The other anecdote goes back to Camp Kamara and the spring of 1856, when the Highland Brigade were lying there half-way between Balaclava and Sebastopol. As before noticed, Burroughs was more like a Frenchman than a Highlander; there were many of his old Polytechnique chums in the French army in the Crimea, and almost every day he had some visitors from the French camp, especially after the armistice was proclaimed.
Some time in the spring of 1856 Burroughs had picked up a Tartar pony and had got a saddle, etc., for it, but he could get no regular groom. Not being a field-officer he was not entitled to a regulation groom, and not being well liked, none of his company would volunteer for the billet, especially as it formed no excuse for getting off other duties. One of the company had accordingly to be detailed on fatigue duty every day to groom the captain's pony. On a particular day this duty had fallen to a young recruit who had lately joined by draft, a man named Patrick Doolan, a real Paddy of the true Handy Andy type, who had made his way somehow to Glasgow and had there enlisted into the Ninety-Third. This day, as usual, Burroughs had visitors from the French camp, and it was proposed that all should go for a ride, so Patrick Doolan was called to saddle the captain's pony. Doolan had never saddled a pony in his life before, and he put the saddle on with the pommel to the tail and the crupper to the front, and brought the pony thus accoutred to the captain's hut. Every one commenced to laugh, and Burroughs, getting into a white heat, turned on Patrick, saying, "You fool, you have put the saddle on with the back to the front!" Patrick at once saluted, and, without the least hesitation, replied, "Shure, sir, you never told me whether you were to ride to Balaclava or the front." Burroughs was so tickled with the ready wit of the reply that from that day he took Doolan into his service as soldier-servant, taught him his work, and retained him till March, 1858, when Burroughs had to go on sick leave on account of wounds. Burroughs was one of the last men wounded in the taking of Lucknow. Some days after the Begum's Kothee was stormed, he and his company were sent to drive a lot of rebels out of a house near the Kaiserbâgh, and, as usual, Burroughs was well in advance of his men. Just as they were entering the place the enemy fired a mine, and the captain was sent about a hundred feet in the air; but being like a cat (in the matter of being difficult to kill, I mean), he fell on his feet on the roof of a thatched hut, and escaped, with his life indeed, but with one of his legs broken in two places below the knee. It was only the skill of our good doctor Munro that saved his leg; but he was sent to England on sick leave, and before he returned I had left the regiment and joined the Commissariat Department. This ends my reminiscences of Captain Burroughs. May he long enjoy the rank he has attained in the peace of his island home in Orkney! Notwithstanding his peculiarities, he was a brave and plucky soldier and a most kind-hearted gentleman.
By the end of March the Ninety-Third returned to camp at the Dilkooshá, glad to get out of the city, where we were suffocated by the stench of rotting corpses, and almost devoured with flies by day and mosquitoes by night. The weather was now very hot and altogether uncomfortable, more especially since we were without any means of bathing and could obtain no regular changes of clothing.
By this time numbers of the townspeople had returned to the city and were putting their houses in order, while thousands of coolies and low-caste natives were employed clearing dead bodies out of houses and hidden corners, and generally cleaning up the city.
When we repassed the scene of our hard-contested struggle, the Begum's palace,—which, I may here remark, was actually a much stronger position than the famous Redan at Sebastopol,—we found the inner ditch, that had given us so much trouble to get across, converted into a vast grave, in which the dead had been collected in thousands and then covered by the earth which the enemy had piled up as ramparts. All round Lucknow for miles the country was covered with dead carcases of every kind,—human beings, horses, camels, bullocks, and donkeys,—and for miles the atmosphere was tainted and the swarms of flies were horrible, a positive torment and a nuisance. The only comfort was that they roosted at night; but at meal-times they were indescribable, and it was impossible to keep them out of our food; our plates of rice would be perfectly black with flies, and it was surprising how we kept such good health, for we had little or no sickness during the siege of Lucknow.
During the few days we remained in camp at the Dilkooshá the army was broken up into movable columns, to take the field after the different parties of rebels and to restore order throughout Oude; for although Lucknow had fallen, the rebellion was not by any means over; the whole of Oude was still against us, and had to be reconquered. The Forty-Second, Seventy-Ninth, and Ninety-Third (the regiments which composed the famous old Highland Brigade of the Crimea) were once more formed into one brigade, and with a regiment of Punjâb Infantry and a strong force of engineers, the Ninth Lancers, a regiment of native cavalry, a strong force of artillery, both light and heavy,—in brief, as fine a little army as ever took the field, under the command of General Walpole, with Adrian Hope as brigadier,—was detailed for the advance into Rohilcund for the recapture of Bareilly, where a large army still held together under Khân Bahâdoor Khân. Every one in the camp expressed surprise that Sir Colin should entrust his favourite Highlanders to Walpole.
On the morning of the 7th of April, 1858, the time had at last arrived when we were to leave Lucknow, and the change was hailed by us with delight. We were glad to get away from the captured city, with its horrible smells and still more horrible sights, and looked forward with positive pleasure to a hot-weather campaign in Rohilcund. We were to advance on Bareilly by a route parallel with the course of the Ganges, so striking our tents at 2 A.M. we marched through the city along the right bank of the Goomtee, past the Moosabâgh, where our first halt was made, about five miles out of Lucknow, in the midst of fresh fields, away from all the offensive odours and the myriads of flies. One instance will suffice to give my readers some idea of the torment we suffered from these pests. When we struck tents all the flies were roosting in the roofs; when the tents were rolled up the flies got crushed and killed by bushels, and no one who has not seen such a sight would credit the state of the inside of our tents when opened out to be repitched on the new ground. After the tents were pitched and the roofs swept down, the sweepers of each company were called to collect the dead flies and carry them out of the camp. I noted down the quantity of flies carried out of my own tent. The ordinary kitchen-baskets served out to the regimental cooks by the commissariat for carrying bread, rice, etc., will hold about an imperial bushel, and from one tent there were carried out five basketfuls of dead flies. The sight gave one a practical idea of one of the ten plagues of Egypt! Being now rid of the flies we could lie down during the heat of the day, and have a sleep without being tormented.
The defeated army of Lucknow had flocked into Rohilcund, and a large force was reported to be collected in Bareilly under Khân Bahâdoor Khân and Prince Feroze Shâh. The following is a copy of one of Khân Bahâdoor Khân's proclamations for the harassment of our advance: "Do not attempt to meet the regular columns of the infidels, because they are superior to you in discipline and have more guns; but watch their movements; guard all the ghâts on the rivers, intercept their communications; stop their supplies; cut up their piquets and dâks; keep constantly hanging about their camps; give them no rest!" These were, no doubt, the correct tactics; it was the old Mahratta policy revived. However, nothing came of it, and our advance was unopposed till we reached the jungle fort of Nirput Singh, the Rajpoot chief of Rooyah, near the village of Rhodamow. I remember the morning well. I was in the advance-guard under command of a young officer who had just come out from home as a cadet in the H.E.I. Company's service, and there being no Company's regiments for him, he was attached to the Ninety-Third before we left Lucknow. His name was Wace, a tall young lad of, I suppose, sixteen or seventeen years of age. I don't remember him before that morning, but he was most anxious for a fight, and I recollect that before we marched off our camping-ground, Brigadier Hope called up young Mr. Wace, and gave him instructions about moving along with great caution with about a dozen picked men for the leading section of the advance-guard.
We advanced without opposition till sunrise, and then we came in sight of an outpost of the enemy about three miles from the fort; but as soon as they saw us they retired, and word was passed back to the column. Shortly afterwards instructions came for the advance-guard to wait for the main column, and I remember young Mr. Wace going up to the brigadier, and asking to be permitted to lead the assault on the fort, should it come to a fight. At this time a summons to surrender had been sent to the Râja, but he vouchsafed no reply, and, as we advanced, a 9-pounder shot was fired at the head of the column, killing a drummer of the Forty-Second. The attack on the fort then commenced, without any attempt being made to reconnoitre the position, and ended in a most severe loss, Brigadier Hope being among the killed. Lieutenant Willoughby, who commanded the Sikhs,—a brother of the officer who blew up the powder-magazine at Delhi, rather than let it fall into the hands of the enemy,—was also killed; as were Lieutenants Douglas and Bramley of the Forty-Second, with nearly one hundred men, Highlanders and Sikhs. Hope was shot from a high tree inside the fort, and, at the time, it was believed that the man who shot him was a European.[43] After we retired from the fort the excitement was so great among the men of the Forty-Second and Ninety-Third, owing to the sacrifice of so many officers and men through sheer mismanagement, that if the officers had given the men the least encouragement, I am convinced they would have turned out in a body and hanged General Walpole. The officers who were killed were all most popular men; but the great loss sustained by the death of Adrian Hope positively excited the men to fury. So heated was the feeling on the night the dead were buried, that if any non-commissioned officer had dared to take the lead, the life of General Walpole would not have been worth half an hour's purchase.
After the force retired,—for we actually retired!—from Rooyah on the evening of the 15th of April, we encamped about two miles from the place, and a number of our dead were left in the ditch, mostly Forty-Second and Sikhs; and, so far as I am aware, no attempt was made to invest the fort or to keep the enemy in. They took advantage of this to retreat during the night; but this they did leisurely, burning their own dead, and stripping and mutilating those of our force that were abandoned in the ditch. It was reported in the camp that Colonel Haggard of the Ninth Lancers, commanding the cavalry brigade, had proposed to invest the place, but was not allowed to do so by General Walpole, who was said to have acted in such a pig-headed manner that the officers considered him insane. Rumour added that when Colonel Haggard and a squadron of the Lancers went to reconnoitre the place on the morning of the 16th, it was found empty; and that when Colonel Haggard sent an aide-de-camp to report this fact to the general, he had replied, "Thank God!" appearing glad that Râja Nirput Singh and his force had slipped through his fingers after beating back the best-equipped movable column in India. These reports gaining currency in the camp made the general still more unpopular, because, in addition to his incapability as an officer, the men put him down as a coward.