With the Connaught Rangers

by Edward Herbert Maxwell

At Rawul Pindee we chartered a dawk-gharry, and after the inevitable difficulties occasioned by unbroken horses refusing to start, we arrived at Nowshera, where we once more began the busy life of soldiers in the plains during the cold weather. It was the middle of October, and the weather was very pleasant. The thermometer in the verandah at 4 p.m. stood at 78°, in the drawing-room 66°. But during that season there was an immense deal of fever in the Peshawur valley, two-thirds of the regiment suffering from it. It was just the ordinary prostrating Indian fever, not by any means of a deadly nature. The men went to hospital for a few days, and came out well, though weak.

When M’Kay announced one evening that she had got ‘the fever,’ we thought nothing of it; she was so strong and sturdy. It was only the doctor’s imperative orders that made her remain in bed; she was so unwilling to leave her work undone. But instead of shaking off the fever as others did, and getting up at the end of a few days, she sank, and, before we quite realised the calamity that was threatening us, she was gone. Her death was a real grief to us; she had so thoroughly identified her interests with ours that we felt we had lost a friend. The sergeants of the 88th volunteered to carry her to her last resting-place in her grave at Nowshera, far from the home in the Highlands of Scotland she was so fond of.

We had only a year to remain in India before our turn for home service came round, and one day the order was received that the 88th Regiment, Connaught Rangers, was to hold itself in readiness to proceed to Kurrachee. The years we had spent in India had been passed in the north-west provinces and the Punjaub, and we all regretted that our last year of Indian service was to be in the Bombay Presidency, as it entailed the necessity of parting with our carriages, furniture, &c., before we set out on our long journey. However, we had no choice, and Indian fashion-lists were made out of all our possessions and sent to the regiment that was to succeed us at Nowshera. Carriages and horses were advertised in the papers, and it was with the barest necessaries of life, minus even our fine tents, as I had accepted a good offer for them, and had borrowed two from the commissariat for our march to Loodiana, that we rode away before the regiment to our first camping-ground at Akhara. I there received a telegram from head-quarters changing our destination from Kurrachee to Agra—a most welcome order, had it come a little sooner, as the sale of our possessions would not have taken place, and present loss and future expense would have been saved to every one of us; for carriages, horses, and furniture were all required at Agra. However, as it was, we were glad to hear we were to have another year in the north-west provinces, and in such a good quarter as Agra.

In former marches, during the Mutiny time, a number of elephants were attached to our battalion, but now we only had camels. The former were very amusing to watch; their ways are so peculiar. When I went to visit them on the line of march when halted, the mahout in charge would shout out to them ‘salaam!’ and then all their trunks would go up in the air. These great animals were each fastened by a thin chain bound round the hind fetlock, and attached to a tent-peg, driven into the ground. I have been often amused to see how much they disliked flies or mosquitoes. When troubled by these tormentors, they would take up a lot of dust in their trunks, and throw it on their backs, and give a gentle little squeal, which, coming from such a huge frame, was intensely comical. I have seen a mahout fearlessly leave his baby in charge of an elephant. Sweeping a space clear within reach of the animal’s trunk, and placing the black child before him, he departed with the warning, ‘kubbardar’ (take care), which the huge creature, perfectly understanding, anxiously watched if the baby tried to crawl beyond the assigned limit, and gently swept it back with his trunk, if it did.

It was very amusing, when out riding, to meet an elephant. My horse had not the least fear of them, but some nags grow quite wild at their approach. So elephants have been taught to scuttle away on the approach of equestrians, and hide themselves. I have often seen a monster rushing behind a wall, and stand there, with its eyes just over the fence, looking as wise as possible, and full of mischievous fun. We had a goodly number of animals belonging to ourselves: horses, dogs, goats, and poultry. The goats are a necessary of life; for their milk is the only kind procured in most places in India. Their feeding is a simple business. A man goes out with a large flock of them in the early morning, and, after they have picked up a subsistence in the open country, they are returned to their various bungalows before milking time in the evening. I had, one time, a very curious goat—poor Nan—who was killed by a jackal. In the hot weather at Cawnpore, when the evening came, and all the doors and windows were opened that the weary inhabitant of the bungalow might emerge, half dead, to breathe the outer air, and to recline for a short time in one of those long easy-chairs made of cane, my goat would be sure to make her appearance at my elbow, and whisper a gentle, subdued ‘ma-a!’ I knew perfectly what she wanted: a good-sized tumbler of brandy and water; after drinking every drop of which, her spirits became very lively, and she danced about on her hind-legs, and really was a drunken old goat.

These were the days of hunting rebels. The Rangers formed part of a column under command of Colonel G. V. Maxwell. The camel-corps, under Colonel Ross, Rifle Brigade, was attached to the column. We were ordered to a place called Ackberpore, there to await orders. Sir Hugh Rose was triumphantly marching through India, and then was approaching Calpee, a stronghold of the rebels not far from where we were then encamped. With our column was a civilian magistrate, who had all power to punish ill-doers in the most summary way. Ross’s camel-corps was ordered away on what was called a ‘dour,’ or expedition in search of rebels. He marched early in the morning.

I was in my tent that same day, when some of the men of the 88th came up, leading my goat Nan, and marching prisoner a native. They stated that the man had been trying to get Nan to go with him, and that she had resented this very much, which attracted their notice, and then they recognized the colonel’s goat, so they seized the robber, and brought him prisoner. Not one of us understood a word the man said, so I desired the soldiers to take the native and hand him over to the magistrate sahib. When they arrived at the civilian’s tent, the magistrate was just mounting his horse to proceed on some duty, so the order was given to have the thief placed in some safe place till the official’s return. I thought no more of the affair, as it was out of my hands, and old Nan was reposing close to my tent. Next morning, I received an indignant note from Ross, informing me that when the camel-corps was marching off in the morning, he had seen my goat straying away, and that he had desired one of his coolies to take it to the 88th camp and give it to the colonel sahib. The native, as I have described, had been taken prisoner, but the very sad part of the story has to come. The magistrate had not believed the coolie’s story, and had ordered him to be flogged and turned out of camp. Naturally, Colonel Ross was much displeased, and I was equally distressed, but I explained matters, and sent the poor man a good present of rupees, and I received a letter saying that the coolie was quite pleased, and would willingly be flogged every day for the same amount.

The common crow or jackdaw of India is a most sapient bird. I have often watched them holding counsel together, apparently hatching plots, and the conclusion of their consultation always seemed to end in a shout of raven delight. My wife and I were sitting outside our bungalow one evening, and my old dog Nelly had either stolen or been presented with a mutton bone, which she was enjoying. Two jackdaws appeared on the scene, and hopped about in front of Nelly, evidently with a view to getting her bone; but she made sudden rushes at them, and away they flew, laughing. After a bit one of the rascally birds advanced very near, so near that Nelly thought she could catch him, and made a rush, at the same time leaving her bone, when down came the other bird to seize the prey; but Nelly was too quick for them, and got back to her prize. A fresh noisy conference then ensued between the two villainous conspirators, which chattered and laughed, and again flew away. Next time they renewed the attack, one of them danced before Nelly, while the other hopped up in the rear, and actually took hold of the old dog’s tail. This was too great an insult. Nelly flew round indignantly, and pursued the insulting miscreant, when in a trice the other crow popped in and flew away with the mutton bone, old Nelly returning quite abashed, and evidently not appreciating our laughter at all.

The march down country was conducted in the same way as it had been four years ago, when we came up from north-west provinces; the heavy baggage, married people, and impedimenta going on the day before. As I have already said, we had got rid of everything we could before leaving the Punjaub. So it was with deep dismay I received the tidings that greeted us when we rode into camp at Hattee, two marches from Nowshera, that robbers from the hill tribes had come down during the night and emptied several of my boxes, carrying off my best uniform and almost all my valuables. It was inconceivable how the robbery could have been effected, as my bearer lay between the boxes that were broken into. Of his honesty I never had a suspicion. There is always, however, a silver lining to every dark cloud, and ours in this case was, that it would have been a much heavier loss if my wife’s boxes had been carried off, containing, as they did, diamonds and other jewels. I may here mention that some months after the robbery I got back my blue patrol jacket, which had been found by the police in a suspected house in Peshawur; but nothing else was ever recovered, and for the rest of the march, so far as I was concerned, it did not take many carts to carry my baggage. During all the remainder of my stay in India, I was haunted with this robbery, for it seemed to me that I never asked for anything, but I was told it had been carried off by the hill tribes.

The day before we marched into Rawul Pindee we were halted at Janee-ke-Sung, near Brigadier Nicholson’s monument. The brigadier was a preux chevalier sans peur. I have often read the inscription on his tomb at Delhi, where he fell at the siege in 1857; but he lived long enough to know that the enemy had been beaten and their stronghold taken. He was only thirty-five years old when he fell, but he had obtained a most wonderful influence among the natives of the north, by whom he was both feared and loved. There is a sect in existence called after his name, who worship his memory.