Cawnpore is a large station. Seated on the right bank of the Ganges, it is midway between Lucknow and Calpee and Agra and Allahabad. Thus, it was one of the most important stations in the Doab of the Ganges and Jumna—a central point whence troops might move on an enemy or intercept one on four great lines. There were three regiments of native infantry, the 1st, 53rd, and 56th, and one regiment of native cavalry, in the station. There were about sixty European artillerymen and six guns. The commandant was Sir Hugh Wheeler, a soldier who had served under Lord Lake fifty-four years before, and who then and since had led Sepoys in battle in half a dozen great campaigns. There were at Cawnpore the wives and children of the men of the 32nd Foot; a number of ladies, wives of officers and civilians, and many merchants and traders and their families. Agitated by the earlier incidents of the mutiny, the natives were more deeply stirred by the outbreak at Meerut and Delhi, and General Wheeler felt that no trust could be placed in the men he commanded. But he was absolutely powerless. He had only sixty-one Europeans. He could not disarm the Cawnpore garrison. He could only wait and watch, and prepare some ark of refuge, however frail. Nor had he much time. News of the Delhi massacres arrived on the 14th of May. The troops gave no outward sign. A few days afterwards Mrs. Fraser entered the station. Her husband had been slain at Delhi, and she had travelled down 266 miles in safety. A native had undertaken to perform the journey, and he did. This lady was a real heroine, and in the dreadful days at hand, regardless of herself, she gave up everything to soothe and minister to the wounded.
On the 20th of May all communication with Delhi and Agra had ceased. Fires broke out in the native lines, and prophecies of evil were uttered. Sir Hugh Wheeler entrenched an old hospital—two brick buildings, one thatched, one roofed with stone. The entrenchment was so slight that a British horseman could have leaped in anywhere. In this enclosure the guns were placed, and the women and children were ordered to take up their quarters therein. Stores of food, but not sufficient, were laid up. Happily, ammunition was plentiful. There were nine guns in the work. Still there was no sign of mutiny. But, as the treasure was exposed, Sir Hugh and Mr. Hillersden requested the Nana Sahib of Bithoor to supply a guard. He complied, bringing down troops of his own, and taking up his quarters in the civil lines. Who was the Nana Sahib? He was the son of a Brahmin living near Bombay. His name was Seereek Dhoondoo Punt. Bajee Rao, the last Peishwa, having no issue of his own, adopted him; and when, for his treachery, Bajee Rao was dethroned, the Government granted him a pension, and sent him to live at Bithoor, on the Ganges, a few miles above Cawnpore. When he died, the Nana, by forging a will, obtained his enormous wealth; but Government refused to continue the pension allowed to the late Peishwa. That Nana Sahib never forgave, but he showed no sign of resentment. He lived a life of the lowest sensual indulgence in the splendid fort at Bithoor. He was on the most friendly terms with the British officers, frequently entertaining them at Bithoor, but accepting no hospitality in return. He had for prime minister, or chief agent, one Azimoolah, originally a waiter, then teacher in the Government schools at Cawnpore, then agent to Nana Sahib. Azimoolah was sent to London to pray the Board of Directors to grant the Nana his pension. He came in 1854, was a lion in society, much admired by the ladies, at one time nearly carrying off one to grace his harem. He returned to India by way of Constantinople, and was there in the depths of that dreary winter when our soldiers were holding the heights at so much cost.
After the 20th of May the Sepoys did not conceal their feelings. They held nightly meetings; the character of those meetings was known from spies. The 2nd Cavalry, especially, displayed hostility; and when Sir Hugh sought to remove the treasure, the Sepoys would not part with it, and it had to be left under the joint care of them and Nana Sahib. On the 21st, all the European residents, except one, Sir George Parker, cantonment magistrate, entered the entrenchment. The next day a company of the 32nd, under Captain Moore, arrived from Lucknow, lent by Sir Henry Lawrence. For a week there was dreadful suspense; then 160 men of the 84th Foot and Madras Fusiliers arrived, with the cheering news that more troops were on their way. On the 26th Sir Hugh thought he should soon be able to dispense with the 32nd men, and hold his own until troops came from Calcutta. But the mutinies at Benares and Allahabad put an end to the fulfilment of that hope. There is every reason to believe that at this time Nana Sahib was playing a double game, and that he found willing agents in the 2nd Cavalry. But up to the last moment the Sepoys affected loyalty, and actually gave up one man on a charge of spreading sedition. But the poison of mutiny had worked deeply into their hearts, and the day of disaster duly arrived.
Up to the 4th of June the officers had slept in the native lines. After that day Sir Hugh would not allow them to do so any more, and they found corners in the entrenchment. The signs of approaching mutiny were now plain. There were 210 soldiers of the artillery, the 32nd, the 84th, and the Madras Fusiliers, about a hundred officers, the same number of merchants and clerks, and forty drummers; giving a total of 450 fighting men, and nine guns. It has been well said that these could have fought their way out in any direction; but encumbered with 330 women and children, they could do nothing but remain and wait for succour. On the night of the 6th of June the 2nd Cavalry rose. Captain Thomson, one of the few survivors of the Cawnpore tragedy, thus describes the mutiny: "An hour or two after the flight of the cavalry, the 1st Native Infantry also bolted, leaving their officers untouched upon the parade ground. The 56th Native Infantry followed the next morning. The 53rd remained till, by some error of the general, they were fired into. I am at an utter loss to account for this proceeding. The men were peacefully occupied in their lines, cooking; no signs of mutiny had appeared amidst their ranks; they had refused all the solicitations of the deserters to accompany them, and seemed quite steadfast, when Ashe's battery opened upon them, by Sir Hugh Wheeler's command, and they were literally driven from us by 9-pounders. The only signal that had preceded this step was the calling into the entrenchments of the native officers of the regiment. The whole of them cast in their lot with us, besides 150 privates, most of them belonging to the Grenadier company. The detachment of the 53rd posted at the treasury held their ground against the rebels about four hours. We could hear their musketry in the distance, but were not allowed to attempt their relief. The faithful little band that had joined our desperate fortunes was ordered to occupy the military hospital, about 600 yards to the east of our position, and they held it for nine days, when, in consequence of its being set on fire, they were compelled to evacuate. They applied for admission to enter the entrenchments, but were told that we had not food sufficient to allow of an increase to our number. Major Hillersden gave them a few rupees each, together with a certificate of their fidelity."
SIR HENRY HAVELOCK. (After the Portrait by F. Goodall, A.R.A.)
The first impulse of the mutineers was to march on Delhi. There, they rightly judged, the struggle would be fought out. They had laden elephants with treasure, and carts with ammunition and plunder. They had marched forward on the road, when Nana Sahib beset them with offers of service, and incitements to destroy their white masters. For some time they resisted; but the temptations proved to be too seductive, and they enlisted, as it were, under the flag of one who dreamed of restoring the Mahratta empire. So the whole force turned back towards Cawnpore, and sat down before the entrenchment. To please his new followers, Nana Sahib hoisted two standards—the Moslem and the Hindoo flag. To gratify his troops, he directed the sack of the European houses, and even those of wealthy natives in Cawnpore. He took possession of the store of shot and shell; he mounted heavy guns. To give a colour of fairness to his conduct, he notified to Sir Hugh Wheeler by letter that he intended to attack him, and he followed up the threat by opening fire on the 8th of June.
The little garrison of Cawnpore, thus beleaguered, held out for twenty days, and even then yielded honourably to famine, not arms. Their sufferings during this time can neither be imagined nor described. The entrenchment was about 250 yards square. The mud wall had been made by digging a trench and throwing the earth outwards. Thus, about five feet cover was obtained; but where the spaces were left for the guns there was no cover at all. From the eastern side a little redan was made and armed, and at three other points there were small batteries. As muskets and ammunition abounded, five or six loaded muskets, with bayonets fixed, were placed near each man in the trenches, so as to ensure a rapid fire. In the centre of the entrenchment was a well. Near it were two buildings, each having only a single storey, and one only a stone roof. They were intended to accommodate a company of a hundred men. Within them were stowed more than three hundred women and children, and the sick. The heat was so fierce that it was often impossible to hold a musket barrel, and once or twice muskets exploded from heat alone. Think, then, what these women and children must have suffered, crowded together in those barracks. As soon as the place was beleaguered, men drew water at the risk of their lives, and from the beginning of the siege not a drop could be spared for purposes of cleanliness. With scanty clothing, meagre diet of flour and split peas; with water, often bought for its weight in silver from the men who drew it, and measured out in drops; with cannon thundering day and night, with shot and shell tearing through the buildings, with the sickness of hope deferred upon them, who can imagine the agonies of those weary hours? The men, all save one officer, went forth to fight, but the women could only watch and wait, and listen to the piteous cries of children, whose throats were parched, whose lips were baked with thirst. For the men there was the chance of a death-struggle, or death from shot or shell. Nothing but patience and longsuffering for the women. Some went mad; some sought death; but others behaved as angels may, with a courage, a fortitude, a forgetfulness of self, men may imitate but not excel.
This little enclosure was defended solely by the courage of the garrison. The Sepoys had seen how white men fight, how they dare danger in every shape, almost in sport, above all, how in battle they stand by each other with never-failing confidence. The prestige of the British soldier never stood him in better stead than in this Indian mutiny. Driven to bay here with such slender defences as we have described, it is a fact that the surrounding multitudes never once charged home. In a very few days the original force of mutineers was tripled. There came up men of the 6th from Allahabad, and men of various regiments from Oude, and hordes of scoundrels from all the country side, until there were 10,000 armed men raging round the little force. They had three mortars and ten guns firing night and day, in addition to the musketry of the Sepoys. The entrenchments were entirely commanded from two buildings, and all around there was plenty of cover; yet with all these numbers and advantages the cowards did not venture on a hand-to-hand fight. On the west of the fort was a series of unfinished barracks. They were connected with the entrenchment by a sort of covered way, made of carts; two or three of these were held by small detachments of fifteen or twenty men, one composed of railway engineers and platelayers. With nothing but musketry and this cover, these gallant fellows kept the enemy at bay, and inflicted on them great losses. On one occasion a host of Sepoys charged up with the seeming intention of getting in. The garrison of seventeen men killed eighteen assailants at pistol-shot range, and drove them away. On another, Captain Moore, the soul of the defence, resolved to try a new trick; he and Lieutenant Delafosse, suddenly leaped out, calling in a loud voice, "Number one to the front!" The skulking scoundrels, thinking a company was about to charge, rose from their cover like a flock of sparrows, and gave the defenders an opportunity of pouring in a deadly volley.