VI.
EN ROUTE FOR LUCKNOW.
About this time I seized an opportunity of getting a few days' leave to run over to Meerut. Soon after my return the Corps of Guides which, since its arrival in the camp before Delhi after its famous forced march from the far frontier, had continuously rendered services not eclipsed by any other troops which had the honour to take part in the siege, received orders to return to Hoti Murdan. Its losses, both in the cavalry and infantry branches of the regiment, had been so numerous that it became absolutely necessary to fill their places with recruits.
To my deep sorrow my connection with this distinguished regiment then came to an end; but while I live it will always be a source of pride to me to have been privileged to serve with it, even for so short a time, during the memorable siege of Delhi.
Though Delhi had fallen and the Punjab was secure, the revolt was yet far from having been suppressed in the Provinces of the North-West and Oudh. There was still plenty of service to be seen in those parts; and I was naturally anxious to find my way down to them. In those days it was fortunately not very difficult to get to the front when any fighting was to be done. There was work for every one, and plenty of it. Since then, many a keen soldier not possessed of influential friends at head-quarters, has had to be content to find himself shut out from the series of "little wars," so prolific of medals and decorations and brevet promotion, which seem providentially provided for the swift advancement in the service of his more fortunate comrades who are equipped with that best of military qualifications—"interest."
Not to digress, however, the opportunity was afforded me of getting transferred to the 1st Sikh Irregular Cavalry, a corps which had been newly raised in the Punjab by the late Captain Wale, and was commanded by him; and which about this time arrived at Delhi en route to join Sir Colin Campbell's forces in the south. That regiment began, under Wale, a distinguished career which it continued under Probyn in China. It is now the 11th Prince of Wales's Own Bengal Lancers, and still maintains its high reputation among the many splendid regiments which compose the Bengal and Punjab Cavalry; a force of horsemen which, it is safe to say, is not excelled, as regards all the best qualities of light cavalry, by any troops in the world.
If the smart 11th Bengal Lancers could see themselves as they appeared when, as the 1st Sikh Irregulars, they marched down the grand trunk road from Delhi in the winter of 1857, they would be not a little amused and astonished. Every variety of bit, bridle, saddle tulwar—every variety of horse, entire, mare, and gelding,—of all heights, from 15 hands to animals little bigger than ponies. Such were the equipment and the mounting of the regiment; and our notions of drill were at first equally primitive. It was all we could do to "form threes right" or "left." The men, however—if no two of them rode alike, and none of them had a "cavalry seat"—were undeniable horsemen; and there was never any difficulty in getting them, when an enemy was before them, to form some sort of a line to the front, and to ride as hard and as straight, if not with quite as good "dressing," as the better drilled troops of the present day.
On our first march from Delhi a comical incident, which, however, might easily have turned out rather a serious one, occurred. I was riding with the advanced files, when a young native woman, wielding with both hands a very long straight double-edged sword, such as is frequently used by acrobats at Indian festivities, suddenly appeared in the middle of the road and barred our way. The creature must have been mad or under the influence of "bhang" or some other intoxicant; for she deluged us with a torrent of abuse as she vigorously brandished the long thin blade. For a moment I was nonplussed: the situation was so entirely novel! Mad or sane, the virago evidently meant business. There was clearly no getting past her without a fight; and that was quite out of the question.
"Shoot her, sahib," said one of the sowars with me, little troubled with the polite consideration for the sex which the obligations of an effete civilisation imposed upon his British officer. At that moment, as if by inspiration, a "happy thought" flashed on my mind. "Give her galee," (abuse) I said to the sowar; "and give it her hot and strong, and plenty of it." Instantly grasping the idea, the grinning sowar opened such a battery of abuse of the vilest and most comprehensive nature upon the unfortunate young person and her female relatives to the remotest degree that her own fire was promptly silenced. Encouraged by this success, the sowar redoubled his efforts; and slung such awful and shameful language with such force and precision that the rout of the enemy speedily became complete. Dropping her long sword and stuffing her fingers into her ears, she fled with a horrified shriek; and we marched triumphantly on, chuckling at the success of our tactics.