Once or twice he marched the corps in close column into the river Jumna; when they reached the banks—there shelving—they commenced marking time, which consists in moving the feet without advancing; but the old colonel, to their astonishment, roared “Forward!” and on we all went, till near waist-deep, when the column fell into a state of disorder; the adjutant, on one occasion, tumbled off his horse in the mêlée, and got a thorough soaking. The commander thought, I suppose, that, as good soldiers, we ought to be able to stand “water” as well as “fire.”
After I had been about a month at the station, I was put in orders as the subaltern for duty on the Delhi gate of the palace, a vast structure, occupied by the king and his relations and dependants, which duty continued for a week. Having marched my company down to the gate, I found the sub I was to relieve, with his guard drawn up, all as stiff as ramrods, to receive me. After exchanging salutes, and receiving his instructions to take proper care of the “Asylum of the Universe,”[[59]] &c., he gave the word “quick march” to his men, sent them off under the subadar, or native captain, and then proceeded to introduce me to the quarters in which I was to pass my period of guard.
In passing the first archway, I found myself in an enclosure, formed by lofty walls, round the bottom of which ran a line of arcades or cloisters; at the other end of this enclosure was another noble arch, surmounted by a vast and lofty pile of buildings, with windows and galleries; these were the quarters of Major M., who filled the post of killadar, or commander of the fort and palace guards, a kind-hearted, hospitable, and brawny Caledonian, who, amongst other harmless eccentricities, entertained the most profound veneration for the “Rowyal Hoose o’ Teemoor,” as he was wont to call it.
My own quarters, to which the sub introduced me, consisted of a small turret, in an angle of the ramparts, covered with thatch, and having something the appearance of a bee-hive; it contained a table and a few chairs, considerably the worse for wear, and when my cot was placed in it, there was little room left for myself. Here, then, for seven long days, I read, shot paroquets with my pellet-bow on the ramparts, cursed the heat and the flies, and conjugated the verb s’ennuyer to perfection, through all its moods and tenses.
One interesting break occurred, and that was his Majesty Ackbar Shah’s going out one day, in grand procession, to visit the tombs of his ancestors at the Kootub Minar.
On this occasion my guard was drawn up within the enclosure, to salute him as he passed, whilst another company of troops, and two six-pounders, were stationed without the second archway, on the plain between it and the city, for a similar purpose.
Little did I think, in my juvenile days, when I looked on the stern visage of the Great Mogul on the card covers, that I should ever have the honour of paying my respects to that fierce Saracen in propriâ personâ; but so it was. I had heard much of Eastern magnificence, but had never seen before, nor have I indeed since, anything that so completely realized my vague ideas of barbaric pomp, as this procession of the King of Delhi.
Though there was much in it that was imperfect, and which told of reduced means and insufficient resources, it was still a most striking pageant, and, as it issued tumultuously from those noble and resounding gateways, amidst the clang of wild instruments and echoing voices, I confess I was delighted and astonished, and was able to picture most forcibly what these things must have been when the Moguls were in the zenith of their power.
We had waited for some time, expecting his majesty to make his appearance; when at length confused sounds and a distant hubbub announced that he was on the move; presently, ever and anon, a cavalier, some omrah of the old noblesse, or inferior horseman, would come pricking forth from under the arch; then another and another; then steeds curveting and caracoling, and covered with rich housings and silver ornaments. After this came his majesty’s regiment of Nujjeebs, hurrying forth, a wild-looking body of bearded Mahomedan soldiery, armed with matchlocks and shields, and attired in dark chupkuns, or vests, and red turbans; next came his camel corps, each man with a little pattereroe, or swivel gun, on the bow of his camel’s saddle, ramming down and blazing away at a furious rate.
By the way, I was told that, on one of these occasions, a fellow, in his hurry, shot off his camel’s head.