July 15th.—I could only write a few words last night on my return from the fight, worn out as I was with a severe day's work. It is pretty much the same now, and while I write I am obliged to have two men to keep the candle alight with their hands, for the breeze gets up at night, and we have all the "Kanats" of the tents down to enable us to breathe; and having no shades to the candlesticks, it is rather difficult to write even that I am safe.
July 16th.—I have just bade good-bye to Colonel Welchman. The poor old man is better, but sadly pulled down and aged. The doctors now think his arm may be saved, that it may remain on, but it will never be of the slightest use to him again, the elbow-joint is so much injured. He and Captain Brown start to-morrow night, with a convoy of sick and wounded men and officers, for Umbâla and the hills. Of these, the 1st Fusileers form a sad proportion. With one or two exceptions, nothing could be better or more gallant than the conduct of this regiment. Jacob, Greville, Wriford, all admirable in the field, and the younger officers beyond all praise; Butler, F. Brown, Owen, and Warner, markedly so. In all the worst of the awful heat, dust, fatigue, work, and privation,—and all have been beyond description,—our plucky fellows have not only kept up their own spirits, but been an example and pattern to the camp. If any one was down in his luck, he had only to go to the Fusileers' mess and be jolly.
The story in the papers about the boot was essentially correct for once, though how they should have got hold of it I do not know, for I never mentioned it even to you, since it certainly could not be called a wound, though a very narrow escape from one. A rascally Pandy made a thrust at my horse, which I parried, when he seized his "tulwar" in both hands, bringing it down like a sledge-hammer; it caught on the iron of my antigropelos legging, which it broke into the skin, cut through the stirrup-leather, and took a slice off my boot and stocking; and yet, wonderful to say, the sword did not penetrate the skin. Both my horse and myself were staggered by the force of the blow, but I recovered myself quickly, and I don't think that Pandy will ever raise his "tulwar" again. I should not have entered into all these details about self but for those tiresome papers having made so much of it. The fight on that day (the 14th) was the old story. An attack in force on the right of our position; the enemy were allowed to blaze away, expending powder, and doing us no harm, until 4 p. m., when a column was sent down to turn them out of the gardens and villages they had occupied, and drive them back to the city. I had just returned from a long day's work with the cavalry, miles away in the rear, and had come back as far as Light's advanced battery. I was chatting with him for a few minutes en passant, when I saw the column pass down. I joined it, and sent for a few horsemen to accompany me, and when we got under fire, I found the Guide Infantry, under Shebbeare, had been sent to join in the attack. I accompanied them, and while the Fusileers and Coke's men were driving the mass of the enemy helter-skelter through the gardens to our right, I went, with the Guides, Goorkhas, and part of the Fusileers, along the Grand Trunk Road leading right into the gates of Delhi. We were exposed to a heavy fire of grape from the walls, and musketry from behind trees and rocks; but pushing on, we drove them right up to the very walls, killing uncounted numbers, and then were ordered to retire. This was done too quickly by the artillery, and some confusion ensued, the troops hurrying back too fast. The consequence was, the enemy rallied, bringing up infantry, then a large body of cavalry, and behind them again two guns to bear on us. There were very few of our men, but I managed to get eight horsemen to the front. Shebbeare, though wounded, aided me in rallying some Guide Infantry, and Greville and Jacob (whose horse had just been shot) coming up, brought a few scattered Fusileers forward. I called on the men to fire, assuring them that the body of cavalry coming down would never stand. I got a few men to open fire; my gallant Guides stood their ground like men; Shebbeare, Jacob, Greville, and little Butler, came to the front, and the mass of the enemy's cavalry, just as I said, stopped, reeled, turned, and fled in confusion; the guns behind them were for the moment deserted, and I tried hard to get up a charge to capture them; we were within thirty paces; twenty-five resolute men would have been enough; but the soldiers were blown, and could not push on in the face of such odds, unsupported as we were, for the whole of the rest of the troops had retired. My eight horsemen stood their ground, and the little knot of officers used every exertion to aid us, when suddenly two rascals rushed forward with lighted port-fires in their hands, fired the guns, loaded with grape, in our faces, and when the smoke cleared away, we found, to our infinite disgust and chagrin, that they had limbered up the guns and were off at a gallop. We had then to effect our retreat to rejoin the column, under a heavy fire of grape and musketry, and many men and officers were hit in doing it. I managed to get the Guides to retire quietly, fighting as they went, and fairly checking the enemy, on which I galloped back and brought up two guns, when we soon stopped all opposition, and drove the last living rebel into his Pandemonium. My Guides stood firm, and, as well as my new men, behaved admirably; not so all who were engaged, and it was in consequence of that poor Chamberlain got wounded; for seeing a hesitation among the troops he led, who did not like the look of a wall lined with Pandies, and stopped short instead of going up to it, he leaped his horse clean over the wall into the midst of them, and dared the men to follow, which they did, but he got a ball in the shoulder. There is not a braver heart or cooler head in camp; his fault is too great hardihood and exposure in the field and a sometimes too injudicious indifference to his own life, or that of his men. We are in a nice fix here; General Reed is so ill he is ordered away at once; Chamberlain is on his back for six weeks at least; Norman, however, is safe and doing admirably; were he to be hit, the "head-quarters" would break down altogether. There will be no assault on Delhi yet; our rulers will now less than ever decide on a bold course; and truth to tell, the numbers of the enemy have so rapidly increased, and ours have been so little replenished in proportion, and our losses, for a small army, have been so severe, that it becomes a question, whether now we have numbers sufficient to risk an assault. Would to Heaven it had been tried when I first pressed it. How many brave hearts have been sacrificed in consequence. Coke's men suffered severely on the 14th from getting too close, yet not close enough, to the city walls.
July 17th.—But little private writing for me to-day, as I have only just come back from Brigadier Hope Grant's tent, whither I went on business, and I have been fully occupied with news-writers cum multis aliis. I begin to think of giving up this Quartermaster-General's work, now that times are so changed. I began with poor General Anson, "under his Excellency's personal orders;" I continued this work under General Barnard at his request, and now for these last days under General Reed; but he too is incapacitated by sickness, age, and anxiety, and goes off to the hills to-night. Colonel Curzon left for Simla yesterday. Colonel Congreve also goes, so the head-quarters of the army are finally breaking up. The Adjutant-General (Chamberlain) is badly wounded, the Quartermaster-General (Colonel Becher) ditto, though he does work a little in-doors, if one may use such an expression of a tent, but he ought not to do even that much, so badly hurt as he is. Colonel Young, Norman, and myself are therefore the only representatives of the head-quarter staff, except the doctors and commissaries. The head-quarters of the army are now at Calcutta, General Pat Grant's arrival having been announced, and this army has dropped into merely a field force, commanded by Brigadier Wilson as senior, with the rank of Brigadier-General. I can hardly reconcile myself to throw up the Intelligence Department now that I have had the trouble of getting it into working order; but for my own sake I must do so, for it is a terrible drag on me, and ties me down too much. I am wonderfully well, thank God! and able to get through as much work as any man; but commanding two regiments, and being eyes and ears of the army too, is really too much! Shebbeare and Macdowell are appointed to my regiment in general orders—the former as second in command, but to continue for the present with the Guides; the latter as adjutant, but to act as second in command also, for the present. I hope to have another officer or two in a few days, as more now devolves on poor Mac than his fragile frame can well stand. I wish his bodily strength was equal to his will and courage. It is hot, oh, how hot! and we can have nothing but a hand punkah occasionally; if our servants were to make off, we should indeed be in a pretty predicament, but hitherto they have been faithful and unmurmuring.
July 19th.—I was quite unable to write yesterday, as I went out long before daylight; so with the exception of a few minutes at 8 a. m. I was in the saddle until dark! We had a smart engagement in the afternoon. I was sent for to take the Guide cavalry down into the suburbs to support some guns, and assist in driving the enemy back into the city. We were commanded by a fine old gentleman, who might sit for a portrait of Falstaff, so fat and jolly is he: Colonel Jones, of the 60th Rifles. We got down to our point, close to the walls of Delhi, easily enough, the rascally enemy being ready enough to turn and fly for shelter; but to return was the difficulty; the instant we began to draw off, they followed us, their immense numbers giving them a great power of annoyance at very slight cost to themselves. The brave old colonel was going to retire "all of a heap," infantry, guns, and all in a helpless mass, and we should have suffered cruel loss in those narrow roads, with walls and buildings on both sides. I rode up to him and pointed this out, and in reply received carte blanche to act as I saw best. This was soon done, with the assistance of Henry Vicars (Adjutant 61st) and Coghill, (Adjutant 2d Bengal European Fusileers,) both cool soldiers under fire, though so young, and we got off in good order and with trifling loss, drawing the men back slowly and in regular order, covered by Dixon's and Money's guns. My own men, whose duty was the difficult one of enduring a very hot fire without acting, behaved admirably, and I had the satisfaction of losing only one killed and two wounded, besides a few horses, who generally come off second best where bullets are flying about. My poor "Feroza" was hit by one, but not dangerously, and I was again most mercifully preserved unharmed. I was out again early this morning reconnoitring, and have only just returned in time to write even so much, too much of myself as usual for my own feeling, but you will have it so[34].
July 20th.—I had a very fatiguing, because sunshiny, ride yesterday, and a troublesome species of reconnaissance, to prevent the enemy getting into our rear. Their name is indeed "legion" compared with us. I should say, from all I can ascertain by the news-letters, that there cannot be less than 36,000[35] fighting men in Delhi, while we are barely a fifth of that number, including cavalry and all! Our position, however, is much strengthened, and we now beat them with half the trouble we had at first, their appetite for fighting being considerably lessened by having been so repeatedly driven back; but alas! we only drive them back, while we do not advance an inch. The odds have, moreover, fearfully increased against us by their continued accessions, and I confess I now see less and less hope of success in an assault; when I first urged it, the enemy had not more than 7,000 Sepoys in the city, while we had 2,000 infantry alone. Now, as I said before, the case is very different; for even were we to undertake an assault with a reasonable prospect of success, if they should, in despair, determine to defend the city inch by inch, or street by street, we should not have men enough to secure our hold upon it. In that case, the city people (all of whom are armed) would join in the fray, and, considering what the consequences of failure would be, and further, that to do this much we should be obliged to use up every man available, leaving no one, or next to none, to protect our camp, sick, and wounded, from any attempt of the enemy, or of our questionable friends, the country people, it becomes a matter of serious and painful consideration. A want of success, moreover, would now be productive of infinite mischief. From hence to Allahabad, the fort of Agra and the Residency of Lucknow are the only spots where the British flag still flies. We are more to be considered now as an isolated band, fighting for our very name and existence in the midst of an enemy's country, than as an avenging army about to punish a rebel force. Sir H. Lawrence is holding out at Lucknow, but Cawnpore has fallen into the hands of the rebels. Sir Hugh Wheeler, after three weeks' contest, with, we hear, only 150 Europeans, in an evil hour capitulated, on condition of being provided with boats and a free passage to Allahabad; as soon as they were on board the boats, the whole were massacred! What became of the women and children we know not; it is hoped they might have been sent away earlier and escaped; otherwise it is horrible to think of what may have been their fate. Troops are collecting fast at Allahabad, and I hope moving on towards Cawnpore; some think we shall be forced to await their arrival at or near Delhi, before we can do anything effective. I trust earnestly that the city will not hold out so long. The people within it are immensely disheartened, and dissensions are rife among them. A split between the Hindoos and fanatic Mahommedans is almost inevitable, and, above all, money is getting scarce. Meantime, this "waiting race" is very wearying to heart and body.
... I have determined on giving up the Assistant Quartermaster-Generalship. It gives me more work than I really can manage in such weather, in addition to the command of two regiments. Macdowell promises admirably, and I trust there is every hope of our having a nice body of officers with "Hodson's Horse." Nothing further from Agra, beyond the assurance that all was well there.
July 21st.—Just returned from a long reconnaissance, and the post going out, so I have time but for little. Do not believe what the idle gossips say, of my "doing the work of two or three men." I strive to do my duty, but I cannot consider I do more. I do not run wanton risks, but I cannot stand by and see what ought to be done, without risking something to do it. Had I not attempted what I did on the 14th, even with the insufficient means at my command, we should have been exposed to a disastrous loss of life, and to the discredit of a reverse. That we cannot afford. It is not only the possession of India which is at stake, not only our name and fame as Englishmen, but the safety, life, and honor of those nearest and dearest to us; were we to fail here, the horrible scenes of Meerut, Delhi, Rohilcund, Jhansee, and others, would be repeated in the Punjaub and hill stations. Who, then, as husband, brother, father, son, would hesitate to face any danger, any risk, which tended to secure victory? I saw that our men were retiring (by order) in great confusion, that five minutes more and the whole party would be destroyed, and the fate of the column sealed, for the enemy's cavalry and guns were opening on us at speed. It was a natural impulse to rush forward, and nobly was I aided by Jacob and Greville, and my handful of gallant Guides; the tide was turned by the suddenness of the act; the enemy were driven back, and our men had time to breathe. This was not much to do, but it was a great deal to gain.
July 22d.—Again but a few lines, for I have been regularly hunted all day. I told you that Sir H. Wheeler had capitulated, and been treacherously destroyed with his party; we have since heard that a force from Allahabad had reached Cawnpore under Colonel Neill of the Madras Fusileers, that Sir H. Lawrence has been succored, and that, in point of fact, our power up to Agra had been reestablished. God grant this be true. Agra is safe, and all well; the troops which attacked it are afraid to come on here, and have halted at Muttra. The force in Delhi is much disheartened, and fights with gradually decaying energy. Already we have beaten them back in twenty-three fights, besides a few such affairs on my own private account, and though with considerable loss to us, yet with comparative ease, when you consider their overwhelming numbers. We had an engagement on the evening of the 20th, in which Colonel Seaton commanded our column, the 1st Fusileers, 61st Foot, and Guides as usual. I had command of the Guide infantry, and led the advance as well as covered the retreat; and though we pushed close up to Delhi, we never had a shot fired from the walls until we had set out on our return to camp some way. They then came howling after us like jackals, but the Guides were mindful of their old leader's voice, and steadily kept them in check during the whole distance, so completely, that not a European soldier was under fire, and I only lost four men slightly wounded, while the enemy returned in utter discomfiture. Poor Light has been very ill, and Thompson has a bullet through his leg. Bishop also is wounded; he retains the same calm composure of manner under the hottest fire and hardest work, as he habitually exhibited on the Mall. These are excellent officers, but Tombs and Light are really splendid. I hope Chamberlain's arm will be saved; he is a noble fellow, but of course has his weaknesses.