Life and Work in Benares and Kumaon, 1839-1877

by James Kennedy

THE RISING AT BENARES.

We had just finished dinner when our night watchman rushed into the room with the startling words, Pultun bigar guya, and lin men ag luga!—"The regiment has mutinied, and the cantonments are on fire." Scarcely had he uttered the words, when we heard the sharp rattle of the musketry and the crash of the guns. Our little conveyance was made quickly ready, and, with all others in that part of the suburbs, we drove as quickly as we could to the only place of temporary safety available for us, on the banks of the Ganges at the northern end of the city. The English were in different parts of the suburbs, and betook themselves to the places nearest to them which promised immediate shelter. Sir John Kaye, the historian of the Sepoy War, says that the missionaries left the city for Chunar, with the exception of one he names, Mr. Leupolt. In fact, only the Church missionaries went in that direction, and they could go in no other.

As we were hastening to the Ganges we knew from the noise of the musketry and cannon that the battle was going on, and from the cloud of smoke rising from cantonments we feared that all the houses were on fire. We went with others to the house of an English merchant whom we knew well, and then as the natives were gathering around we betook ourselves to boats on the river, and got out into the stream. In a short time a messenger from cantonments reached us with the good news that our men were victorious, and that the mutineers were in flight. We returned to the house of our merchant friend with the intention of remaining there for the night. With our party were a number of children, some of them infants, and they, poor things, were put to rest in any corner which could be found. Between eight and nine the Brigade-Major, who had been slightly wounded, and had been saved from certain death by the faithfulness of a trooper, rode into the compound accompanied by men of the Irregular Cavalry regiment. We all ran out, and were told by him that a number of English soldiers, who had just arrived from Calcutta, were on the other side of the Ganges ready to be ferried over, and that they would form our escort to the Mint, which was between three and four miles distant. In the meantime we learned all that had occurred—how the Native Infantry regiment had mutinied, how they had been joined by the Sikhs, some said by panic, by others I believe more truly, from sympathy with their Hindustanee brethren, as was shown by their after conduct; and how all had been put to flight by our band of soldiers, aided by the guns. On our side four were killed and nineteen wounded, of whom the greater number afterwards died. How many of the Sepoys were killed was not ascertained, as, with the exception of a few, the dead and wounded were carried off by their comrades.

When all was ready we set out, a long cavalcade, with English soldiers in front and behind, and native troopers on each side, our guardians then, but before the morning dawned in flight to join the mutineers. It was a calm, beautiful moonlight night, forming a strange contrast to the turmoil of the preceding hours. The road took us by our house, and as we passed the gate a servant, who had been watching for us, came out with artificially cooled water, which was very welcome. We reached the Mint about midnight, and there the whole European community was assembled. On every side there was eager talk about our position and prospects, but there was no appearance of panic or fright. The mothers soon succeeded in finding spots in the spacious rooms of the Mint—which had not been swept, and were covered with half an inch of mud—for their precious charge, and there they remained to watch over them; while the men sauntered about, or tried to sit where anything like sitting was practicable. Stray shots were heard, and from the city went up rockets, which were regarded as signals to the Sepoys outside. Most were awake as if it were full day. Between three and four in the morning, as I was sitting with two or three others on a native bedstead, a person came and said, "Where is the magistrate? The city is up." It was a false alarm; the city remained strangely quiet. As the morning broke we were all in safety, and no enemy was to be seen. Many of the English soldiers were so overcome by fatigue that they lay on the gravel fast asleep, with their muskets by their side.

LIFE AT THE MINT.

In the Mint we all remained for more than a week in the greatest possible discomfort, unable to change our clothes except by going to some house outside, which some of us ventured to do. We once ventured to our house for some very necessary articles, and daily visits were paid to a barrack a short way off, where the sick and wounded were. During the day, with the blazing sun above us, and the wind blowing through the Mint with the heat of a furnace, we were obliged to confine ourselves to its large crowded rooms. The exposure was trying, but was patiently borne, and did no seeming injury to our health. At night we slept outside, most of us on the flat roof of the Mint, on bedding which our servants brought us. Our food was cooked at our homes, and brought to us by our servants, and very thankful were we to get it, though we had neither tables to sit at nor chairs to sit on. Had not our servants been faithful we should have starved, as the authorities, to prevent panic and to show a bold front, had laid in no provisions. This seems very unwise, and yet there is no doubt the bold front did much under God to effect our deliverance.

In the morning of the Sunday after the mutiny the Rev. C. B. Leupolt, of the Church Mission, preached on the parade ground. In the afternoon I was requested to preach. The soldiers, with their rifles in their hands, and the European inhabitants were my audience. I took for my text words which at once suggested themselves to my mind, "If God be for us, who can be against us?" These words of the Apostle Paul, I was afterwards told, came fraught with strength to the hearts of some present.

On Sunday evening it began to be whispered that mutiny had broken out at Allahabad. On Monday we knew all. The 6th N. I. Regiment, after professing in the afternoon their readiness to march to Delhi and fight the rebels, in the evening rose, murdered sixteen officers, six of them young lads who had just arrived, and all Europeans who came their way. Happily families were in the Fort, to which they had betaken themselves in opposition to the affectionate remonstrances of the native officers, who said it was a slur on their fidelity! The Sepoys plundered the Treasury; and it is said many of them were afterwards murdered by the villagers on account of the money with which they were laden.

As the Sepoys entirely disappeared, and the city of Benares was quiet, though the country around was much disturbed, most of us after a time returned to our homes. In our own case we found that not one of our servants had decamped, and not a pin's worth had been stolen. The very night of the mutiny a servant picked up the few silver spoons we had left on the table, and at considerable risk made his way to us to place them in his mistress's hands. Indeed, all about us acted with a faithfulness which elicited our warm gratitude.

INCIDENT AT THE MINT.