Meanwhile the rebels had been collecting in great numbers in and around Lucknow, and Sir James Outram had all he could do to hold his own against the repeated attacks of their overwhelming hordes. Lucknow contained at this time (March, 1858), a vast host in arms against us. Its population exceeded 300,000, thousands of whom were in arms, and determined to fight it out to the bitter end. The Insurgents had collected in numbers—computed at from 35,000 to 60,000 men; and some 50,000 or 60,000 of the Oude people had joined them; while every corner had been extensively fortified, there being upwards of 100 guns in position, beside field guns. Thus Sir Colin Campbell had no light task before him. But this gallant old hero knew well how to play his cards. After rolling up the enemy in all parts of the country with movable columns, he suddenly collected at Cawnpore and its vicinity some of the best regiments in our service—men who had been well proved on many a field—and with these forces he was determined to rout the boasting enemy out of their stronghold. The following regiments composed his army:—The 2nd Dragoon Guards or Bays; 7th Hussars, 9th Lancers, Hodson’s Horse, Sikh Cavalry, some fifty guns, and the 8th, 10th, 20th, 23rd, 34th, 38th, 42nd, 53rd, 75th, 79th, 82nd, 84th, 93rd, 97th, 101st, and 102nd regiments, two battalions of the Rifle Brigade, a good strong brigade of the Blue Jackets, and some 25,000 Natives, including Ghoorkas—men who were loyal to the backbone, and had often vied with our people for the post of honour. The forces in front of Sir Colin, under Sir James Outram at the Alum-Bagh, consisted of the 5th Fusiliers, 64th, 78th, 90th, and a number of loyal Natives, and all helped to co-operate in the final attack. The enemy fought with desperation from behind their stone walls; but Jack’s 68-pounders soon brought the bricks, stones, and mortar, about their ears, and they were then pitched or ejected out of the forts and batteries with the queen of weapons; whilst our nimble little friends, the Ghoorkas, did not forget to use their favourite deadly weapon—the knife.
For days the rebels clung with the tenacity of despair to every post until it was made completely untenable. Meanwhile our Cavalry were not idle, for as fast as the Mutineers came out of their hiding places they fell beneath swords wielded by English arms, or succumbed to the deadly thrusts of our troopers’ spears or lances. But before they entirely evacuated the city, the principal places where they had taken refuge had to be stormed. In some large buildings which had been converted into forts, the enemy had made up their minds to die, and here they fought as only fanatics or madmen will fight or die. Jung Bahador’s Ghoorkas taught the Mutineers, the murderers of defenceless women and children, some very salutary lessons, which, however, they never lived to talk about; and the Sikhs vied with them in destroying all that came in their way. There were no prisoners or wounded; this was a war of retribution, and all who opposed us—whether Mutineers or those who sided with them—met a traitor’s death.
One of the noblest soldiers that ever fought under our flag (Captain Hodson) fell in the taking of the Kaiser Bagh. This officer was he who captured the King of Delhi and his sons. He had been in at least fifty different fights—all through the Punjaub campaign—and the Sutlej campaign against the Sikhs At the breaking out of the Mutiny, he obtained permission from the Government to raise a strong regiment of Afghans, with whom he marched down to Delhi, and there did good service, for those men would go anywhere with their beloved chief, and when he fell they cried like children who had lost a fond father.
The rebels were at last dislodged from their strongholds, but a small body of them still held the Moosa Bagh, about four miles from Lucknow, whence Sir Colin was determined to oust or destroy them. Accordingly two strong Infantry brigades, with about 1500 Cavalry, and some 30 guns went at them, and they were dislodged in masterly style. It was at this place that a strong body of the enemy, dressed in clean white robes and armed with shields and sharp swords, sallied forth, headed by their Doroger, (priest or head man), an enormous fellow. They had all received a blessing, and were prepared to die. They had plenty of bhang (country liquor) poured down their throats to give them courage, and they fought with an utter contempt of death, cutting down our gunners at the guns. The 7th Hussars were at once brought up and sent at them, but a number were unhorsed and killed. The Highlanders then went at them, and destroyed them to a man. The enemy now broke up and dispersed. Some 20,000 of them made their way to Fyzabad, and other places.
FORMATION OF FLYING COLUMNS.
Columns were next formed under various officers, namely Hope Grant, Brigadiers Russell, Horsford, Kelley, Harcourt, Rawcroft, and others. But to go into details of the different fights that took place throughout Central India, with these columns and those under Sir R. Napier (now Lord Napier), Sir H. Rose (now Lord Strathearn), Colonel Whitelock, and others, would require a larger book than I intend to write. Our loss in following up the enemy from sunstrokes and apoplexy was fearful, although as much marching was done at night as possible. There was the enemy, and our commanders would admit of no excuse or delay; they must be got at, and the command was continually—“Forward! Men, the honour of our flag is at stake.” Our guns would sometimes stick so fast in mud, that they could not be extricated by horses. At times as many as twenty horses would be attached to one gun, and the longer it remained the deeper it sank. Then that massive animal, the elephant, would be brought into requisition, while the horses all stood on one side. One of these noble creatures of the forest would put his head and trunk to the gun, whilst another would pull at the traces, and walk off with it without any apparent exertion. We must have left a number of our heavy guns behind had it not been for these sagacious animals.
THE END OF THE REBELLION.
The enemy’s heart for fighting had been broken, or, in other words, the conceit about fighting had been all thrashed out of them by the end of 1858; and in marching after them we lost far more men from the effects of the sun than from actual conflict. They could run well, but fighting was out of the question, and consequently we had to run them down. They were intercepted at all points, and in trying to escape one column, they were almost sure to fall in with another. As soon as the proclamation of pardon was issued to all who had not been guilty of murdering defenceless women and children, men came in by hundreds, yea, thousands, and laid down their arms at our feet, supplicating for mercy, which was not refused. One rupee (or two shillings) was given to each, with passes to their respective homes, together with the caution that if they were found in arms against us any more they should die. Our faithful adherence to the proclamation had a wonderful effect upon the native mind. It was painful to behold some of these poor deluded wretches; they could not understand how it was we could forgive them. They said that when we were weak in numbers we destroyed all that came in our way; but now, when the whole of Bengal was bristling with European bayonets, the Sahibs were merciful. Many poor fellows were really to be pitied; for several of the regiments had not hurt one of their officers, but had protected them and their wives and children from danger. Yet they had gone over to the enemy—they said it was fate. They now found out that it was the will of a strong Government whom they had defied, that they should lose their pensions, which hundreds had been entitled to; for plenty of them had seen some of the roughest fighting against the Sikhs that ever India had witnessed. Master Pandy had played a doubtful game for heavy stakes, and had lost all.
A great proportion of the troops, both horse and foot, that went out to India in 1857-8, never fired a shot, though they were on the spot had their services been required. A large force had been sent on to the Punjaub, to strike its warlike inhabitants with awe. Nothing was left to chance. The Native troops were confronted at all points, and the poor deluded Sepoys could not make out where all the men were coming from. They had been given to understand, as I have already stated, that the whole of the British army had been destroyed in front of Sebastopol, and when we landed, with so many medals on our breasts, they began to inquire where we had been fighting. Being informed that we had just fought the Russians, they looked with amazement, for their priests had told them that we were all killed. All the Native troops in Bengal, and in a part of the Bombay and Madras presidencies, were disarmed; and there was not much ceremony about it. We marched up to them; an order was read; the European officers and Natives were then ordered to fall out; and the remainder commanded to pile arms and to take off their accoutrements. Thus their teeth were drawn to prevent mischief, and they were then made to do duty, with a ramrod only as a weapon.
WITH THE ROYAL FUSILIERS IN THE PUNJAUB AND ELSEWHERE.