The Cannons of Lucknow, page 19
Alex greeted both of them by name the following morning; by evening, as his temperature sank, he was able to raise his head from the pillow and hold a glass for himself. He improved steadily after that but, although his mind was now clear, physically he was as weak as a child and Dr. Irvine, calling to ascertain how he was progressing, found him making his first shaky attempt to walk and ordered him sternly to return to his bed.
“You’ve made a remarkable recovery, Colonel Sheridan,” he said. “But it’s taken more out of you than you realise. We must concentrate on building up your strength. If you’ll take my advice, you’ll stay where you are for at least another week—then we can think about getting you on your feet again.”
Alex, perforce, obeyed these instructions, but the days of inactivity began increasingly to irk him and Lousada Barrow, sensing the reason underlying his impatience, told him consolingly that he was missing little of importance.
“You chose a good time to be ill, my dear Alex. Lucknow continues to hold out, thank God, and although we’re making preparations, no reinforcements have yet reached us, nor has Sir James Outram. There can be no advance into Oudh until both arrive … but he and the new Commander-in-Chief, Sir Colin Campbell, are not letting the grass grow under their feet. General Outram is already on his way to Benares, old Lloyd has been relieved of the Dinapore command, and both the Dinapore Queen’s regiments are to be sent to us, almost certainly by mid-September. Also Major Eyre’s battery and some loyal native cavalry—40 of them, I’m told, under General Havelock’s nephew.”
“Sir James Outram—Sir Colin Campbell?” Alex stared at him, mystified. “I thought Outram was in Persia and Sir Colin, surely, is retired and in England?”
Patiently, Barrow explained the circumstances which had dictated both appointments. “Sir Colin Campbell has come overland—he reached Calcutta last week. You should be pleased … damn it, he was one of your best Crimean generals, wasn’t he? And you know his reputation here.”
“I’m more than pleased, Lou,” Alex assured him. “But General Outram’s appointment to a combined Division is less easy to understand. If he commands Cawnpore as well as Dinapore, what of General Havelock? Surely he’s not being relieved, is he?”
Again Barrow explained, and added, smiling, “Harry Havelock showed me the telegraph his father received from General Outram this evening. I can’t quote it verbatim, but he told Havelock that he was expecting both the 5th Fusiliers and the 90th to reach Benares sometime today and that he intended to push on with them to Allahabad. Then he stated that he would leave ‘the honour of relieving Lucknow’ to General Havelock and would accompany him in his Civil capacity as Commissioner, serving under him as a volunteer. The dear Old Gentleman was moved to tears, Harry said … not that he doesn’t deserve it. But Outram is making a considerable sacrifice, you know he’s not a rich man and, if Lucknow is relieved, and the twenty-three lacs of rupees in the Treasury are saved, the general in actual command of the relieving force stands to gain a fortune in prize money. Apart from that, if Outram were commanding, he could expect a baronetcy, since he’s already a K.C.B. But as a civilian volunteer, he’ll get little or nothing. Less, even”—Lousada Barrow gave vent to his booming laugh—” than I shall!”
Alex listened in astonishment. He knew General Outram by repute and had met him once at a dinner in Lucknow, when—newly promoted—he had been British Resident in Oudh. He remembered the general as a small, black-bearded man, with a deceptively hesitant manner and an addiction to Manilla cheroots, which he had puffed at continuously throughout the evening. As a young captain, he had served with distinction on Sir John Keane’s staff in the Afghan war and, after reaching Cabul with Pollock’s avenging army, had then served under Sir Charles Napier in the Scinde campaign. Napier, who was not given to paying fulsome compliments to junior officers, had called him “the Bayard of India”—chevalier sans peur et sans reproche—a title which had stuck to him ever since. Although senior to Havelock, whose lack of money and influence had retarded his promotion, Outram was eight or nine years younger, but they had, Alex recalled, served together in the recent Persian campaign and were said to be close friends.
“Who was it that first called him the Bayard of India, Alex?” Barrow asked, as if reading his thoughts. “Sir Charles Napier, wasn’t it, at a farewell dinner at Sakhar, when Outram was leaving his command?”
Alex nodded. “Yes, if my memory serves me aright, it was. He seems to be living up to it, does he not? How many people in his position would make such an extraordinarily chivalrous gesture to a subordinate? I’m not surprised that our little general was moved to tears by that message.”
“No, nor am I. Indeed, I …” Barrow broke off, as old Mohammed Bux came in with a bottle of champagne and glasses on a tray. “What’s this, Bearer—more of General Neill Sahib’s bubble-pani?”
“Neill’s bubble-pani, Lou!” Alex exclaimed. “Don’t tell me that General Neill sent this?”
“Not only this, my dear Alex, but most of the other bottles we’ve spooned into you to aid your recovery.” Lousada Barrow poured out two brimming glasses and offered one to his patient with an amused grin. “You’ve had numerous visitors and a great many gifts and enquiries concerning your health. Neill came in person one evening while you were still semiconscious, to advise champagne as the best cure for you. And your two fellow-survivors, Thomson and Delafosse, came several times. So did Charlie Palliser and Willie Hargood, on behalf of the Chief. Well …” he raised his glass. “Here’s to your very good health, Alex, my friend—may your shadow never grow less!”
Alex thanked him warmly as he drank the toast. “If it hadn’t been for you, I doubt if I should have remained a survivor, Lou. I owe you more than I can ever repay and—”
“Nonsense, my dear fellow!” Barrow brushed his thanks aside. “In the words of General Havelock, when the men cheered him after Bithur—‘Don’t cheer me, my men, you did it all yourselves!’ And talking of men, Alex, the lads you trained have besieged me with enquiries about you. One in particular—your ex-whipperin from Tipperary, Cullmane—asked me to tell you that he’d vowed on his mother’s grave not to touch a drop of liquor until your return to the troop.”
“Then I’d better delay my return, if it’ll make a reformed character out of Cullmane,” Alex said, laughing.
“Don’t do that, “Barrow besought him, in mock dismay. “We need you—there are another batch of volunteers from the infantry to be licked into shape and none of us has your touch.”
“Square it with the surgeon and I’ll report for duty tomorrow, Lou.”
Barrow shook his head. “You’ll take whatever time Dr. Irvine says you need, Alex. That’s an order and be damned to that brevet of yours!” He rose, setting down his glass. “I must go. We’re mounting a reconnaissance in the Calpi direction at first light tomorrow —the usual scare about the blasted Gwalior Contingent, who appear to be mercifully inactive—but the general wants a report, so I must select who’s to go on it.” He stumped out, shoulders wearily bowed, and Alex cursed his own weakness. But his recovery continued and three days later Dr. Irvine permitted him to return to light duties in camp. By 10th September, he was once again training the last batch of recruits for Barrow’s Volunteers, and the whole Force was cheered by the news that General Outram expected to reach Cawnpore on the 15th, with reinforcements numbering nearly 1,300 men, in addition to Major Eyre’s battery and two howitzers.
On the 12th, the engineers started to prepare the pontoons and boats required to repair the bridge across the Ganges, and at dusk on Tuesday, 15th September, General Outram marched in at the head of his column, having decisively defeated a rebel force which had attempted to dispute his passage from Allahabad.
The following morning, he issued his first Divisional Order to the Cawnpore column, which began:
The important duty of relieving the garrison of Lucknow had at first been entrusted to Brigadier-General Havelock, C.B., and Major-General Outram feels that it is due to this distinguished officer, and to the strenuous and noble efforts which he has already made to effect that object, that to him should accrue the honour of the achievement.
Major-General Outram is confident that the great end for which General Havelock and his brave troops have so long and so gloriously fought will now, under the blessing of Providence, be accomplished.
The Major-General, therefore, in gratitude for and admiration of the brilliant deeds of arms achieved by General Havelock, will cheerfully waive his rank on the occasion and will accompany the force to Lucknow in his Civil capacity —as Chief Commissioner of Oudh—tendering his military services to General Havelock as a volunteer.
Havelock’s reply ran:
Brigadier-General Havelock, in making known to the column the kind and generous determination of Major-General Sir James Outram, K.C.B., to leave to it the task of relieving Lucknow and of rescuing its gallant and enduring garrison, has only to express his hope that the troops will strive, by their exemplary and gallant conduct in the field, to justify the confidence thus reposed in them.
The men cheered their little general when they read these Orders. Awaiting them, on the Oudh side of the river, were an estimated force of 7,000 rebel foot, 1,000 cavalry, and 18 guns. The British column, consisting of 2,300 Queen’s infantry and 250 Sikhs, with 80 Volunteer Cavalry, two 9-pounder batteries, one heavy battery of four 24-pounders, and two howitzers, began to cross the river on the 19th. By dusk on the 20th, Major Eyre’s heavy guns, which had covered the crossing, and the rear guard passed over the bridge of boats into Oudh, and General Havelock with his son Harry left the bungalow on the riverbank—once owned by a Prince of Oudh—which they had occupied since August, to join the column. In the entrenchment, 300 men were left to hold Cawnpore, under Colonel Wilson of the Queen’s 64th; Brigadier-General James Neill commanded one wing of the Lucknow relief column and Colonel Hamilton of the 78th the other, whilst Sir James Outram, mounted on a mottled roan horse, joined the ranks of the Volunteer Cavalry.
At daybreak on 21st September, in a deluge of rain, Havelock gave the order to advance once more on Lucknow.
CHAPTER SEVEN
DURING THE RIVER CROSSING, the rebels had attempted, with skirmishers and some horsed 9-pounder guns, to impede the British column, but the attacks had not been pressed home and a few rounds from Francis Maude’s well-trained gunners served effectively to discourage them. They retired to General Havelock’s old camping ground at Mungalwar where, some seven to eight thousand strong, they waited for the expected attack, firing on the Volunteer Cavalry when they rode forward to reconnoitre.
At first light on 21st September, when Alex and Lousada Barrow went with Colonel Tytler and General Outram’s Chief of Staff, Colonel Napier, to report on their position, they came under so heavy a fire from sepoys and matchlock men, concealed in the breast-high corn bordering the road, that they had themselves to take cover until their assailants were dispersed. Trotting forward again, they saw that the enemy had positioned infantry to defend the fortified mud huts of the village and a newly constructed walled enclosure to the left of the road. To the right, a line of breastworks had also been built, behind which six guns were sited to cover the road—one of them a 24-pounder, mounted to the rear of a separate stockade of interlaced brushwood and timber, which was lined with sepoy musketeers.
As the British column advanced in drizzling rain to the attack, with Major Eyre’s heavy battery in the centre, covered by the 5th Fusiliers in skirmishing order, the rebel guns opened an accurate fire. A round-shot wounded one of the battery elephants, and the great beast turned, trumpeting in pain and fury, to charge and scatter the British gunners. The remaining elephants in the battery, sensing danger, held their ground but refused to drag the guns any further and, when all attempts to goad them on had failed, bullock teams had to be brought up to take their places.
After some delay and confusion, Vincent Eyre was able to deploy his cumbersome pieces across the road and engage the rebel front with great effect, and Havelock, after studying the position, decided to employ his favourite turning movement. He sent his main force, with Olpherts’ horsed battery, to the left, leaving the 90th Light Infantry to clear the village, which they did in dashing style, eager to show themselves the equal of the column’s veteran regiments. The Highlanders and the Blue Caps, not to be outdone, surged forward and stormed the breastworks and, as the enemy line started to waver and break, Havelock cantered over to where the Volunteer Cavalry were drawn up in two lines, with Outram and Barrow at their head.
He bowed to General Outram and said, addressing Lousada Barrow, “Be so good as to pursue the beaten enemy with your squadron, Captain Barrow!”
“With pleasure, sir,” Barrow acknowledged. It was the moment for which the Volunteers had been waiting, and they took full advantage of the opportunity to show their mettle. Led by their commandant with their Volunteer general beside him, they charged furiously into the mass of rebel infantry, wielding their sabres mercilessly. Outram, on his big Australian waler, was in his element, his gold-topped Malacca cane doing duty in place of the cavalry sabre he lacked, and the rebels’ retreat became a rout. Havelock himself rode with the second line, which Alex was leading, but his horse sustained a number of wounds, which compelled him to pull up, and he waved them on as he coaxed his limping animal from the fray.
“Close up and take cover!” Barrow yelled, as a bend in the road disclosed a body of mutineers, who had rallied under the command of a mounted subedar into a loosely-knit square. They fired a volley at over-long range; the Volunteers closed ranks and continued their charge. The sepoy riflemen did not wait to receive it but scattered without attempting to fire a second volley, diving desperately for cover in the tall-growing corn or seeking refuge in flight along the open road.
To the right, Alex saw, two 9-pounder guns mounted in a well-constructed entrenchment barred the way and, as the gunners tried frantically to bring their guns to bear on the charging cavalry, he wheeled his line to take the battery in flank. The tall Mahoney beside him, yelling like a fiend, he put his horse at the breastwork and, before the gunners could get off a shot, he and his troop were inside, cutting them down. He saw, out of the tail of his eye, that Outram was with him, using the battered and bloodstained cane like a flail and yelling as loudly as any of the rest. Some of the men had been unhorsed, and when they dashed up to enter the battery on foot, the general bade them stay with the guns.
“They’re our prizes!” he shouted and, digging spurs into his bony waler, galloped on after Barrow, whose line was spread out across a cornfield on the far side of the road, in hot pursuit of the fleeing foe. Alex was about to follow him when he noticed that shots were coming from his left. Turning to ascertain the cause, he saw that fifty yards from him, in an entrenched enclosure, a company of sepoys in regulation scarlet full dress uniforms had gathered about their Colour and, with more courage than the majority of their comrades had shown, were firing into the advancing ranks of the 5th Fusiliers as they emerged, in extended order, on the far side of the village.
Mahoney shouted something he could not catch, and the next moment he was making for the enclosure, intent, it seemed, on taking it single-handedly. Rallying his troop, Alex cantered after him, delayed by the necessity to form them into line, and then watched, in astonished admiration, as the tall young sergeant, bearing a charmed life, leapt his horse over the breastwork of the enclosure and fought his way through the scarlet-clad defenders. The next moment, he had seized the Colour and was bearing it away in triumph, its gilt-embroidered folds draped over his horse’s quarters.
With the loss of their Colour, the sepoys’ resistance petered out. A few spasmodic shots were fired at the approaching horsemen, but when they reached the enclosure, the mutineers did not contest it with them. They ran from behind their breastwork as Mahoney rejoined the troop with his trophy, his horse bleeding from several bayonet wounds but he himself grinning broadly and miraculously unscathed. Leaving the scattered sepoys to be rounded up by the Fusiliers, Alex shouted a breathless “Well done!” to his sergeant and, observing that Lousada Barrow had returned to the road to rally and reform his command, led his troop back to join them.
After a brief halt to deal with casualties and rest their blown horses, the Volunteer Cavalry resumed the pursuit, augmented by the sixty Irregulars commanded by Captain Johnson and Lieutenant Charles Havelock. They tore past the village of Unao—now a deserted cluster of blackened, burned-out huts—through the narrow passageway, and out onto the Busseratgunj road, to see the bulk of the fleeing enemy streaming along it toward the town. Hitherto, although defeated by Havelock’s small column, they had never suffered pursuit in any previous engagement, and now, following their usual practice, they were endeavouring to take out their guns and ammunition, with the evident intention of making a stand when they gained the walled defences of the town. Outram and Barrow allowed them no time and showed them no mercy and, as the British cavalry fell on their rear, sabring them down, the ammunition tumbrils were abandoned or upended into the swamp. A third gun was captured, intact and with its gun-cattle, when Lousada Barrow led a spirited attack on the gunners, whose escorting infantry made a panic-stricken bid for escape, leaving the golandazes to their fate.
Only when Busseratgunj was as empty of rebel troops as Unao had been did Barrow regretfully call a halt to permit the infantry to catch up with them. Their casualties had been amazingly light—ten wounded but still mounted and six men missing. The mutineers’, by contrast, were estimated at approaching 200, the majority of these killed; but the horses of both Volunteer and Irregular squadrons were quite done up and the men in little better state. Thankful for the respite, they dismounted and flung themselves onto the damp ground; only Cullmane and two or three others of his troop, Alex noticed, loosened their girths and rubbed their sweating animals down before taking their own ease. But they were all happy, and when General Havelock rode up on a fresh horse, accompanied by James Neill, to congratulate them on their achievement, both officers and men cheered him enthusiastically. Mahoney, very red of face at being singled out, was brought up by Neill and invited to display the Colour he had taken. On this being identified as having belonged to one of the original Cawnpore regiments, the 1st Bengal Native Infantry, Havelock shook him warmly by the hand and Outram, his dark, bearded face wreathed in smiles, took half a dozen of his Manilla cheroots from his pocket and presented them to the delighted sergeant.
