Burmah and the Burmese

by Kenneth R. H. Mackenzie

During this time the confidence of the Burmese had increased, and on the 27th they actually advanced within sight of the picquets, and sat down. This was observed by Major Snodgrass, who, desirous of knowing whether they were merely stragglers, or part of any considerable body, immediately pursued them. He and his men found their way, however, stopped by a small stockade stretching right across the road. After a few shots, the British party, only twenty-two in number, charged the work, and carried it. The natives, sixty in number, immediately fled. The success which had attended this movement determined Sir Archibald Campbell in his resolution to attempt a reconnoissance in person; a measure that was put into execution the next morning. On arriving at the stockade just mentioned, it was found reoccupied by the Burmese, who were repairing it with great rapidity. However, on perceiving the troops, they immediately fled. The same thing took place at a bridge beyond the village of Kokein, “and,” observes Snodgrass, “at every turn of the road, breastworks and half-finished stockades, hastily abandoned, proved that so early a visit was neither anticipated nor provided for.”[289]

“Our troops,” says the author of Two Years in Ava,[290] “continued advancing in echellon, the light company of the thirty-eighth on the left skirting the jungle; the grenadiers in the centre, on the plain; and the thirteenth on the right: when, at a sudden turn, the light company observed a stockade about a hundred yards distant, having a ravine full of water in front of it. A dead silence pervaded the work; and Captain Piper, instantly forming his men in line, charged up to the stockade, and through the ravine without firing a shot. When we were within about thirty yards, the Burmans gave a most terrific yell, accompanied by beating of drums, tom-toms, and other instruments, and opened a sharp and well-directed fire, by which we suffered severely. As the enemy was covered by a thick palisade, with loopholes, we saw not a man; and even if we had, our fire could not have proved serviceable, as not a single musket would go off, in consequence of the wet; whereas the Burmans were protected from the weather by sheds, and consequently their arms were uninjured. On arriving at the foot of the work, after forcing the way through a capital abatis, the entrance was found barred up; and the height of the work, and the want of ladders, preventing escalading, the men were for some time, therefore, exposed to the assaults of the enemy, who threw out spears, and tried every effort to drive us off. They were unavailing: the passage was forced, and the troops rushed on with the bayonet. Finding this face of the work carried, a number of Burmans rushed with their spears to the opposite side, and there awaited the approach of the assailants; but a section dashing at them with the bayonets, annihilated almost the whole.... Evening was now coming on fast, we were encumbered with between thirty and forty wounded, without any means of carrying them, except the officers’ horses, and three or four doolies;[291] and Sir A. Campbell, therefore, determined on returning without attacking a small stockade a little farther on, having first made a forward movement with his troops to see whether the Burman line, which was still drawn up, would await our approach. It fell back as we advanced, and we then, after burning the two stockades of Joazong, recommenced the march home.” In this action several officers were severely, some mortally, wounded. On the Burmese side the loss was about four hundred. The commander on the native side was the former Rayhoon of Rangoon, a man of talent and experience. The enemy retired from the field during the night, after digging up and horribly mutilating the bodies of two soldiers who had fallen there the day before!

The unexpected results of the skirmish opened the eyes of the Burmese commanders to the inefficacy of their system of warfare. Feeling their inferiority, and wishing to gain time for altering and strengthening their defences, the Burmese sent two ambassadors to the English camp. This was on the 9th June. Major Snodgrass thus describes the whole interview:[292]—

“The principal personage of the two, who had formerly been governor of Bassein, was a stout, elderly man, dressed in a long scarlet robe, with a red handkerchief tied round his head, in the usual Burman style. His companion, although dressed more plainly, had much more intelligence in his countenance; and notwithstanding his assumed indifference and humble demeanour, it soon became evident that to him the management of the interview was intrusted, though his colleague treated him in every respect as an inferior.

“The two chiefs, having entered the house, sat down with all the ease and familiarity of old friends; neither constraint nor any symptom of fear appeared about either; they paid their compliments to the British officers, and made their remarks on what they saw with the utmost freedom and good-humour. The elder chief then opened the subject of their mission, with the question, ‘Why are you come here with ships and soldiers?’ accompanied with many professions of the good faith, sincerity, and friendly disposition of the Burmese government. The causes of the war and the redress that was demanded were again fully explained to them. The consequences of the line of conduct pursued by their generals, in preventing all communication with the court, was also pointed out, and they were brought to acknowledge that a free and unreserved discussion of the points at issue could alone avert the evils and calamities with which their country was threatened. Still they would neither confess that the former remonstrances of the Indian government had reached their king, nor enter into any arrangement for removing the barrier they had placed in the way of negotiation, but urged, with every argument they could think of, that a few days’ delay might be granted, to enable them to confer with an officer of high rank then at some distance up the river: they were, however, given to understand, that delay and procrastination formed no part of our system, and that the war would be vigorously prosecuted, until the king of Ava thought proper to send officers with full authority to enter upon a treaty with the British commissioners.

“The elder chief, who had loudly proclaimed his love of peace, continued chewing his betel-nut with much composure, receiving the intimation of a continuance of hostilities with more of the air and coolness of a soldier who considered war as his trade, than became the pacific character he assumed; while his more shrewd companion vainly endeavoured to conceal his vexation at the unpleasant termination of their mission, and unexpected failure of their arts and protestations. But although the visit had evidently been planned for no other purpose than that of gaining time, the chiefs did not object to carry with them to their camp a declaration of the terms upon which peace would still be restored; and that they might take their departure with a better grace, expressed their intention of repeating their visit in the course of a few days, for the purpose of opening a direct communication between the British general and the Burmese ministers. The elder chief, again alluding to his being no warrior, hoped that the ships had strict orders not to fire upon him; but while he said so, in stepping into his boat, there was a contemptuous smile upon his own face and the countenances of his men, that had more of defiance than entreaty in it.”

The next morning (June 10th) the British intentions regarding Kemendine were put into execution. A breach was soon made in the teak-wood stockade by the cannon, and a column of English and Indian troops stormed the place. Major Sale, with his detachment, had some hot work, for the place at which he entered was full of men, who defended themselves with the bravery of despair. Thirty of the Anglo-Indians fell, though for them one hundred and sixty Burmese perished. Even when this place was taken, little had been accomplished, as the principal stockade, about half a mile distant, had yet to be besieged. “We lost no time,” says an eye-witness, and actor in the affair, “in advancing to it; and in order completely to hem the Burmahs in, the flotilla was sent up the river, beyond the works, so as to prevent their escaping by water; whilst the land force proceeded through the jungle. The left of our line rested on the river, and the right was moving round the north of the stockade; thus completing a semicircle; when it was discovered that, in addition to the main work, two smaller ones existed further up, which it was impossible for us with our force to surround; a space of two hundred yards was therefore unavoidably left between our right and the river, it being exposed to the fire of both stockades. Night had already approached; the rain began to pour without intermission, and neither men nor officers were sheltered from it, or had any cover, not even of great coats. The night we passed in this situation was such as may easily be imagined.... The shouts of the Burmahs had a curious effect, much heightened by the wild scenery of the dark, gloomy forest which surrounded us; first, a low murmur might be heard, rising as it were gradually in tone, and followed by the wild and loud huzza of thousands of voices; then, again, all was silence, save now and then a straggling shot or challenge from our own sentries; and soon after, another peal of voices would resound through the trees. This they continued all night; but towards morning the yells became fainter and fainter, and at daybreak they totally ceased.”[293]

In the morning, operations were resumed; and on the storming parties advancing to the capture, they found, to their astonishment, that the enemy had decamped! Possession was immediately taken, and a regiment left in garrison, while the rest returned to cantonments, very much irritated by the loss of their opponents. Five pieces of cannon were found in the inclosure, and numbers of jinjals. Outside the upper gate lay a gilt chattah or umbrella of rank, and some distance beyond, the body of the elder chief, who had visited the English camp.

Major Wahab and Brigadier McCreagh returned from Cheduba and Negrais about this time, having accomplished the purpose for which they were detached. The capture of these places had not been completed without some loss and considerable slaughter. Cheduba was expected to have proved of some use, but it was found that, with the exception of a few buffaloes, the supplies were not of any utility. About this time also, the force was augmented by the 89th British regiment from Madras.

The effects of heavy work in the swamps now began to be seen in the fatal form of disease among the Anglo-Indian troops. “Constantly exposed to the vicissitudes of a tropical climate, and exhausted by the necessity of unintermitted exertion, it need not be a matter of surprise that sickness now began to thin the ranks and impair the energies of the invaders. No rank was exempt from the operation of these causes; and many officers, amongst whom were the senior naval officer, Captain Marryat; the political commissioner, Major Canning; and the Commander-in-Chief himself, were attacked with fever, during the month of June. Amongst the privates, the Europeans especially, the sickness incident to fatigue and exposure was aggravated by the defective quantity and quality of the provisions which had been supplied for their use. Relying upon the reported facility of obtaining cattle and vegetables at Rangoon, it had not been thought necessary to embark stores for protracted consumption on board the transports from Calcutta, and the Madras troops landed with a still more limited stock. As soon as the deficiency was ascertained, arrangements were made to remedy it; but in the mean time, before supplies could reach Rangoon, the troops were dependent for food upon salt meat, much of which was in a state of putrescence, and biscuit, in an equally repulsive condition, under the decomposing influence of heat and moisture. The want of sufficient and wholesome food enhanced the evil effects of the damp soil and atmosphere, and of the malaria from the decaying vegetable matter of the surrounding forests, and the hospitals were rapidly filled with sick, beyond the means available of medical treatment. Fever and dysentery were the principal maladies, and were no more than the ordinary consequences of local causes; but the scurvy and hospital gangrene, which also made their appearance, were ascribable as much to depraved habits and inadequate nourishment as to fatigue and exposure. They were also latterly, in some degree, the consequences of extreme exhaustion, forming a peculiar feature of the prevailing fever, which bore an epidemic type, and which had been felt with equal severity in Bengal. The fatal operation of these causes was enhanced by their continuance; and towards the end of the rainy season, scarcely three thousand men were fit for active duty. The arrival of adequate supplies, and more especially the change in the monsoon, restored the troops to a more healthy condition.”[294]