Suddenly, however, the daring freebooter appeared again; and moving south at the head of five thousand horse, threatened the frontier of the Mysore, and naturally occasioned immense alarm over a country so open to his predatory visits. No time was lost in despatching a sufficient force to crush him altogether, or compel him to retire, and Colonel Wellesley was intrusted with the command. Another force was directed to co-operate with that of the colonel; but fearing the marauder would escape unless promptly encountered, Wellesley pushed on alone, and by forced marches succeeded in coming up with him, while Dhoondia was encamped, as he imagined, in perfect security. The fellow, naturally daring, took up a strong position, and boldly waited for the British assault. Colonel Wellesley led the charge—it was admirably made, and the marauder’s fate was decided. His cavalry were cut to pieces or dispersed, Dhoondia himself sabred, and his body, secured upon a gun, was brought in triumph to the camp. Thus perished the king of “the two worlds,”—for such was the unassuming title by which the freebooter was pleased to have himself designated by his banditti.
An intended expedition against Batavia, in which Colonel Wellesley was promised a command, was for some reasons abandoned. Baird, with a division, was despatched to Egypt by the Desert rout; and Wellesley reappointed to the government of the Mysore.
Affairs again began to assume a threatening look. The Mahratta chiefs exhibited an unfriendly attitude; and to cement an alliance with the Peishwah, and thus tranquillize the country, a portion of Tippoo’s territory was offered and rejected. Scindia, with his army, was at Poona—and his influence directed every act of that dependent court.
A misunderstanding between Scindia and Holkar brought on a war between those chiefs. Holkar advanced on Poona, compelling Scindia to accept battle, in which he was defeated—the Peishwah deserting his ally in the hour of need, and concluding a treaty with the British. To effectuate this, Wellesley, now a major-general, took the field, with orders to drive Holkar from Poona, and secure the Peishwah’s return to his capital—and learning that the Mahrattas intended to plunder Poona, the general saved it by an extraordinary forced march, accomplishing sixty miles in thirty hours—a marvellous exertion indeed to be made under an Indian sun.
All for a short time was quiet; but those restless chiefs again assumed a hostile position. Scindia and the Rajah of Berar moved towards the Nizam’s frontier; while the former was negotiating with Holkar, his late enemy, to arrange their differences, and make common cause against the English.
To prepare for the threatened attack, the Marquis Wellesley invested the officers commanding the armies of Hindoostan and the Deccan with full powers; and to General Wellesley a special authority was given to make peace, or commence hostilities, as his own judgment should determine. In accordance with this power, a demand was made on Scindia that he should separate from the Rajah of Berar, and re-cross the Nerbuddah. To this demand an evasive reply was returned—and Eastern cunning was employed to obtain such delay as should permit the chieftains’ plans to be matured, and enable them to take the field in force. This shuffling policy was, however, quite apparent; and on the first information that his political agent had quitted Scindia’s camp, Wellesley suddenly broke up his cantonments, and marched directly on Ahmednuggur.
This ancient town was defended in the Eastern fashion with a high wall, flanked at its bends and angles by a tower, and garrisoned by some of Scindia’s infantry and an auxiliary force of Arabs, while a body of the chieftain’s cavalry occupied the space between the pettah and the fort. Wellesley, without delay, assaulted the town, and carried it by escalade. On the 10th, the British cannon opened on the fort—the keeladar in command proposed terms, and the English general expressed a readiness to listen to his propositions, but the guns continued working. Indian diplomacy has no chance when batteries are open; and, on the 12th, a garrison of fourteen hundred marched out, and the place was delivered up. This fortress, from its locality, was valuable; it secured the communications with Poona, made a safe depôt for military stores, and was centrically placed in a district whose revenue was above 600,000 rupees.
With a short delay, Wellesley moved on Aurungabad, and entered that splendid city on the 29th. The enemy moved in a south-easterly direction, threatening Hyderabad—while the British, marching by the left bank of the Godaverey, secured their convoys from Moodgul, and obliged Scindia to retire northwards. As yet the Mahratta chiefs were moving a cavalry force north, with but a few matchlock-men; but they were joined now by their whole artillery and sixteen battalions of infantry, officered chiefly by Frenchmen.
On the 21st, at a conference at Budnapoor, General Wellesley and Colonel Stevenson arranged a combined attack for the 24th. They were to move east and west, pass the defiles on the same day, and thus prevent any movement of the enemy southward. A mistake, in distance, brought General Wellesley much sooner to his halting-place than had been calculated; and learning that the Mahratta army were already breaking up to retire, he sent orders to Colonel Stevenson to advance; and announcing his immediate march on Scindia, begged his colleague to hurry forward to his assistance.
The cavalry consisted of the 19th Light Dragoons, and three native regiments, under the command of Colonel Maxwell, a bold and skilful officer. General Wellesley accompanied the horse—the infantry following in light marching order. After passing a league and half of ground, the advance reached an eminence; and on the right, and covering an immense extent of country, the Mahratta army appeared.