“So the sahibs were seated on the ground. Two companies stood with their muskets, ready to fire. Then said one of the mem sahibs, the doctor’s wife: ‘I will not leave my husband. If he must die, I will die with him.’ So she ran and sat down behind her husband, clasping him round the waist.
“When she said this the other mem sahibs said: ‘We also will die with our husbands;’ and they all sat down, each by her husband.
“Then their husbands said: ‘Go back;’ but they would not do so.
“So then the Nana gave order, and his soldiers went in and pulled them away by force. But they could not pull away the doctor’s wife, who stayed there. Then the padre asked leave to read prayers before they died. He did so, and then shut the book. Then all the sahibs shook hands and bid good-bye. Then the sepoys fired. One sahib rolled one way, one another, but they were not quite dead; so the sepoys went at them and finished them off with their swords.”
Can you imagine the breathless horror with which the garrison of Lucknow listened to these details of a most cruel and treacherous onslaught upon wounded men, upon refined ladies, and innocent children? How they sighed for a force strong enough to take an adequate revenge upon these miscreants! But for the present they were besieged themselves, though reinforced; and who of them could count upon a day’s security? Perhaps, if the bullet spared them at Lucknow their would-be rescuers might be unable to fight their way through the city, and these poor ladies and children of the Lucknow garrison might be reserved for a lot even worse than death. “Will they come?—will they come to help us here at Lucknow? That is our anxious thought night and day.”
[CHAPTER XII]
THE RELIEF OF LUCKNOW (1857)
The scene at Cawnpore—Fights before Lucknow—Nearly blown up—A hideous nightmare—Cheering a runaway—All safe out of the Residency—A quick march back—Who stole the biscuits?—Sir Colin’s own regiment.
“I had enlisted in the 93rd Sutherland Highlanders to go to India to put down the Mutiny,” writes Mr. Forbes-Mitchell, an old friend of the author. “We reached Cawnpore on the 27th of October, having marched the last forty-six miles in two days. We were over 1,000 strong, and many of us had just been through the Crimean War. After a few hours’ rest we were allowed to go out in parties of ten or twelve to visit the scene of the late treachery and massacre.”