The street into which they filed appeared to be deserted. As a matter of fact it was full of sepoys, who were concealed in the houses on either side. This was the narrow street leading to the Bailey Guard Gate, the entrance to the Residency; along its three-quarters of a mile, some hours previously, the 78th Highlanders and Brasyer’s Sikhs had won their way through a perfect tempest of shot. A similar reception awaited the dhoolies.
As the ill-fated train passed through and gained the square at the farther end, the storm of musketry broke into full blast over their heads. In a moment the panic-stricken bearers dropped the dhoolies and fled for dear life, leaving the wounded men in the middle of the square exposed to every sepoy marksman. The fire of close on a thousand muskets must have been concentrated on that small enclosure, but Surgeon Home managed, with nine men of the escort, to get half a dozen of the wounded within the shelter of a building before which was a covered archway.
Surgeon Bradshaw, meanwhile, who had been in the rear of the train, had collected his dhoolies as soon as the nature of the trap was disclosed, and turned hastily back to seek the turning that their guide ought to have taken. The luckless Thornhill had been killed, having been one of the first to be shot down. It is satisfactory to add that Bradshaw was successful in bringing his dhoolies to safe quarters without further mishap.
Would that such had been the case with Surgeon Home! He and his party had gained shelter for the time, but none could say how long it would be before the horde of sepoys would storm it. The most daring of the mutineers had already ventured out into the square to kill those of the wounded whom they could reach and to fire through the windows of the house.
The heroes of what became known afterwards as Dhoolie Square were, besides Home, Privates McManus, Ward, Ryan, and Hollowell. These gallant fellows, but for whom the whole company must have been massacred, formed part of the military escort. Patrick McManus, who was an Irishman of the Northumberland Fusiliers, was a noted shot. Taking up a position immediately behind one of the pillars of the archway, he coolly fired shot after shot until a number of sepoys had fallen victims to his unerring aim. The rest of the rebels retreated before his rifle and sought shelter within the houses.
McMANUS NOW RUSHED OUT, ACCOMPANIED BY PRIVATE JOHN RYAN … AND CARRIED IN CAPTAIN ARNOLD.—[Page 98.]
This pause afforded an opportunity for rescuing those of the wounded who lay within reach. With his deadly rifle in his hand, McManus now rushed out, accompanied by Private John Ryan (a Madras European Fusilier), and carried in Captain Arnold, who had been shot in both legs. A second time they ventured out, and in the rain of bullets they drew upon themselves succeeded in dragging another poor fellow from the slender security of his dhoolie to more certain safety. But their errand of mercy was in vain: though neither of the rescuers was hit, Arnold and the other wounded man (a private) were struck again and again, both dying soon after.
Private Ward, a 78th Highlander but a Norfolk man by birth, had a little previously saved the life of Lieutenant Havelock. The dhoolie in which the young officer lay would have been abandoned had not Ward, by force of blows, compelled the native bearers to carry it behind the pillars of the arch.
Inside the house that sheltered Home and the others the surgeon was hard at work attending to his wounded, most of whom were in worse case than when they started on their journey. If he stopped in his task it was only to snatch up a rifle and take a shot at some sepoy who was within sight. With consummate daring the rebels braved McManus and crept up to the window of Home’s room. One man, whom he shot with his revolver, was no more than three yards away from him at the time.