For the generals were debating the important question whether they should rest there for the night, or push on. Outram was for halting; Havelock for completing the work that night. Little more than a quarter of a mile intervened between the troops and the Bailey Guard. The garrison were eagerly expecting them, for the watchers had seen officers in shooting-jackets and men in sun helmets, and European soldiers coming towards them, and trembled with the near prospect of deliverance. The distance, though so short, was every inch under fire. But at length Outram consented. The troops formed up, the generals rode forth at their head, the Highlanders and Sikhs leading the column; and giving a loud cheer, they dashed through an archway into the main street which led to the Bailey Guard Gate. The enemy occupied the windows and roofs of the houses on each side, and poured forth a torrent of fire. The road was cut by deep trenches, so that the artillery had to seek another road, but neither musketry nor trenches could stop that column. It was while seeing that the rear was properly brought up that Neill was shot by a party of the enemy through the ceiling of the archway under which the whole column had passed. No man who fell was more regretted. But the work had been done. Lucknow was relieved.
The garrison had seen the advance of that noble column; seen the Highlanders and Sikhs charge up the main street at a rapid pace, loading, shouting, firing as they stormed along; and almost before a cheer could be raised, Outram rode up, and dismounted at the embrasure of Aitken's Battery, near the Bailey Guard Gate. "Nothing," writes Mr. Gubbins, "could exceed their [the soldiers'] enthusiasm. The Highlanders stopped every one they met, and with repeated questions and exclamations of 'Are you one of them?'—'God bless you!'—'We thought to have found only your bones,' bore them back towards Dr. Fayrer's house, into which the general had entered. Here a scene of thrilling interest presented itself. The ladies of that garrison, with their children, had assembled in the most intense anxiety and excitement under the porch outside, when the Highlanders approached. Rushing forward, the rough and bearded warriors shook the ladies by the hand, amidst loud and repeated gratulations. They took the children up in their arms, and fondly caressing them, passed them from one to another to be caressed in turn; and then, when the first burst of enthusiasm and excitement was over, they mournfully turned to speak among themselves of the heavy loss which they had suffered, and to inquire the names of the numerous comrades who had fallen on the way. It is quite impossible to describe the scene within the entrenchment that evening. We had received no post, nor any but the smallest scrap of news, for 113 days since the date of the outbreak at Cawnpore. All had relatives and friends to inquire after, whose fate they were ignorant of, and were eager to learn. Many had brothers, friends, or relatives in the relieving force, whom they were anxiously seeking. Every one wished for news of the outer world, of Delhi, Agra, Calcutta, and of England. Everybody was on foot. All the thoroughfares were thronged; and new faces were every moment appearing of friends which one had least expected to see."
It was the Sikhs and Highlanders who had carved out a road to the Residency by the main street. The remainder of the column, with all the guns except two, were guided by Lieutenant Moorsom—a brave and accomplished young soldier—along streets and lanes that turned some of the Sepoy defences, and brought them to the place with little loss. At the same time, Lieutenant Aitken, with some of the faithful Sepoys of the 13th Native Infantry, sallying forth, materially aided the progress of the guns, and secured a parallel route to the Chutter Munzil. The loss of Havelock's force, since it crossed the Ganges on the 19th of September, was 535 killed and wounded. Thus Lucknow was relieved at the cost of a sixth of the little band that had started from Cawnpore.
It was anticipated that Sir James Outram, who now assumed command, would carry off the garrison. This was not found to be practicable, except at great risk and heavy cost of life. On making due inquiry, it was found that, with the supplies brought in, there was abundance of provisions for several weeks. Sir James, therefore, determined to remain. He divided his force into two parts. Colonel Inglis was left in command of the lines he had so long defended. Havelock was directed to take the remaining troops, and establish himself in the palaces and buildings to the east, on the road through which the troops had come in. This was done in three days. The soldiers now made themselves at home in the luxurious palaces of Lucknow. They were in comparative comfort and safety, but shut out from the rest of India: comparative, for the enemy renewed his mining operations; directing them now against the buildings under Havelock's charge. But at this work he was foiled by the skill and science of Colonel Robert Napier and Captain Crommelin. Guarding against these tricks of the enemy, enduring a fire of guns and musketry less severe and less deadly, and poorly fed, our men, without a murmur, held on for eight more weeks, when the Commander-in-Chief himself arrived, and snatched them, as it were, from the jaws of death.
The Government of India had now become fully aware of the character of the mutiny, which in Oude, Rohilcund, and Central India, had been supplemented by an insurrection. In Oude a strong spirit of hostility was manifested; and although many talookdars held aloof from the rebels, they did not join the Europeans. In Rohilcund and Central India the insurrectionary forces were masters of the field from the Ganges to the frontiers of Oude, from the Nerbudda to the Jumna. In Bombay there were intermittent signs of disaffection, and sharp remedies had to be promptly applied. Lord Elphinstone ruled with an iron hand—clad in a velvet glove, it is true, but none the less effective for that. He had his own difficulties to contend against—hostility in Kolapore, and Sattara, and Candeish; mutiny also in some recently-raised regiments—but all these he overcame. Madras was quiet, and as Bombay sent troops to the Nerbudda Valley and Rajpootana, so Madras sent a column to cover the frontier of Nagpore, and reinforcements to Bengal—European infantry, who took part in several battles, and native infantry and native guns, which did good service.
Except during the spring, neither the Indian nor the Home Government underrated the magnitude of the struggle, and the thousands of troops embarked in the summer began to pour into Calcutta by battalions at the end of September. The China troops had all been intercepted before that time, and had been sent up the country. The sailors of the Pearl and the Shannon had been landed with some of their heavy guns, and had been sent up the Ganges, with Captain William Peel and a sailor brigade, forming a part of the army rapidly gathering at Allahabad and Cawnpore. For as soon as it became certain that Outram and Havelock could not bring off the Lucknow garrison, treasure, women and children, guns and ammunition, Sir Colin began to organise a force for their relief and rescue. Throughout the month of October this force was being collected at Cawnpore. Except the China regiments, all the troops employed were those already in India. The whole strength was about 4,550 men, with forty-nine guns, including Peel's eight heavy pieces, manned by his gallant tars. This force, gradually collected, was completed by the arrival of Greathed's force from Delhi, which, we have already stated, arrived at Cawnpore on the 26th of October.
As soon as he heard of Greathed's arrival, Sir Colin Campbell quitted Calcutta, and "travelling like a courier," reached Cawnpore on the 5th of November. Part of the troops had already gone on, with large convoys, to the Alumbagh, which, it will be remembered, was held by part of Outram's force, now under the orders of Brigadier Hope Grant, who arrived in time to repel a smart attack made by the enemy. The troops had commenced the passage on the 30th of October, and the bulk of the troops were near Alumbagh by the 5th of November. On the 9th Sir Colin reached that place, and on the 11th he reviewed his army. As the Gwalior Contingent—a force of all arms, the nucleus of a large native army—had come up to Calpee, it was not without some apprehensions that Sir Colin left General Windham, of Redan renown, with about 500 men, to guard the small entrenchment that protected the bridge over the Ganges. Nevertheless, as he knew Windham would be reinforced by the troops coming daily up the Ganges from Calcutta, and as it was imperative that Lucknow should be relieved, he left Windham to do his best, and gathered up his strength for a deadly blow at the Oude insurrection.
As soon as General Outram was informed of the early approach of Sir Colin Campbell, he sent plans of the city and its approaches to the Alumbagh, and arranged with Brigadier Grant a code of signals to be worked by means of the old semaphore. The garrison also sent a guide. Fired with the desire of winning the Victoria Cross, Mr. Kavanagh, of the uncovenanted service, volunteered to join the Commander-in-Chief. The offer was accepted. Staining his face, shoulders, and hands with lampblack, putting on the gay dress, and carrying the simple arms of an irregular mutineer, Kavanagh, guided by a native scout, forded the Goomtee at night, dressed on the opposite bank, walked up the river, and recrossing at the iron bridge, made his way through the heart of the city of Lucknow. Emerging in the open country through the enemy's pickets, he pushed on and reached Sir Colin's camp. This is one of the most daring acts ever done in India, since James Outram made his way from Afghanistan to Bombay disguised as a groom. And Kavanagh had his reward, obtaining not only the Victoria Cross in due time, but a reward of £2,000 and admission into the regular civil service. The telegraph soon told not only that Kavanagh had come in safely, but that on the 14th Sir Colin would march on Lucknow.
At nine o'clock on the 14th the army was in motion. Passing to the rear of the Alumbagh, Sir Colin directed his columns upon the Delkoosha Palace and Park, and a fantastic building a little to the west of it, called the Martinière. This side of Lucknow was a mass of groves, gardens, enclosures, and palaces, with stretches of green-sward and cultivated patches between. By sweeping so far to the eastward Sir Colin avoided the defences which the Sepoy mutineers and their allies had accumulated on the canal, and about the bridge stormed by Havelock. They had dammed the canal, in order to deepen the water above, and thus outwitted themselves, for they left it dry below, and easy of passage even for heavy guns. After a brief march, the skirmishers came under fire, but pressing on, they chased the enemy through and out of the park, and entered the palace. Then, turning half left, the troops made for the Martinière. Here there was a smarter defence, for the enemy had begun to comprehend the drift of Sir Colin's manœuvre. A number of guns opened on both sides, and the rattle of musketry shook the air; but the infantry leaped over the wall, and with the bayonet soon cleared the building and the enclosure, while the horsemen, dashing through, hunted the enemy over the canal into the suburb on the other side. The troops were now in position from the canal on the right to the Delkoosha Park wall on the left. To cover that flank and protect the road to the Alumbagh, Brigadier Russell seized two villages in front of the left and garrisoned them with Sikhs. Thus posted, the troops prepared to pass the night, when suddenly the enemy assailed the whole position. The troops turned out rapidly and drove them back with great slaughter, and to guard against a similar occurrence, a strong force of all arms bivouacked on the canal. The next day the troops rested in position, and completed the arrangements essential for the safety of the baggage and the line of communications. The garrison of Lucknow were disappointed, and looked on with apprehension; but on the evening of the 15th they were rejoiced to see the telegraph at work, and to read off the signal, "advance tomorrow." For they had prepared the means of making a diversion in favour of the assailants, and the powder in the mines was getting damp during this delay.
Early on the 16th the guns and infantry, except the Sikhs, were withdrawn from the left, and the columns were formed to attack the enemy's position. This consisted of the Secunderbagh across the canal, and near to the Goomtee. Sweeping to the right, the troops moved on, and about mid-day reached the front of the enemy's lines. The Secunderbagh was surrounded by a high wall, loopholed on all sides, and flanked by towers. The whole formed a formidable front, as each group of buildings was supported by another. Nevertheless, the exterior defences were rapidly carried. The guns dashed up under a cross fire and opened on the villages, and the infantry, in open order, closing with the defenders, expelled them. The bulk of the leading brigade then turned upon the Secunderbagh, while the skirmishers stretched away to the left, sweeping the foe before them, and seizing each post of vantage. In the meantime two 18-pounders had been engaged in breaching the main wall of the garden. They had broken down a part of the wall, a small hole through which three or four men could enter abreast. Sir Colin thought his men could carry it, and he started the 93rd and 53rd and 4th Punjabees at the place. They bounded in with a cheer. The houses and the garden were full of Sepoys. Four regiments, upwards of 3,000 men, were caught in this trap. Burning with rage, our troops plied the bayonet with such good will that the enclosure, 120 yards square, became a mere pile of carcases. "There never was a bolder feat of arms," wrote Sir Colin; and rarely, perhaps never, such a horrible slaughter. Still on went the column. The work was not over. Several strong places intervened between the assailants and their friends inside. A little farther on was the Shah Nujeef. Here was another feat of arms. "Captain Peel," says Sir Colin, "led up his guns, with extraordinary gallantry, within a few yards of the building, to batter the massive stone walls. The withering fire of the Highlanders effectually covered the naval brigade from great loss. But it was an action almost unexampled in war; Captain Peel behaved very much as if he had been laying the Shannon alongside an enemy's frigate." This terminated the operations of the day. Indeed, the closing scenes were acted in darkness, illumined only by the fire of the guns, the rockets, and the shells. Thus far had Sir Colin penetrated towards the Chutter Munzil. Between him and it lay the Motee Munzil, to reach which he must come under the guns and musketry of the Kaiserbagh. During this contest outside, Havelock and Outram had not been idle. By dint of mine and battery they had so wrought that, not only had they cleared a part of the road between them and their friends, but had materially assisted in engaging the Kaiserbagh and other buildings full of men and guns. They had made a desperate sortie, and wrought a passage by powder, bayonet, and torch. From the top of the Chutter Munzil the whole scene—domes, minarets, palaces, groves and gardens, all alive with combatants, and mantled in smoke—was visible, and there, aloft, Outram and others, under fire from the other side of the Goomtee, watched the progress of Sir Colin, till night fell.