From the rebels still in the field, various comments on the terms so offered reached our cantonments. They considered that for crimes committed the sepoys deserved punishment by death, nor could they understand the exemption to that penalty now expressed. “As an earthquake”—​according to their “prophets”—​“has three waves, so will there be three shocks to British power in India: one we have just had; a second will occur a few years hence; the last after a longer interval, when the British position in India will vanish.”

The arrival of papers with a new warrant[197] for the Medical Department of the Army naturally enough was of considerable interest to those of us who belonged to that branch of the military service. As expressed in my diary at the time: “Most liberal it is, wiping away at one swoop the grievances under which the Department has laboured, and making it, as it ought to be, one of the best, if not the very best, in the Army.” The great importance of the duties pertaining to that department in relation to individual needs and general military efficiency of a force was then prominently in my view from actual experience.

Shortly after the Proclamation by Her Majesty was read, a counter document of similar nature was issued by the Begum of Lucknow; but the latter produced little if any effect upon the rebels or their chiefs, numbers of both “coming in” one after another to make their submission. An attempt was made by a leading journal[198] to ascertain the number of persons who, being convicted of crimes against the State, had suffered the penalty of death. They were, according to that paper, as follows, from the outbreak of the Mutiny, namely:—​By military tribunal, executed by hanging, 86; by civil tribunal, 300; the number shot by musketry, 628; blown from guns, 1,370; making a total of 2,384. The deposed King of Delhi recently passed our station by steamer, en route to Calcutta, and finally to Rangoon, there to spend the remaining portion of his life. The event gave rise to comment in respect to the action of the old king against the Indian Government, including his correspondence with the Shah of Persia in 1856; his reputed sanction of atrocities at Delhi in May, ’57; his correspondence with Lucknow, etc. Another subject of talk was the reported escape of the Nana, the truth of which was soon thereafter confirmed. Lastly, the publication of correspondence between Colonel Edwards, Sir John Lawrence, and the Viceroy,[199] in respect to that portion of the Proclamation which related to native customs, religious and otherwise, afforded ample subject to discuss in our social coteries.

In the early days of 3859 came the welcome orders that all detached parties of the 10th should rejoin Headquarters, for the purpose of volunteering preparatory to the departure of the regiment for England. Other orders directed various reductions to be made in military establishments now in India; among them the withdrawal of several time-expired regiments, and the return to their respective ships of the Naval Brigades temporarily employed; that regiments still in the field should proceed to quarters; brigadiers commanding columns cease to hold appointments as such—​thus declaring in effect that the campaign connected with the great Mutiny was ended. But the facts were well known that bodies of rebels and mutineers were in the field, special forces actually employed against them; that bodies of disaffected had taken refuge in Nepaul. These and various other incidents were looked upon as so many supplements to the great drama at the end of which official orders declared that we had arrived.

Now there occurred an event the outcome of which to several men who, like myself, had held distinct charges of troops on active service, was much chagrin and disappointment; namely, our supersession in promotion by four officers, personally good, but who, though in the Crimea, had neither there nor elsewhere held equivalent positions. Some little time thereafter there appeared in a service journal[200] a leading article “On the partiality and injustice to the Department exhibited in the late promotions.” This was the first outcome of a warrant regarding which first impressions were as already recorded.

At last came orders for the 10th to prepare for an early march towards the port of embarkation for England, and that meantime volunteering should be open to soldiers desiring to prolong their service in India. All such orders were obeyed with the greatest possible alacrity. The usual formalities on similar occasions being attended to, 141 of our men availed themselves of the option thus given them, and so ceased to belong to the corps in which they had performed much excellent work under very trying circumstances. On an intervening Sunday a farewell sermon[201] was preached to the regiment in our garrison church, and as I noted at the time, “strange as it seems, some of the soldiers were visibly affected thereby”; but as I have had numerous opportunities of seeing, soldiers of the period now referred to, notwithstanding the undoubted roughness of the great majority, had in their numbers many men keenly sensitive to the finer impulses of our common human nature.

Before daylight on February 10, our regiment began its march, “played out” of Dinapore by the band of the 19th Foot. Eight days thereafter we encamped in near vicinity of Gyah, a place sacred to Buddhists, and interesting in other ways. Two days more and we were on the Grand Trunk Road. Soon at the hot wells of Burkutta, the water of which, clear and having a slight odour of sulphur, is said to have many medicinal virtues.

In observing the necessary custom on a march, of halting on the seventh day, an opportunity was afforded those of us interested in such matters, to ascend the hill of Parisnath. Occupying the eastern tableland of the Vindyha range, itself 4,449 feet in height, like Mount Aboo on the west of the same range, its summit is covered with small Jain temples. Its sides are clothed with dense forests of sal (Vateria indica).

In the course of our march, several trains of camels or kafilats, with their Cabulee drivers, were met, as they were on their return journey from Calcutta to Affghanistan. In accordance with the custom of the time, they had begun their journey from Cabul eight months previous, and hoped to return at the end of four more, thus completing it in one year. These kafilats brought with them for sale in India, and Calcutta more especially, fruit of different kinds, spices, skins, asafœtida, and salep;[202] with the proceeds of the sale of which they purchased and carried back with them bales of cotton goods, and others of European manufacture. These caravans, including camels, drivers, and “followers,” presented a picturesque and patriarchal scene, as in long lines they seemed to glide along the road. Arrived at Raneegunge, our camp was pitched for the last time. There a delay of several days took place, while arrangements were in progress for embarkation; hurried journeys by rail to and from Calcutta being made by those of us whose duty it was to carry those arrangements into effect. A series of coal-mines situated not far from our camp were being worked; but the industry was, comparatively speaking, in its infancy.

In the early morning of St. Patrick’s Day, the regiment, stepping out cheerfully to the familiar music appropriate to the occasion, and dear to Irish soldiers, marched away from camp to railway station; thence proceeded by train to Howrah, then by river steamer to the ship King Philip, and so embarked. On the second day thereafter our ship, taken in tow by a river tug, began her homeward voyage. As we glided past Fort William, a Royal salute, fired from its ramparts, was a gratifying compliment paid by order of Government to the departing regiment for services performed by it during a most eventful episode in India’s history. Wearied and worn out as our men were as a result of those services, no cheer was raised in response to the unusual compliment being paid to them.