A SURVIVOR’S NARRATIVE.
But, reader, the scenes that were enacted in the interior of that guilty city would baffle the imagination. I will try and describe a few of them, though language would utterly fail me were I to attempt to pourtray them in adequate terms. A number of gentlemen employed at the various banks and public offices, the greater portion of whom lived in the city, being burdened with large families, were unable to procure means of escape. It was reported to Mr. —— by one of his servants that there was an uproar in the city, that the Cavalry from Meerut were murdering all the Europeans they could lay their hands upon, and that the Budmashes of the city (rogues or villains) had joined them. He did not know what to do, and waited for a time to see what would turn up. “In the mean time,” he says, “we held a prayer meeting, and committed ourselves into His keeping, whose arm I knew was not shortened. I then took a walk down the street and found it empty. I was armed with a good stick, and at a distance I could see a large crowd of men, all armed with lattees (sticks shod with iron) or talwars (swords). I offered a silent prayer for protection. I had promised my poor wife that I would not be gone long. I at once turned back, for I could distinctly hear them shouting and shrieking like madmen, ‘Maro Feringhee!’—kill the English. I had not got far when I found that there was another party in front of me, so I did not know what to do, as they had got between me and my house. I at once bolted down a narrow lane, and they after me, shouting—‘Maro, Maro Feringhee!’ One man tried to stop me. He had a talwar in his hand, but I managed to knock him down with my stick, while I received a wound in my shoulder, and passed on. I continued to dodge them, but could not get home, being hidden all day in a faithful Hindoo’s house. In the afternoon I succeeded in getting close up to my own house, and called one of my servants, but could not make any one hear. At last I made up my mind to go home at all hazards. I had not gone many yards when I met some Natives whom I knew well, and they told me to save myself. I got home as quickly as possible. I heard some one crying in one of my outhouses, and soon found out that it was a faithful servant of mine—an old man who had been in our service for upwards of twenty years. I called him by name, and when he saw me he, poor old man, burst out crying the louder, saying, ‘Oh, Sahib, they have killed them all, they have killed them all,’ wringing his hands in agony. I felt very faint, and requested him to give me a little water. It is impossible for me to describe my feelings. I sat down and asked the dear old creature to tell me all about it and how it happened. He again burst out crying, but after a time collected himself. I repeated ‘Now do tell me.’ ‘Oh, Sahib,’ he said, ‘when you had gone, Mem Sahib (lady) and all the children sat together, Mem Sahib was very frightened; we could hear a great noise, and the guns firing, and another Sahib next door loaded his gun, and shortly after a crowd came and went into the Sahib’s house. They were all armed with talwars and spears, and all went into the Sahib’s. The Sahib asked them what they wanted, when they commenced to abuse him, and told him that all Feringhees had to die. The servants all ran away—I only remained behind, and they told me if I did not go they would kill me. The Sahib told them to take what they liked, but not to kill us, or they would be hung. They abused him very much, and went up to his Mem Sahib and began to pinch her. She called upon the Sahib to protect her. The Sahib called out in a terrible voice, ‘Thome sawur’ (you pig), and shot the would-be murderer dead, and with another barrel shot another who had just killed one of his children, and then laid about them with the butt-end of his rifle, and with two revolvers he soon had a heap of dead all around him. But at last he was overpowered and killed, and they then set to and murdered all in the house; and they hit me, and told me again if I did not go they would kill me. I then ran to my Mem Sahib to try and protect her, but they threw me out of the house, and some of them said ‘Kill him,’ others said ‘He is an old man, let him go.’ They then killed all, and took away what they liked. I could listen to no more, but requested him to come into the house with me. I first went into my neighbour’s house, for I felt so bad that I could not face my own. Oh, horror of horrors! the first sight that I caught was that of a fine little fellow crucified to the wall; this cruel death the poor mother had been compelled to witness. They had then killed all the other children, and next stripped the poor mother naked and dishonoured her (she, poor thing, being far advanced in pregnancy), while her husband was lying dead beside her. What an end to come to! I sat down, for I thought my heart would burst. I sat for some time, and then went to my own door. I rapped at the door, but could not enter. I thought my brain would have turned. I was determined, however, to see all, if possible; but language fails to describe that horrible sight. All that was near and dear to me in this world lay mutilated on the ground. Oh, the intense agony I was in! I was now completely exhausted; how long I remained there I could not say. At last a feeling of revenge seemed to take hold of me. I jumped up, and went and found my revolvers (for I had two good ones). I loaded them, and then sat down by the side of my poor wife. I had not been there more than half-an-hour, when two men came in and called out in a commanding voice ‘Khon hy’ (who are you?) I remained quiet, and they came up to me and shouted, ‘Feringhee, Feringhee; Maro Feringhee Ko.’ I at once brought my revolver into play, and shot the fellow dead; he fell upon my poor wife, and before the other had time to move one yard I had the pleasure of dropping him, and finishing him off with his own sword, which, by the bye, was a good English blade. They were hardly down when three others came rushing in. It was then getting dusk, and they got a light; but I had my revenge, and shot the whole of them—two of them dead on the spot, and the third wounded; he tried to get away, but I caught him before he reached the door, and put a ball through his head. I knew it would not do for me to stop there, so I mustered all the strength I could, kissed my poor wife and five children—all cold in death. I found another good revolver that one of my would-be murderers had dropped, and some ball and powder. My good old servant dressed me up, and I passed out of the city as a Native. I started for Meerut next morning. I was joined by another fugitive who had escaped with bare life. I armed him with a revolver and sword, and we determined to sell our lives as dearly as possible. My poor comrade’s rashness nearly cost us our lives. A villain called us Feringhees, and urged one that was with him to ‘Mar Feringhee Ko!’ My comrade at once shot them both, and we took across the fields for it then!”
The following is a list of people killed at Delhi, on that terrible 11th of May, 1857:—Mr. S. Fraser, C.S., resident and governor-general’s agent; Capt. Douglas, 32nd native infantry, assistant and commandant of palace guards; the Rev. M. A. Jennings, chaplain, and Miss Jennings; Miss Clifford, Mr. Berresford, secretary, Delhi bank, Mrs. Berresford, and five children; Mr. R. Nixon, assistant to resident, Mr. and Mrs. Collins, and six children, Mrs. Fuller, Mr. and Mrs. Skinner and child, Colonel Ripley, 54th native infantry, Captains Burrowes and Smith, 54th native infantry, Dr. Dopping, Lieutenant Edwardes, Captain Gordon, 74th, Lieutenant Hyslop, 74th, Lieutenant Reveley, 74th, Mrs. Staines and family, and a large number of government and bank clerks, press employes, sergeants, conductors, &c., with their wives and families; also Mr. J. P. Macwhirter, C.S., of Kurnaul (on a visit), Mr. Hutchinson, C.S., magistrate and collector Mr. A. Galloway, C.S., assistant to ditto, Mrs. Colonel Forster, Mr. F. Taylor, principal Delhi college, Mr. S. G. T. Heatly, editor of the Delhi Gazette, Mrs. Heatly, mother and child, the Rev. Hubbard, missionary, the Rev. Sandes, ditto, Lieut. Raynor, commissary of ordnance, and family. The following escaped, though many of them were subsequently killed or wounded:—Brigadier H. M. Graves, Capt. Nicoll (major of brigade), Mr. C. T. Le Bas, C.S., C. and S. Judge, Sir T. J. Metcalfe, joint magistrate and deputy collector, Mrs. Fraser, Mrs. Tronson, Dr. Balfour, Miss Smith, Mr. and Mrs. Wagentreiber, and infant, Miss Haldane, Lieut. Forrest, Mrs. Forrest and two Miss Forrests, Dr. Stewart, garrison surgeon, Dr. Batson, 74th native infantry, Mrs. Batson and Miss Batson, Mrs. Major Abbott (74th) and family, Major Abbott, Major Paterson, 54th, Colonel Knyvett, 38th, Capt. Tytler, 38th, Lieuts. Holland and Gambier, 38th, Dr. Wood, 38th, Mrs. Wood, Lieut. Peile, 38th, Mrs. Peile, Lieuts. Taylor, Grant, Mew, and Drummond, 74th, Mr. L. Berkeley, principal Sudder Ameen, Mrs. Berkeley and Infant, Capt. De Tessier, artillery, Mrs. De Tessier, and Lieutenant Willoughby. In addition to the above, a very great number fell under the murderous swords and rifles of the Mutineers, on that terrible 11th of May, whose names were never known. The above list was published in the Delhi Gazette. Five officers only escaped that massacre. The scenes in that bloodthirsty city were beyond all conception. Innocent babes were thrown up and caught on the bayonets of these villains. Some of the poor defenceless women were spared for a few days in order to be tortured, and then hacked to pieces, while their dear babes were dashed on the pavement before them; and others were tied to trees and shot. The Natives themselves stood a very poor chance, with this lawless band of murderers around them; whatever they thought they wanted they took, and if a shopkeeper said one word he was shot, under pretence that he was favouring the Europeans.
The rebels were now in full possession of Delhi, and they commenced strengthening the place, for they knew well that the dreaded Feringhees would soon be after them; for the Government was now busy collecting all the available troops that could be relied upon; and it was only upon the Europeans troops that they could rely, for the whole of the Bengal army was either in open arms against us, or were doubtful friends; and it is far better to have an open enemy, then one knows how to deal with him. So at all stations where there were Europeans, the Natives had their teeth drawn (i.e. they were disarmed and dismissed).
THE GREASED CARTRIDGES.
I will now leave the rebels at Delhi for a time, and proceed to Umballah to notice the steps taken by the Commander-in-Chief. It was here that the much-talked-of “cartridge difficulty” came to a head, but it is not my province to enter into any lengthened explanation as to the origin of the allegation as to greased cartridges having been issued—the matter having been much discussed at the time both at home and in India. However, the dissatisfaction of the Native troops now exhibited symptoms of increasing strength, so that at length the European officers suggested the expediency of discontinuing the issue of cartridges. With this view the Commander-in-Chief coincided, and he issued a general order withdrawing the cartridges, and ordering ammunition to be made up by each regiment for its own use. But though many of the Natives professed to be satisfied by this step, it soon became evident that the excitement was by no means allayed. Incendiary fires broke out in all directions, and a vast amount of government and native property was destroyed. About the middle of May (the date of the outbreak at Meerut) many of the Native troops seized their arms, as if expecting a simultaneous movement on the part of their comrades elsewhere, and an outbreak appeared imminent, but the judicious interference and counsel of some of the Native officers availed to calm them, though the conduct of the Native troops was still far from satisfactory to the Europeans near. The Commander-in-Chief had gone to Simla for the season, and as soon as the news reached there of the deeds of the Mutineers at Delhi, all the available troops were ordered to march at once on Umballah. It was now, as I have said, about the middle of May, and the heat was something fearful. But the supremacy of Old England hung in the balance, and heat or no heat these noble regiments marched forward to measure their strength against bloodthirsty villains, and they went from victory to victory. The cowardly brutes could murder poor defenceless women and innocent children, but they soon found out, to their cost, that our arm was not shortened, and before four months were over the cringing fiends had paid with their lives for the unspeakably atrocious murders perpetrated. The horrible scenes enacted were enough to make one’s blood run cold, and I dare not attempt to recount them.
THE AVENGING ARMY.
But the avenging army was now on the track, and although it was only a small one, every man composing it was worth his weight in gold to the Government. The head of the Mutiny must be crushed before it had time to collect its forces. The 60th Rifles, 6th Carabineers, and Major Tombs’ battery of Horse Artillery from Meerut, had the honour of first opening the ball. The old 60th gave it them in right good style; and the gentlemen from Delhi got a taste of the Carabineers, but, not having an appetite for any more of such treatment, bolted into the city, leaving all their guns behind them. This force was afterwards joined by one from Umballah, and then marched upon the doomed city, which they were not strong enough to attack, so they pitched their camp on the parade ground, telling the Mutineers plainly that a day of retribution was at hand, that every English bayonet was destined to exact revenge—yea, a fearful revenge—for their murdered countrymen and countrywomen, and the poor helpless children.
AT BENARES AND ALLAHABAD.
A YOUTHFUL HERO.