The Skull of Alum Bheg

by Kim A. Wagner

  The British artillery and infantry bore the brunt of the ferocious charge of the sowars. According to Wilberforce, the soldiers of the 52nd had barely had time to get into formation to receive the charge:

  ‘On the right the cavalry were received in squares of companies; they rode round and round, firing their pistols point blank at us; at length they had had enough and retired. In doing so, one cavalry trooper seized an artilleryman by his shoulder-belt and was riding away with him, when they crossed the path of fire of one of the nine-pounders; at that instant the charge of grape was fired, it struck the three of them at a distance of some fifteen yards, blowing the horse, the rider and the captive literally to pieces.’29

  Nicholson and his devoted bodyguard of Pashtun horsemen were positioned right behind the artillery, and as the rebel attack seemed to flounder, they decided to join in the combat. Wilberforce described the scene that played out right in front of him and his men:

  ‘we saw two of the body-guard come out on our right and apparently challenge two of the Bengal Cavalry to single combat; anyway, the challenge was accepted, and the four rode at each other, the Pathans on their ponies, their tulwars waving in circles round their heads, their loose garment flowing; the Bengalees sat erect on their big horses, their swords held ready to deliver the “point,” a stroke no irregular cavalry man comprehends, as he does not in his sword exercise learn to parry and thrust. For a moment all eyes were on the four combatants: the thrust was delivered, but instead of piercing the bodies of the Pathans it passed over them, for they threw themselves back on their ponies, their heads on the crupper, their feet by the ponies’ ears, and in that position swept off the heads of the Bengal Cavalry men; instantly the ponies wheeled round, the men straightened themselves in their saddles, and they passed away from our vision. Then Nicholson came into view; he too was going to kill his man. The scene was a brief one, the mutineer thrust at the great swordsman, who parried the thrust, and with apparently the same motion clove his assailant’s head in two; he also passed away from our sight.’30

  At the time of the battle, the British attributed the sheer frenzy of the assault to the rebels’ alleged consumption of bhang, a common intoxicant based on the cannabis sativa plant. One officer at Trimmu Ghat claimed that ‘they were all “bang-ed,” or they would never have done so much,’31 while another dramatically described how the sowars were ‘gnashing their teeth, and worked up to the utmost with intoxicating drugs.’32 Along with other cannabis-derived drugs, such as ganja or charas, bhang was the sepoy’s favoured poison of choice. It was often used to muster a sort of ‘Dutch courage,’ much as British soldiers did with rum; it also reduced hunger and numbed pain.33 The British found it very convenient to explain the bravery of Indian troops, who were supposed to be racially inferior to Europeans, by their use of drugs. As had been the case with Mangal Pandey’s one-man mutiny at Barrackpore earlier that year, the use of drugs delegitimised the sepoys’ resistance to colonial rule. It is indeed unlikely that Alum Bheg and the rest of the Sialkot mutineers were all on drugs during what became known as the Battle of Trimmu Ghat. The truth was that they were fighting for their lives, and really had nothing to lose. They could not turn back and risk running into the forces they knew had disarmed their friends at Jhelum, and so the only way was forward. Very few of the approximately 200 sowars of the left wing of the 9th BLC, who had mutinied at Sialkot, survived their desperate charge on the Movable Column. According to Bourchier, who commanded the artillery, ‘not a trooper of the 9th Cavalry who charged the guns left the batteries alive.’34

  Wilberforce and his men soon had other things to worry about, as the Indian infantry, including Alum Bheg with the 46th, advanced and closed in on the British lines: ‘In the smoke and noise it was impossible to see what was going on on our left, but soon an urgent message reached us, our square opened out, and with fixed bayonets we charged down on the left.’35 Despite the heavy fire, the sepoys had managed to reach the British formation, driving part of it back. Wilberforce and his men then charged headlong into the turmoil of the close-quarter fighting:

  ‘I saw one Sepoy pierced through with a bayonet, and borne to the ground, the bayonet going into the ground and twisting so that it could not be withdrawn. One of our men, an Irishman, who was also a spectator of this incident, immediately took off his bayonet, and, putting it in the ground, went on with his butt, which he flourished to some purpose, one swing of it felling no less than three of his opponents. The Sepoys were forced backward, and breaking, fled to the river in confusion, leaving, however, many dead and wounded in their flight.’36

  The deadly and effective fire kept up by the British had taken its toll on the Sialkot mutineers, and, as a British artillery officer put it: ‘In about twenty minutes the fire of the enemy was subdued; in ten minutes more they were in full retreat towards the river, leaving between three or four hundred killed and wounded on the field.’37 The companies of the 46th who had led the charge, were entirely wiped out as one British officer described: ‘so desperate were the fellows that they were all killed within 15 yards of our line. The left subdivision behaved equally well, and were all killed in covering the retreat of their main body.’38

  The British noted several instances of bravery amongst the sepoys, and an officer of the 52nd described how ‘some of them behaved very pluckily. We saw one fellow about one hundred yards from the guns, all around him having been killed, loading and firing all by himself, till he was knocked over.’39 Alum Bheg and the Sialkot mutineers had been fatally outgunned from the outset and no amount of valour could change that. Once their ranks had been decimated and their charge repulsed, the discipline and cohesion with which they had begun the day gave way to sheer panic, turning their retreat into a rout. The Punjab levies with the Movable Column had fled the battlefield almost as soon as the firing began, so Nicholson had no cavalry with which to follow up the victory. This allowed many of the surviving sepoys to recross the river and get back to the island. The rebels still had the old signal gun which at a distance of some 1100 yards kept the British at bay as they advanced right up the river bank. Any plans that Nicholson may have had to attempt a crossing of the river that evening in order to inflict a decisive defeat were soon abandoned.40 Following the forced march and the exhaustion of the fight, the Movable Column could barely follow up their victory, but they eagerly took possession of the loot left by the fleeing rebels:

  ‘Had the General but possessed a squadron or two of Cavalry, not a man could have escaped. The Sikhs, less done up by the sun than the Europeans, advanced, gallantly led by Lieutenant Boswell. The horses were nearly as much done up as the men, and could hardly get up a canter to the river bank; where we took possession of all the baggage and stores crossed over by the enemy, consisting chiefly of arms, ammunition, and clothing, the property of Government; and carriages, furniture, and property belonging to the officers at Sealkote.’41

  Many of the officers of the 52nd searched in vain for their own possessions, which they had left behind at Sialkot when they left the station in May. One of them noted how ‘it was curious to see the motley collection of articles the rascals had brought with them in the way of plunder. After murdering the Brigadier and several of the Europeans, and burning down the station, they had taken everything from a knife and fork up to carriages and buggies.’42 The rebels had indeed plundered everything they could lay their hands on; inside one of the carriages, a British officer found ‘a bottle of eau-de-cologne and a Bible, and an unfinished overland letter’.43

  For Alum Bheg and the other rebels the defeat was truly disastrous. Wet and bedraggled, the survivors of the first day of the battle had made it onto dry land on the island in the middle of the river. They were safe for the time being, but they had lost half of their force, in addition to most of their loot and equipment. Many had also thrown away their uniform and muskets as they fled.44 Their wounded comrades were left where they fell, and those who made it down to the banks ‘were swept away
in trying to recross the river, which at the ford was more than breast-high, and was rising every minute.’45 Those who did not drown fell into the hands of the British forces and were unceremoniously executed. ‘Short thrift awaited all captures,’ a British account noted: ‘The motto of General Nicholson for mutineers was “a la lanterne.” [“String them up”].’46 According to one newspaper, ‘The prisoners were not, in the General’s opinion, even worthy of a rope, but were simply turned loose amongst the Sikhs, who very soon cut them to pieces.’47 Compared to the veritable slaughter of the sepoys, the British losses on 12 July were negligible: the 52nd had just five rank-and-file killed, with two officers and an additional sixteen wounded; the artillery and Punjabi infantry had about the same number of casualties.48 Besides the losses sustained during the actual fighting, however, should be added those caused by heatstroke; the 52nd lost twenty men due to the heat, six of whom died.49 The two opposing forces had been almost evenly matched in terms of numbers, but the disparity in casualties reflected the lopsidedness in their armament.

  Unfortunately for Alum Bheg and his comrades, their situation was only getting worse: rain and melting snow from the Himalayas caused the Ravi to rise considerably during the interval of just a single day. With a schadenfreude typical of the British of the time, Cave-Browne described the precarious situation of the rebels stranded on the island:

  ‘Here, however, they found themselves in a dilemma they had little anticipated. The bank or strip of land by means of which they had crossed, and where they had been driven back, divides the river into two channels—the southern one a deep and strong current, the other at times little more than a marsh, and almost always fordable; but when the water rises (and it was now rising rapidly from the melted snow), this channel becomes flooded to such a depth as to be quite impassable. Thus it happened that the water which the rebels were able to wade through with some little difficulty on the 11th, was utterly unfordable two days after. The bank of land had now become an island. Here, with the dreaded Nicholson in front, the fear of a pursuing force from Jhelum in their rear, and the whole country around eager to catch and fleece them, they were in noenviable position. If, by chance, some clever student of one of the Government colleges, where mental culture is the summum bonum, and Christianity has no place, happened to be among them, he might have recalled to mind, and have translated into choice Oordoo [Urdu], to his blood-stained companions, as aptly illustrating their own position, the reflection of that prince of traitors and murderers, Macbeth,

  – “there is nor flying hence, nor tarrying here.”’50

  With nowhere to run, the rebels decided to make the most of their position and built a defensive breastwork behind which they could use the cannon. Having dug themselves in, all they could do was wait and watch anxiously across the river and the ‘wide desolate plain deserted by everything except the gorging vultures and the howling jackals.’51

  After the battle, Nicholson marched his force back to camp outside Gurdaspur, where they enjoyed a much-needed rest; although the British casualties had been comparatively small, they lost as many men to the heat as they did in actual combat.52 During the next two days, as the men of the Movable Column rested and regained their strength, Nicholson’s Pashtuns and Punjabi mounted levies scoured the countryside for fugitives. Wilberforce recalled how the prisoners brought in were ‘paraded in a line in the evening, and then Nicholson would walk down the line. Every now and then he pointed to a man, who was immediately taken out. Those pointed at were Sepoys, and ordered for instant execution; the remainder, mere country people, were let go.’53 Such summary justice was commonplace during the uprising, and yet not everyone approved of Nicholson’s ruthlessness. Lieutenant Ommaney of the artillery wrote in his diary:

  ‘A man of the 2nd Irregulars who showed the Sialkot Mutineers the ford, had his 2 hands cut off, a bayonet run through his body and then hung; batches of prisoners with their hands tied are taken out into the jungle and the Sikhs let at them. Such cruelties must tell against us in the long run, and because these men have done the same to us…is no reason that we should emulate them. Kill them by all means by hanging and shooting the really guilty [but the innocent should be spared].’54

  In the evening of the 15th, Wilberforce and the of the 52nd marched down to the river once more, passing the scene of the heavy fighting two days earlier: ‘Clouds of vultures rose from or hopped about on the ground; they had been satiating themselves with the dead Sepoys and with dead horses; the stench as we marched across the scene of the encounter was horrible.’55 They encamped near the river bank, and early next morning, while it was still dark, they silently crossed over to the island a mile further south, where they were out of sight and out of range, of the rebels and their entrenched gun. To distract the rebels, the British artillery shelled the earthwork and few huts that made up the only habitable spot in the dense forest of the island. Wilberforce’s company took the lead of the small assault force, which also consisted of some Punjabis, and slowly advanced in skirmishing order through tall grass that provided complete cover. Once they got closer to the sepoys’ position, however, they came into the open, and soon came under fire after being spotted. Nevertheless, the strategy had worked and the rebels were caught off guard. As one British artillery put it: ‘At last the true state of things glimmered on their understandings, “their stronghold was invaded”.’56

  The rebels, whose attention had been diverted towards the mainland, were frantically trying to turn the old gun around to face the attackers. With shots whizzing over his head, Wilberforce found himself advancing towards the earthworks, while Nicholson rode next to him and regaled him with a story about how he had once killed a tiger with his sword on horseback. The final moments of the attack were dramatic, as Wilberforce recalled:

  ‘When about 200 yards distant from the gun they fired grape at us; we closed on our centre, leaving a gap for the fire of the gun, charged, and in a few moments took the gun. A revolver given me by my father saved my life, for being a fast runner, and from my position in front having a start, I was over the bank on the left just before my Captain jumped in on the right, and was brought up by a huge horse-pistol held to my forehead. I fired instantly, not aiming, and the bullet went through my assailant’s heart, the discharge of his pistol blowing off my solar topee. All the Sepoys but one in charge of that gun died at their post; the one who ran away was pursued by Nicholson, who overtook him, and rising in his stirrups dealt him such a mighty blow that he actually severed the man in two!’57

  The man cut down by Nicholson was the old khansamah, or cook, of Brigadier Brind, who allegedly unloaded his master’s revolver at Sialkot, and who had been working the cannon expertly throughout the engagement.58 The crew kept firing right up until the last moment, when they were overrun by the British force and ‘were in such a hurry, that the man who was ramming down the charge was blown to pieces.’59 The presence of the twelve-o’clock signal gun at Trimmu Ghat was something of a historical coincidence: it had originally been used by the Sikhs at the Battle of Gujrat in 1849 near the end of the Second Anglo-Sikh War—a battle at which the 46th BNI, and possibly even Alum Bheg, fought for the British.60 Now, in 1857, the very same gun was used by the remnants of the 46th BNI against the British, who were now supported by Sikh troops. The elevation screw on the old gun was described as ‘an old Sikh affair’, which the sepoys had been unable to operate efficiently, meaning that all their shots went high during the final attack.61

  Once the earthworks and gun had been taken, the rest of the island was soon cleared of its temporary occupants. As one officer of the 52nd described it:

  ‘It was now helter-skelter; they ran to the head of the island, were followed up by our fellows, and took to the water; many of them must have been drowned; numbers were like mud-larks on sandbanks and small islands; and how poor Pandy is to get out of it I do not know. There is deep water on the other side, and the villagers are up; there are only two or three places on this si
de where they can cross; these are all watched…’62

  The sepoys were, of course, ‘Hindustanis’ and as strangers in the land they could not rely on the support of the local population, even if they managed to escape the British bayonets. After the island was cleared, the junior officers of the 52nd went over the ground where the rebels had been encamped while they were stranded and a curious incident occurred:

  ‘a lot of us youngsters saw a small house, one of the few dwelling-places situated on the island, and to it we repaired to see what was inside. There was nothing visible, the one room of the little house was empty; the room had a plank ceiling, and while we were standing about talking some one heard or thought he heard a noise above the planks. Placing therefore his revolver in a crack of the planks he fired, and on search discovered he had killed a Sepoy, who had selected that place for his refuge, and would doubtless have escaped had not nature compelled him to reveal himself.’63