked along the high road to Delhi, to spread the news of their success and claim in the old, enfeebled pantaloon Mogul king in that city a political head to their revolt. Delhi received them open-armed. There were no British troops there, by special treaty, only a few Englishmen in charge of the great magazine and its stores.
It is quite clear that the 31st of May (a Sunday) was the day fixed for the sepoy regiments in Bengal to rise simultaneously. Unforeseen events had precipitated the catastrophe by a few weeks. In Delhi, which was a nest of treason and intrigue, arrangements had been perfected for the outbreak there, one of the first objects to be attained being the seizure of its arsenal. Hither, then, the mutineers turned at once after their triumphant entry.
The magazine of Delhi was a huge building standing about six hundred yards from the main-guard of the Cashmere Gate. Within its four walls were guns, shells, powder, rifles, and stores of cartridges in vast quantities, from which the mutineers had relied upon arming themselves. And to defend this priceless storehouse there was but a little band of nine Englishmen, for the score or so of sepoys under their command could not be depended on.
The Nine comprised Lieutenant George Willoughby, Captains Forrest and Raynor, Sergeants Stuart and Edwards, and four Conductors, Buckley, Shaw, Scully, and Crowe. Willoughby was in charge, a quiet-mannered, slow-speaking man, but possessed of that moral courage which is perhaps the highest of human attributes. When the shouting horde from Meerut swarmed in and began to massacre every white person they met, he called his assistants inside the courtyard and locked the great gates. At all costs the magazine must be saved from falling into the hands of the mutineers.
There was not a man of the eight but shared his leader’s determination. With set, grim faces they went about their work, preparing for the attack which must come sooner or later. There were ten guns to be placed in position, several gates to be bolted and barred, and, last of all, the mine to be laid beneath the magazine. Help would surely come—come along that very road down which the sowars of the 3rd Bengal Cavalry had galloped with bloodstained swords and tunics. But if it did not, the Nine knew their duty and would not flinch from doing it.
With all possible speed the front entrance and other important vulnerable points were covered with howitzers, loaded with grape-shot. Arms had been served out to all, including the native employees, but the latter only waited the opportunity to escape. In the meantime Conductor Buckley saw to the laying of the mine, connecting it with a long thin line of powder that ran out to the centre of the courtyard under a little lemon tree.
Conductor Scully begged for the honour of firing the train when the fatal moment came, and obtained his desire. A signal (the raising of a cap) was then arranged to be given, at which he was to apply his port-fire to the fuse.
All being at last in readiness, the Nine stood at their several posts waiting for the enemy to make the first move. They had not to wait long. Within half an hour came an urgent messenger from the Palace bearing a written summons to Willoughby to surrender the magazine. The Head of the Nine tore up the paper and gave his answer.
Soon after appeared a body of sepoys, men of the Palace Guard and of the revolted Meerut regiments, with a rabble of city people.