CHAPTER XV
BATTLE OF BAREILLY—GHÂZIS—A TERRIBLE ACCIDENT—HALT AT BAREILLY—ACTIONS OF POSGAON, RUSSOOLPORE, AND NOWRUNGABAD—REST AT LAST!
The heat was now very oppressive, and we had many men struck down by the sun every day. We reached Shâhjehânpore on the 30th of April, and found that every building in the cantonments fit for sheltering European troops had been destroyed by order of the Nânâ Sâhib, who, however, did not himself wait for our arrival. Strange to say, the bridge of boats across the Râmgunga was not destroyed, and some of the buildings in the jail, and the wall round it, were still standing. Colonel Hale and a wing of the Eighty-Second were left here with some guns, to make the best of their position in the jail, which partly dominated the city. The Shâhjehânpore distillery was mostly destroyed, but the native distillers had been working it, and there was a large quantity of rum still in the vats, which was found to be good and was consequently annexed by the commissariat.
On the 2nd of May we left Shâhjehânpore en route for Bareilly, and on the next day reached Futtehgunge Every village was totally deserted, but no plundering was allowed, and any camp-followers found marauding were soon tied up by the provost-marshal's staff. Proclamations were sent everywhere for the people to remain in their villages, but without any effect. Two days later we reached Furreedpore, which we also found deserted, but with evident signs that the enemy were near; and our bazaars were full of reports of the great strength of the army of Khân Bahâdoor Khân and Feroze Shâh. The usual estimate was thirty thousand infantry, twenty-five thousand cavalry, and about three hundred guns, among which was said to be a famous black battery that had beaten the European artillery at ball-practice a few months before they mutinied at Meerut. The left wing of the Ninety-Third was thrown out, with a squadron of the Lancers and Tombs' battery, as the advance piquet. As darkness set in we could see the fires of the enemy's outposts, their patrol advancing quite close to our sentries during the night, but making no attack.
About 2 A.M. on the 5th of May, according to Sir Colin's usual plan, three days' rations were served out, and the whole force was under arms and slowly advancing before daylight. By sunrise we could see the enemy drawn up on the plain some five miles from Bareilly, in front of what had been the native lines; but as we advanced, they retired. By noon we had crossed the nullah in front of the old cantonments, and, except by sending round-shot among us at long distances, which did not do much harm, the enemy did not dispute our advance. We were halted in the middle of a bare, sandy plain, and we of the rank and file then got to understand why the enemy were apparently in some confusion; we could hear the guns of Brigadier Jones ("Jones the Avenger" as he was called) hammering at them on the other side. The Ninety-Third formed the extreme right of the front line of infantry with a squadron of the Lancers and Tombs' battery of horse-artillery. The heat was intense, and when about two o'clock a movement in the mango topes in our front caused the order to stand to our arms, it attained such a pitch that the barrels of our rifles could not be touched by our bare hands!
The Sikhs and our light company advanced in skirmishing order, when some seven to eight hundred matchlock-men opened fire on them, and all at once a most furious charge was made by a body of about three hundred and sixty Rohilla Ghâzis, who rushed out, shouting "Bismillâh! Allâh! Allâh! Deen! Deen!" Sir Colin was close by, and called out, "Ghâzis, Ghâzis! Close up the ranks! Bayonet them as they come on." However, they inclined to our left, and only a few came on to the Ninety-Third, and these were mostly bayoneted by the light company which was extended in front of the line. The main body rushed on the centre of the Forty-Second; but as soon as he saw them change their direction Sir Colin galloped on, shouting out, "Close up, Forty-Second! Bayonet them as they come on!" But that was not so easily done; the Ghâzis charged in blind fury, with their round shields on their left arms, their bodies bent low, waving their tulwârs over their heads, throwing themselves under the bayonets, and cutting at the men's legs. Colonel Cameron, of the Forty-Second, was pulled from his horse by a Ghâzi, who leaped up and seized him by the collar while he was engaged with another on the opposite side; but his life was saved by Colour-Sergeant Gardener, who seized one of the enemy's tulwârs, and rushing to the colonel's assistance cut off the Ghâzi's head. General Walpole was also pulled off his horse and received two sword-cuts, but was rescued by the bayonets of the Forty-Second. The struggle was short, but every one of the Ghâzis was killed. None attempted to escape; they had evidently come on to kill or be killed, and a hundred and thirty-three lay in one circle right in front of the colours of the Forty-Second.
The Commander-in-Chief himself saw one of the Ghâzis, who had broken through the line, lying down, shamming dead. Sir Colin caught the glance of his eye, saw through the ruse, and called to one of the Forty-Second, "Bayonet that man!" But the Ghâzi was enveloped in a thick quilted tunic of green silk, through which the blunt Enfield bayonet would not pass, and the Highlander was in danger of being cut down, when a Sikh sirdâr[46] of the Fourth Punjâbis rushed to his assistance, and took the Ghâzi's head clean off with one sweep of his keen tulwâr. These Ghâzis, with a very few exceptions, were gray-bearded men of the Rohilla race, clad in green, with green turbans and kummerbunds,[47] round shields on the left arm, and curved tulwârs that would split a hair. They only succeeded in wounding about twenty men—they threw themselves so wildly on the bayonets of the Forty-Second! One of them, an exception to the majority, was quite a youth, and having got separated from the rest challenged the whole of the line to come out and fight him. He then rushed at Mr. Joiner, the quartermaster of the Ninety-Third, firing his carbine, but missing. Mr. Joiner returned the fire with his revolver, and the Ghâzi then threw away his carbine and rushed at Joiner with his tulwâr. Some of the light company tried to take the youngster prisoner, but it was no use; he cut at every one so madly, that they had to bayonet him.
The commotion caused by this attack was barely over, when word was passed that the enemy were concentrating in front for another rush, and the order was given for the spare ammunition to be brought to the front. I was detached with about a dozen men of No. 7 company to find the ammunition-guard, and bring our ammunition in rear of the line. Just as I reached the ammunition-camels, a large force of the rebel cavalry, led by Feroze Shâh in person, swept round the flank and among the baggage, cutting down camels, camel-drivers, and camp-followers in all directions. My detachment united with the ammunition-guard and defended ourselves, shooting down a number of the enemy's sowârs. I remember the Rev. Mr. Ross, chaplain of the Forty-Second, running for his life, dodging round camels and bullocks with a rebel sowâr after him, till, seeing our detachment, he rushed to us for protection, calling out, "Ninety-Third, shoot that impertinent fellow!" Bob Johnston, of my company, shot the sowâr down. Mr. Ross had no sword nor revolver, and not even a stick with which to defend himself. Moral—When in the field, padres, carry a good revolver! About the same time as Mr. Ross gained our protection, we saw Mr. Russell, of The Times, who was ill and unable to walk from the kick of a horse, trying to escape on horseback. He had got out of his dooly, undressed and bareheaded as he was, and leaped into the saddle, as the syce had been leading his horse near him. Several of the enemy's sowârs were dodging through the camels to get at him. We turned our rifles on them, and I shot down the one nearest to Mr. Russell, just as he had cut down an intervening camel-driver and was making for "Our Special"; in fact, his tulwâr was actually lifted to swoop down on Mr. Russell's bare head when my bullet put a stop to his proceedings. I saw Mr. Russell tumble from his saddle at the same instant as the sowâr fell, and I got a rare fright, for I thought my bullet must have struck both. However, I rushed to where Mr. Russell had fallen, and I then saw from the position of the slain sowâr that my bullet had found its proper billet, and that Mr. Russell was down with sunstroke, the blood flowing freely from his nose. There was no time to lose. Our Mooltânee Irregulars were after the enemy, and I had to hasten to the line with the spare ammunition; but before I left Mr. Russell to his fate, I called some of the Forty-Second baggage-guards to put him into his dooly and take him to their doctor, while I hastened back to the line and reported the occurrence to Captain Dawson. Next morning I was glad to hear that Mr. Russell was still alive, and likely to get over his stroke.
After this charge of the rebel cavalry we were advanced; but the thunder of Jones' attack on the other side of the city evidently disconcerted the enemy, and they made off to the right of our line, while large numbers of Ghâzis concentrated themselves in the main buildings of the city. We suffered more from the sun than from the enemy; and after we advanced into the shelter of a large mango tope we were nearly eaten alive by swarms of small green insects, which invaded our bare legs in thousands, till we were glad to leave the shelter of the mango trees and take to the open plain again. As night drew on the cantonments were secured, the baggage was collected, and we bivouacked on the plain, strong piquets being thrown out. My company was posted in a small field of onions near a pucca[48] well with a Persian wheel for lifting the water. We supped off the biscuits in our haversacks, raw onions, and the cool water drawn from well, and then went off to sleep. I wish I might always sleep as soundly as I did that night after my supper of raw onions and dry biscuits!