CHAPTER XXIV. “SHIVA THE DESTROYER.”
Close to the Suttee Choura Ghaut, the place at which the garrison were to embark, there rose a Hindoo temple; it was known as the Hurdes, or the Fisherman’s Temple. It stood upon the banks of the Ganges, and its shadows darkened the water. Many a religious festival had been held within its walls, and many a pious Hindoo fisherman had come from afar, that he might fall down before the god it enshrined, and invoke a blessing upon himself and his calling. But on the morning that the English people went forth from their defences, it was devoted to a far different purpose.
Enthroned on a “chaboutree,” or platform, of the temple, sat Tantia Topee. He had been commissioned by Nana Sahib to carry out the hellish work. Near him were Azimoolah, and Teeka Singh, and they were surrounded with numerous dependants. From their position, they were enabled to command an uninterrupted view of the river, through the open doors and windows. At the proper time the fatal signal was to be given in that temple by Tantia Topee. The signal was to be the blast of a bugle.
But all unmindful of the awful danger, the garrison went on—women, and children, and men, who had survived the horrors of those awful weeks—gaunt, and ghastly, their garments hanging in shreds, and scarcely covering their emaciated bodies, enfeebled by want, their bones almost protruding through their skins, some wounded, and bearing upon them the indelible marks of the battle.
In the hearts of most was a glimmering of a peaceful future.
Here a little child carried in its arms a broken and smoke-blackened doll; there a woman huddled to her breast some household treasure that had been saved from the great wreck; but they were a pitiable crowd. The beautiful had left their beauty; the young had left their youth in the battered barracks; and even the faces of the children were pinched and wizened, showing how fearful had been the suffering during those dark weeks.
The wounded were carried mostly in palkees (palanquins); the women and children were in rough native carts, a few rode on elephants; and the able-bodied men marched. But the attempt at martial array was but a mockery—they were soldiers only in spirit. Outwardly they were starving tatterdemalions.
The grim old warrior, General Wheeler, was accompanied by his wife and daughters. He was worn and broken spirited—for the capitulation had crushed his heart. In spite of the starvation which stared him in the face, in spite of the hordes of rebels arrayed against them, and in spite of the sickness and misery which were upon them, the poor old man was reluctant to surrender, for he still hoped for succour from outside. But his officers had forced it upon him, for the sake of the unhappy women and children.