SIEGE AND CAPTURE OF MOOLTAN.
General Whish pressed his operations against Mooltan with skill and energy. He was ably aided by Edwardes, Courtlandt, Brigadier-general Markham, and other officers. During the first ten days of September skirmishes were frequent, and some of these were sharp and spirited. On the 12th Whish determined to attack certain posts, the capture of which was essential to the execution of his plans. The enenry had established an extensive and formidable outpost in a village and garden near the walls. To capture this a body of the besiegers, numbering two thousand five hundred, were told off. They began the attack at break of day, under the command of Brigadier-general Harvey. The contest was very severe, but ended in the accomplishment of General Whish’s design. The slaughter of the Mooltanese was signal, and the heroism of the European regiments extraordinary. The loss on the part of the British was heavy. Major Montazambert, of the 10th foot, Colonel Pattoun, of the 32nd, Quartermaster Taylor, also of that regiment, were the officers of the royal regiments which fell. Lieutenant Cubit and Ensign Lloyd, of the Company’s service, also fell. The latter officer was treacherously cut down while parleying with the enemy. The 10th regiment fought desperately, making havoc of the Mooltanese with the bayonet.
The next day the besieged made a sortie against the camp of Lieutenant Edwardes, but were beaten back, the pursuit issuing in the capture of another important outpost. The defence had arrived at its crisis, but Sikh treachery averted from the city the impending blow. On the morn-, ing of the 14th, Shere Singh, with the whole of the Lahore troops, five thousand in number, went over to the enemy. This event, at once lessening the army of the besiegers, and increasing that of the besieged, made their relative numbers so disproportionate, that the siege was raised, the army withdrawing to a position a few miles distant, where they intrenched. Soon after the British took up this position, Shere Singh left Mooltan and marched along the banks of the Chenab, forming a junction with Chuttur Singh, which placed the former at the head of thirty thousand men. It became necessary for another British army to encounter this enemy, while Whish and his troops could do nothing against Mooltan until strongly reinforced. On the 21st of December, a strong division of the Bombay army arrived at General Whish’s camp, and thus strengthened, the general resolved upon active operations. His army now numbered about seventeen thousand Sikhs, Beloochees, Affghans, and other contingents, about fifteen thousand more Queen’s and Company’s troops, and one hundred and fifty pieces of cannon. On the 27th General Whish resolved upon a grand attack, and moved his army forward in four columns. The enemy falling back from their outposts, the British took a position in the suburbs within five hundred yards of the walls. That day and night batteries were constructed on all appropriate points, and early on the 28th a terrible bombardment began. By the 29th, the works were carried forward to within eighty yards of the place, breaches began to be effected, the granary was fired, and the batteries and buildings of the enemy suffered much under the heavy cannonade of the besiegers. On the 30th a shell blew up the principal magazine of the city. The shock was felt for two miles, and the camp of the besiegers literally rocked above the convulsive throes of the earth. The magazine contained sixteen thousand pounds of powder. The explosion was instant; with one fierce crash and a long-continued roar, the smoke and flame gushed upwards—one of the most grandly terrible sights upon which human eye could look. Eight hundred men perished, their charred limbs and whole carcasses were cast far beyond. The houses of the chief persons, the public buildings and temples, were shaken down by the vibrations; yet the walls of the fort endured, and the bulk of the city was intact. A fire was communicated, which raged through several streets, but was extinguished. It was supposed that this event would lead to the surrender of the place, but next day Moolraj sent word to General Whish that he had still powder enough for a twelvemonth’s siege, and that he would hold out while one stone remained upon another. This was supposed to be mere bravado, and a summon was sent to surrender. Moolraj, with perfect sang froid, rammed the letter down one of the longest guns, and fired it at the British. During the following night a distinct breach was effected in the Delhi gate of the city, and the next day another at the Bohan gate. The fire of the besiegers was plied hotly for the two following days and nights, the city blazing like a hell, amidst the crash of falling buildings, and the outcry of wounded women and children. On the 81st the Sikhs made a sortie from the south-west gate against the camp of Edwardes. That officer, ever vigilant, and ably seconded by the engineer officer, Lieutenant Lake, repulsed the sortie, inflicting heavy loss. The cannonade continued for fifty-six hours longer, and on the 2nd of January the assault was made. The Bengal and Bombay divisions were formed into separate columns, and precipitated upon the two breaches. These columns moved forward with great daring and under a heavy fire. The Bengal column found the breach impracticable, with an open drop in front, and strong defences in the rear. While the Bengal Sepoys were obstructed by obstacles which they could not surmount, the Bombay column gained an entrance. The sergeant-major of the Bombay Fusileers boldly planted the British flag above the breach. The Bengal column turned and followed their more fortunate comrades of the other presidency. The enemy resisted at every step, receding only before superior force, and it was not until the sun went down over the blackened ruins and blood-stained streets of Mooltan that the city was completely in the hands of the conquerors. The troops of Moolraj retreated to the citadel, which was a place of surpassing strength, and could only be taken by regular approaches. Parallels were opened, and a fierce cannonade was directed against it on the 4th; but it was not until the 18th that any decided impression was made. By that date the intrenchments were carried up to the very walls, but such was their extraordinary strength that they were proof against artillery—at all events, any artillery of the calibre possessed by the besiegers. Whish resolved to effect their destruction by mines. On the 18th three mines were exploded, and the counterscarp was blown into the ditch. A shaft was then sunk under the trench, and a gallery cut towards the wall. At the same time a battery was placed on a level higher than the citadel itself; another carrying eighteen and twenty-four pounders was placed close up to the wall. From this battery the most extraordinary cannonade and bombardment was conducted. Eight-inch howitzers discharged live shells into the wall, which buried themselves in the mud and brickwork of which it was built, and, exploding, tore away large portions. On the 19th the sap reached the crest of the glacis, and on the 21st the engineer officer in charge announced that there were two practicable breaches. General Whish gave prompt orders for the storm on the following morning. Moolraj had been seriously alarmed during the progress of the works for the few days previous, and repeatedly offered to surrender if his life would be spared. The answer returned informed him that no terms but an unconditional surrender would be conceded. On the 22nd, the British columns were forming for the assault, when the garrison hauled down its flag, and Moolraj surrendered at discretion.
The scenes which followed were at once picturesque and painful. The discomfited troops marched forth as prisoners of war. First came a few hundreds of the most miserable, dispirited looking men, ill clothed, and wan with fatigue. These were fanatics who had under a vow devoted themselves to especial peril and labour in the defence, and as is so frequently the case with men under the influence of fanaticism, defeat brings reaction in the form of despair. A column of about three thousand five hundred soldiery, stern looking men, next came. With such troops it was no wonder that Moolraj made so glorious a defence. This splendid body of men laid down their arms with reluctance, and looked back upon the breaches as if they fain would return and die there, with their arms in their hands. The body-guard of Moolraj followed, a splendid body of soldiers, whose equipment in arms and uniform was superb. The chiefs, friends, and family of the governor next came. They were deeply dejected, and uttered words of expressive anguish and shame. Moolraj himself was the last man of the Khalsa host who left the citadel. He was gorgeously appareled in silks, and decorations expressive of Khalsa religious or military associations. He wore jewels, carried arms superbly ornamented and of superior make, and rode a beautiful Arab charger, covered with a scarlet saddle-cloth, with gilt or golden trappings. His personal appearance was impressive, his countenance manly and well formed, with quick, fiery, expressive eyes. Above the middle height, his form was strong, muscular, and yet elegant. His bearing was manly and gallant; there was no assumed or insolent defiance, no fanatical contempt expressed by it, nor did he allow dejection to betray itself. He and his followers became prisoners of war, and were placed at the disposal of the governor-general. It was alleged that the British army was guilty of plunder, and that officers of engineers were discovered appropriating to themselves prizes, which belonged either to the custody of the prize agents, or were sacred as private property. It would appear that these allegations were circulated by certain agents of persons in England having interests adverse to the Honourable East India Company, and were utterly unfounded. Lord Ellenborough, more than eight years afterwards, confuted the calumny.
Mooltan, and the territory of which it was the capital, was now completely subjugated, and our ally, the khan, returned to his own province a wiser if not a better man, his further services being confined to the maintenance of peace in his own territory, and to the exercise of a certain degree of vigilance in reference to surrounding provinces. The fall of Mooltan was received over all British India and the neighbouring independent states as one of the grandest events in Indian history, and filled the petty chieftains with awe, while it excited exultation in the presidencies. Far different were the feelings created in the minds of the Sikh soldiery and people; they were exasperated, and determined to hazard all upon a single throw. To avenge past disasters, and expel the British from the country of the five rivers became the passionate purpose and ambition of chieftain and soldier, and everywhere desultory bands made war, as they pressed onward to join the great chiefs, Shere Singh and Chuttur Singh who were now at the head of a powerful army.
CAMPAIGN IN THE PUNJAUB UNDER LORD GOUGH.
It has been already related that Shere Singh quitted Mooltan with a strong division of Khalsa troops, on the 9th of October, and formed a junction with Chuttur Singh.
The latter returned to the territory of Hazareh, leaving the bulk of his forces under the command of Shere Singh, who was gradually joined by other chiefs and sirdars, whose followers augmented his army,—that army consisted of men inured to combat, the flower of the Sikh nation. Lord Gough, the commander-in-chief of the army in India, was ordered to assemble an army at Ferozepore, and act against Shere Singh, and, in fact, reconquer the Punjaub. Bombay and other troops were ordered to join the army collecting at Ferozopore, and the victorious troops of Whish, Courtlandt, and Edwardes were ordered to follow and form a junction with the grand army. These troops did not join as soon as Lord Gough expected, and the Bombay division, under the Hon. Major-general Dundas, was so dilatory as to evoke from the good-natured general-in-chief a most stinging rebuke. The major-general was urged by despatches to advance with all possible celerity, but he expressed himself as not perceiving the necessity of such speed. “Tell him,” said the gallant commander, “to stay with the native troops if he likes, but to send on the Europeans!”
Before, however, the army which had acted before Mooltan could render any assistance to Lord Gough, months before that city had fallen, events gathered within the Punjaub in gloomy and rapid association. It was on the 21st of November before General Gough assumed the active command of the army at Seharun, a central position. The river Chenab is the central one of the five rivers which give name to the district, and the theatre of conflict was midway between the Chenab and its confluence with the Indus. On the left bank of the former, about a mile and a half from the river, the town of Rumnugger was situated: there Shere Singh had taken up his quarters. Opposite that town the river bends, and there was an island in mid-channel; this island was about two acres in area. The main force of Shere Singh was posted on the right bank of the river, but a strong brigade of four thousand men occupied the island, and erected batteries. These batteries commanded the only available ford, or “nullah,” as it is called in the vocabulary of the country. The opposite town of Rumnugger was favourably situated for defence; it was flanked by a grove, and by the bend in the river. This position Shere Singh had skilfully fortified. On the 22nd, at two o’clock in the morning, Lord Gough approached the enemy. While the right bank and the island were occupied by the chief forces of the sirdar, he had a strong body also posted on the left bank, and it became the first object of Lord Gough to dislodge them. Between the island and the right bank the passage was effected by boats, so that the enemy was able to preserve his communications with tolerable certainty and ease. The nullah or ford was not difficult, although the descent to it from the left bank of the river was steep. It was directly commanded by the guns on the island, and was exposed to a raking cross-fire on either side from batteries placed on the right bank. The 8th light cavalry (Company’s service) advanced along the left bank, skirmishing, supported by her majesty’s 3rd Light Dragoons. The horse artillery pushed into the deep sand on the margin of the river, and commanded the batteries at Rumnugger, but were obliged to retire before their superior metal, leaving behind one gun and two ammunition waggons embedded in the sand. The enemy took skilful and immediate advantage of this reverse, and pushed over a powerful cavalry division. Orders were given to charge them, and the 14th (Queen’s) Light Dragoons, and the 3rd light horse of the Company’s army, in spite of overwhelming numbers and of imperfect supports, cut through the enemy and dashed after them into the nullah. The passage was familiar to the latter, who made good their retreat to the island; the latter were of course ignorant of the ground, and were impeded in their pursuit by that circumstance, had none other obstructed them. As soon as the Sikh cavalry cleared the ford, the batteries of the island and the flanking batteries on the right bank opened with deadly effect. How any British officer could have been so imprudent as to give the order to charge into the nullah is almost inconceivable; that the error was not evident, while the brave men were being mowed down by an artillery fire, which they could do nothing to silence, is still more marvellous; such, however, was the case. Colonel Havelock dashed into the ford at the head of the 14th Light Dragoons, but was never seen again. A native trooper supposed he saw him in the nullah soon after he entered it, unhorsed, and several Sikh soldiers “hacking his person.” After much useless slaughter was thus incurred by Havelock’s gallant brigade, Major-general Cureton rode up with an order from Lord Gough for the troops to retire. He had scarcely given the order when he fell dead from two shots, by which he was instantaneously struck. The troops retired with a loss, in every corps engaged, of officers and men. Lord Gough considered the end attained in driving the enemy from the left bank was worth the sacrifice. The death of General Cureton was severely felt by the army, and was in some degree irreparable. He had risen from the ranks by his superior soldiership, and was deemed one of the best, perhaps the best, officer for outpost duty then in India.