The Star of India

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

In the month of January, the King himself was put on trial. He was found guilty of each of the four charges alleged against him, the penalty of which is death as a traitor and felon, but, because of the assurance given at the time of his surrender to Captain Hodson, he was sentenced to a life transportation to the Andaman Islands. This was changed to British Kaffraria, and this in turn to a station in British Burmah, known as Tonghoo, some three hundred miles inland from Rangoon, where he arrived on the 9th of December, 1858. And there, in 1861, miserably ended the career of the last sovereign of the race of Timur.

Nana Sahib was the leading fiend in the Sepoy Mutiny. His ultimate fate will never be known. The British government offered a reward of a lac of rupees (fifty thousand dollars) for his capture, and several persons were arrested because of their resemblance to him. It was reported that he had crossed the Himalayas, and found refuge among the tribes to the north. It was claimed that he was afterwards seen in different parts of Hindostan, while others were convinced that he was killed during the closing scenes of the insurrection. Strange as it may seem, there are people today in India who believe that Nana is still alive, so changed by years and so disguised that none but his most intimate friends would suspect his identity. It is incredible, however, that such can be the case.

The author of the "Land of the Veda" uses the following impressive language:

"When again defeated, for the fifth time, he fled to the congenial society of Khan Bahador at Bareilly, where he made his last stand; and he then, having filled to overflowing the measure of his guilt, passed away like a thief in the night, and left his wealth to the spoiler. He and his followers entered the jungles of Ouda, and penetrated deep into desolate wilds, where the malarious fever soon thinned out his company and reduced the remnant to the final distress. For the last that is known of this man's doom we have to depend upon the reports of two native spies who followed him, and two of his servants who subsequently found their way out of those Himalayan solitudes. Wasted and worn at last by fever and starvation, they are reported to have held a council and concluded to put their swords each through his own women, and then to separate and die alone. Certainly a remnant of any of them has never since been seen. The Nana Sahib wore that great ruby which was so celebrated for its size and brilliancy. His priests had told him that it was an amulet which secured to him a charmed life. He trusted in it, no doubt, to the very last. It was probably in his turban when he wandered up the deep ravine to die alone; and if so, there it lies today, for no human hand will penetrate those pestilential jungles to gather it/ The eagles of the Himalayas alone, as they look down from their lofty heights for their prey, are the only creatures that will ever see the burning rays of that ruby, as it shines amid the rags of the vagrant who perished there long years ago."

————————

Early in the year 1858, Reverend Francis Hildreth, the missionary, and his family, reestablished themselves in the royal city of Delhi. Their house was destroyed during the commune of the preceding twelve months, but the good man had enough means left to procure another, and he resumed his work in his Master's vineyard.

Luchman did good service as a guide for the British forces, and proved, as did every native convert, faithful under all temptations. It is one of the most striking facts connected with the Sepoy Mutiny that not a single instance is known where a native professing Christianity swerved from his faith.

Surgeon Baird Avery was professionally employed during the closing scenes of the rebellion. He and Luchman were generally within communicating distance of each other, and one evening they met at the house of the missionary, where no two persons could have been made more welcome.

Dr. Avery had done his full duty to his friend, George Harkins, and the little company were indulging in reminiscences of those memorable days and nights following the flight from Delhi, when Luchman, who was in unusually high spirits, asked Mr. Hildreth whether he would be kind enough to write a letter for him. The gentleman said he would do so with pleasure, and ink, pen and paper were brought forth.

"We will withdraw," said Marian, supposing there leas something private about the matter.