On the Irrawaddy: A Story of the First Burmese War

by G. A. Henty

For the next two months the time passed slowly. No attacks were made by the enemy, after the defeat of the assault upon the pagoda. Peasants and deserters who came in reported that there was profound depression among the Burmese troops. Great numbers had left the colours, and there was no talk of another attack.

The troops being, therefore, relieved of much of their arduous night duty, the English took the offensive. The stockades on the Dalla river, and those upon the Panlang branch--the principal passage into the main stream of the Irrawaddy--were attacked and carried, the enemy suffering heavily, and many pieces of artillery being captured.

The rains continued almost unceasingly, and the troops suffered terribly in health. Scarce three thousand remained fit for duty, and the greater portion of these were so emaciated and exhausted, by the effects of the climate, that they were altogether unfit for active operations.

Three weeks after the fight at the pagoda a vessel came up the river, with a letter from the officer in command of the troops assembled to bar the advance of Bandoola against Chittagong, saying that the Burmese army had mysteriously disappeared. It had gone off at night, so quietly and silently that our outposts, which were but a short distance from it, heard no sign or movement, whatever. The Burmese had taken with them their sick, tents, and stores; and nothing but a large quantity of grain had been found in their deserted stockades.

The news was received with satisfaction by the troops. There was little doubt that the court of Ava--finding that their generals had all failed in making the slightest impression upon our lines, and had lost vast numbers of men--had at last turned to the leader who had conquered province after province for it, and had sent him orders to march, with his whole army, to bring the struggle to a close. The soldiers rejoiced at the thought that they were at last to meet a real Burmese army. Hitherto they had generally stood on the defensive, and had to fight the climate rather than the foe; and it seemed to them that the campaign was likely to be interminable.

The march of the Burmese from Ramoo to Sembeughewn, the nearest point of the river to the former town, must have been a terrible one. The distance was over two hundred miles, the rains were ceaseless, and the country covered with jungles and marshes, and intersected by rivers. No other army could have accomplished such a feat. The Burmans, however, accustomed to the unhealthy climate, lightly clad, and carrying no weight save their arms and sixteen days' supply of rice, passed rapidly over it.

Every man was accustomed to the use of an axe and to the formation of rafts and, in an incredibly short time, rivers were crossed, deep swamps traversed on roads made by closely-packed faggots and, but a few days after hearing that Bandoola had started, the general learned, from peasants, that the news had come down that he and a portion of his army had arrived at Sembeughewn.

Almost at the same time, other parties who travelled down along the coast reached Donabew, a town on the Irrawaddy, some forty miles in direct line from Rangoon. This had been named as the rendezvous of the new army, and to this a considerable proportion of Bandoola's force made their way direct from Ramoo; it being the custom of the Burmese to move, when on a march through a country where no opposition was to be looked for, in separate detachments, each under its own leader, choosing its own way, and making for a general rendezvous. Travelling in this manner, they performed the journey far more rapidly than they could have done moving in one body, and could better find shelter and food.

Other forces from Prome, Tannoo, and other quarters were known to be marching towards Donabew. It was soon reported that the dejected forces around Rangoon had gained courage and confidence, at the news that Bandoola and his army were coming to their aid, and that the deserters were returning in large numbers from their villages. The British sick were sent away in the shipping to Mergy and Tavoy, two coast towns of which we had taken possession, and both of which were healthily situated.

The change had a marvellous effect, and men who would have speedily succumbed to the poisonous exhalations of the swamps round Rangoon rapidly regained their strength, in their new quarters.