It now occurred to us that a most material omission had been made in neglecting to provide any artillery; but, after much deliberation, this difficulty was removed by Major L—— kindly volunteering to officiate also in that capacity. This offer was accepted by universal acclamation, as that gallant officer wore in his belt a pistol in proportion to his own stature, and was moreover known to have made as much noise since he came into the world as qualified him to compete, in that respect, with the artillery of the whole British army.
Leaving Dholpore in the evening, and walking most part of the way, for the road was very wild and rugged, we arrived, late at night, on the banks of the river Chumbul. After a detention of many hours, in consequence of no notice having been sent to the ferry, we were, early in the morning, transported across under the auspices of a boatman, who we agreed must have been Charon's representative on earth, for a more grim and ungainly looking savage I never beheld. He either could not or would not use his tongue, answering our inquiries about the road with impatient gestures. Giving him the benefit of the doubt about the use of his tongue, he escaped chastisement.
We reached the city of Gwalior about mid-day, and were kindly entertained at the house of the British resident, Colonel Spiers.
A few days before our arrival, the King of Gwalior had died, and, as usual, in states not completely under British control in India, this event caused a great commotion, which did not subside before they had been embroiled with the British government[5] and taught to be quiet.
In the course of the day a Vakeel arrived from the Gwalior-court at Colonel Spiers' residence, and, hearing that we were about to proceed across the Gwalior territories, he volunteered to send with us an escort of Native Cavalry, who, he informed us, would be of use in procuring supplies from the villages, as also in acting as guides. We gladly accepted his offer, and, in the afternoon, quitted the residency with our savage-looking escort of Mahratta cavalry, dressed in flowing robes of cotton or silk of various colours, confined at the waist, with a coarse shawl or cotton kummurbund,[6] bound closely round the body, and furnished with an armoury of crooked knives and long pistols. Their legs were ensconced in long deerskin boots, and their heads in steel semicircular helmets, with a loose piece of chain armour attached and hanging over the shoulders. In the heat of the day a part of the silk or cotton round the waist was detached, and bound over the helmet to protect the wearer from the rays of the sun, which, striking on the polished steel, would have rendered it nearly intolerable. Behind their backs were slung matchlocks of great length of barrel; and in their hands, or thrown loosely on the hollow of the shoulder, were lances, calculated to reach an enemy at about ordinary pistol-shot range. We now really began to feel that we were an army, and, on entering on the duties of office, I received orders from the commander-in-chief, of the most peremptory nature, to take care that he was always provided with milk for breakfast. This duty I assigned to the most brawny looking warrior in our escort, and he received the order with as much gravity as if I had desired him to charge a host of Pindarrees.
Passing the fortress of Gwalior, constructed on a rocky eminence, we wound about the city, which is prettily situated beneath a semicircle of low hills, and appeared to have been built with more attention to substantial comfort and cleanliness than is generally bestowed on eastern cities. In the north-western quarter, where the cantonments are situated, the ground was laid out in large squares for parades, and shaded by rows of fruit trees fronting each side.
Having walked nearly five hours, enjoying the beautiful and temperate night, in company with my friend L——, we ascended our palanquins, and woke not till the sun was high next morning, when we put up, during the heat of the day, under the friendly shade of a banyan tree, and beside a small village, where, alas! no milk was procurable for the commander-in-chief's breakfast. My Mahratta friend brought two of the chiefs of the village at the point of his spear, who, after numerous salaams, protested most earnestly that there were no goats in their village to afford milk; and, after earnest protestations of their poverty, they were silent, and looked like condemned criminals. I told them it was a most grave offence they had committed, in not having or procuring any milk; but, being disposed to leniency, I would overlook the offence if they brought immediately some fresh eggs. This was at once complied with, and the village delinquents, having received payment for the same, retired overjoyed at this unexpected munificence. The commander-in-chief's resentment was in some measure appeased by using a fresh egg as a substitute for milk; and a young peacock and a brace of partridges, which I shot in time to be placed in Dereah's hands for breakfast, earned a full pardon.
We continued to traverse a bare rocky country for many leagues, travelling all night, and putting up, during the heat of the day, under some friendly tree or shed, where, with the produce of my gun, and the assistance of collections made by our escort in the villages, (when any were met with, but here they were few and far between) we reached the cantonment of Sipree on the 15th of February. The Sipree contingent were absent on active service, in the jungles of Bundelkund; but we put up at the house of one of the officers, which was situated on a hill commanding an extensive view over the bare country, and where the breeze whistled most musically along the verandahs.
The character of the country we now traversed was the opposite to that of Bengal: high and rocky hills skirted us on each side, and occasionally crossed our route: now, we plunged into a dense and apparently endless jungle, from which we suddenly emerged on a tract intersected by ravines, which nearly broke our palanquin bearers' hearts.
The most unaccountable animals of our party were the cook, Dereah, and his little Agra pony, which was rarely known to feed during our toilsome journey. The cook, his master, was certainly never found napping except during one hour previous to our evening meal, whilst the pea-fowl soup was simmering on the embers, and both readily and cheerfully resumed their route, as if that was the only really important object of their lives.