Young Elkington also received his death-wound at the night-attack on the village. He was quite a stripling, being only eighteen years old, and had joined the regiment but a few months before. His was one of those strange cases of a presentiment of death, many of which have been well authenticated in our army. On looking over his effects, it was found that he had written letters to his nearest relations on the night before marching to Najafgarh; and he had also carefully made up small parcels of his valuables and trinkets, with directions on them to whom they were to be delivered in case of his being killed next day. It was noticed, too, that he was unusually quiet and reserved, never speaking a word to anyone on the march, though when the action began he behaved like a gallant soldier, giving up his young life in the service of his country.
August 26.—On the morning of August 26 we marched back to camp, arriving there before sundown, and were played in by the bands of the two regiments, while many soldiers, native as well as European, lined the road and gave us a hearty cheer.
Our casualties at the action of Najafgarh amounted to twenty-five officers and men killed and seventy wounded. The enemy left great numbers of dead in the entrenchments and on the plain, their loss being computed at 500 killed and wounded; but this, I fancy, is much below the mark, for our artillery fire was very destructive, and the cavalry committed great havoc amongst the host of fugitives. The battle of the 25th was the most brilliant and decisive since that of Badli-ki-Serai on June 8. All the guns, thirteen in number, were captured, and the enemy's camp, ammunition, stores, camels and bullocks were taken. Would that we had met the insurgents oftener in the open in this manner! But the rascals were too wary, and had too great a dread of our troops to face them in a pitched encounter.
During the absence of Nicholson's small force the enemy had attacked all the pickets, and kept up a heavy cannonade from the walls, causing us a loss of thirty-five men. It was their impression that the camp had been left almost bare and defenceless by the withdrawal of so large a force; but they were quickly undeceived, and were met at each point of assault by a galling fire from our men.
For many nights after August 26 our right pickets were constantly harassed by the rebels, who also shelled Hindoo Rao's house from the city and Kishenganj batteries. Our sappers, too, found it not only difficult, but dangerous, to work in the advanced trenches below the ridge, being always met by a murderous musketry from the enemy's sharpshooters, who fired down behind breastworks. It was resolved, therefore, on August 30, to drive them out from their cover, and on two or more occasions this was performed by the Goorkhas and the 60th Rifles, who, as usual, fighting together and supporting each other, took the breastworks in gallant style. Our Engineers were then enabled to continue their operations in the trenches preparatory to making approaches towards the city walls, and constructing the batteries for the siege-train, now daily expected.
The Flagstaff Tower, as I have already mentioned in a former part of my narrative, was the chief rendezvous of officers when not on duty. About this time I went to the top of the tower in company with one of my regiment, when an amusing incident occurred.
We were watching the batteries playing on each side, when a tall Afghan, armed to the teeth, appeared at the top of the steps, and was about to set foot on the enclosed space under the flagstaff. A sentry was always stationed there, and on this occasion it happened to be a sturdy little Goorkha, one of the Kumaon battalion. On the approach of the Afghan he immediately came to the charge, and warned him that none but European officers were allowed on the top of the tower. The Afghan laughed, and then, looking with contempt at the diminutive sentry, a dwarf in comparison with himself, he attempted to push aside the bayonet. Losing all patience, the Goorkha at this threw down his musket, and drawing his kukri, the favourite weapon of his race, he rushed at the Afghan with up-lifted blade. This was too much for our valiant hero, who quickly turned tail, and disappeared down the circular staircase, the Goorkha following him at a short distance. On his return he picked up the musket, and seeing us laughing, the frown on his face turned into the most ludicrous expression of good-humour I had ever seen, and he burst out into a fit of laughter which lasted some minutes. He told us that he and the other Goorkhas of his regiment thought nothing of the bravery of the Afghan soldiers, some 100 of whom were on our side at Delhi; and he spoke truly.
These men, all cavalry, superbly mounted, dressed in chain armour, and carrying arms of every description, had been sent down ostensibly as a reinforcement to us by their Ameer, Dost Mohammed Khan of Kabul, but really as spies to watch our movements, and report the state of affairs to their chief. They made a great display about the camp, but I never heard of their meeting the enemy in action during their stay before Delhi.
The last two days of August we had several men killed and wounded in the force, and one of our officers, who shared my tent after poor Gabbett's death, received a severe contusion from the bursting of a shell.
Nearly three months had now elapsed since the Siege of Delhi began. We were, to all appearance, no nearer to the desired end, and had scarcely gained one foot of ground nearer to the walls of the city. Moreover, there was alarm in the Punjab owing to a reported disaffection among the Sikh population, who, it is said, were beginning openly to assert that the British army was unable to take Delhi. To check this feeling, the Chief Commissioner had urged General Wilson to lose no time in making preparations for the assault of the city; and thus our expectations beat high at the near approach of the powerful siege-train on its way down from Ferozepore, though we knew there were still before us trials and dangers to which our former experiences would be as nothing.