The Disputed V.C.: A Tale of the Indian Mutiny

by Laura Elizabeth Howe Richards

  CHAPTER XXI

  "Wombwell's Menagerie"

  On his return in the early morning of the following day, Ted related hisadventures to brother and cousin, and told of his interview with thehero of the Punjab.

  "Yes," replied Jim, "Nicholson has been here inspecting our defences andexamining our men. He's left his column behind and galloped on to conferwith our general. Lucky for you, young 'un, that he happened to bepresent. But, then, you are such a lucky beggar!"

  "I wonder what they'll do to your friend the major?" observed Charlie,whose splendid constitution was doing wonders for him.

  "Ask him to resign, I expect," Jim opined.

  But that officer of the 15th Derajats had already resigned. Before heand his escort had left the Ridge a shell from one of the Mori24-pounders exploded in their midst, killing the major and one sepoy andwounding four others. Ted, however, did not learn this until thefollowing day, and at the same time he heard that Nicholson had left thecamp and ridden out to bring in his column, which was now close at hand.

  "Before I forget, here's something for you, Ted," Jim exclaimed, afterthe three had discussed the ensign's adventures at some length. "Themail came while you were away, and I had a letter from Ethel enclosingthis for you."

  Jim handed his brother a note, which Ted promptly opened and read.

  "It's very jolly of her! The colonel has nearly completely recovered,she says, and they are quite safe. Will you swop letters, Jim?"

  "Wouldn't you like to? Cheeky young cub!"

  Charlie laughed.

  "I've already offered him half my daily pay for a sight of the preciousdocument, and he's waiting for me to raise the bid. He's been looking soradiantly absurd, young 'un, since he received it, that I've beenlonging to throw my boots at him, but unfortunately I can't get atthem."

  Jim winked solemnly at his cousin, and appeared far too happy to beabashed by the satire of his facetious relatives.

  Before long news reached the Ridge that the Punjab Movable Column wascoming in. The whole camp turned out to meet Jan Nikkulseyn'sever-victorious men. Brigadier Nicholson was, of course, under GeneralSir Archdale Wilson, yet the whole army looked upon him as the mandestined to lead them to victory. All felt that a great soldier was intheir midst--nor were they disappointed. Hardly had he arrived before heled them out to attack the foe at Nujufgurh, where a splendid successwas won, and the enthusiasm of the wearied troops was aroused.

  On the 4th September the last reinforcements came in. The remainder ofthe 60th Rifles arrived from Meerut to join their brethren, the comradesof the little Gurkhas at the house of Hindu Rao, as well as a contingentfrom the Dogra ruler of Jummu and Kashmir. But the whole camp turned outto cheer a still more welcome reinforcement which accompanied these.

  Escorted by the Rifles came the guns--the big guns, the siege guns, thereal guns at last! With slow and stately tread, as though conscious oftheir importance and of the impression they were making, the massiveelephants--two harnessed to each gun--appeared in sight, hauling theponderous cannon to the place that needed them so much. With whatdelight the long-looked-for guns were greeted may well be imagined. Thefortunate soldiers of 1857 had never heard the classic phrases "Now wesha'n't be long!" and "Let 'em all come!", but if they had, they wouldcertainly have used them.

  In the thick of the crowd was Ted, who had got leave of absence from theRidge, and as Alec could not accompany him, he looked out for any otherchums who might be there, and soon caught sight of the khaki and blazingscarlet of Claude Boldre, gay with the colours of the "Flamingoes". Theygreeted Lieutenant Roberts, who was busy with his multifarious duties asD. A. Q. M. G., but cheerful and brisk as ever, and stood behind a groupof hilarious Tommies.

  "Here come the guns at last!" cried a carabineer in an ecstacy ofenthusiasm.

  "Git away wid ye, it's Wombwell's menagerie comin' to give us anentertainment!" declared an Irish private.

  "Nice little ponies them are, drorin' them!" was another comment.

  "What--the uttees? Three cheers for the bloomin' uttees!"[19]

  [19] "Uttee" is Mr. Thomas Atkins' rendering of "hathi", the Hindustani for elephant, as readers of _The Jungle Book_ will know.

  "What'll we do wiv the huttees when we've got the guns fixed hup?They'll heat their 'eads hoff 'ere. There won't be none of hus left forfightin'; we shall hall 'ave to go hout foragin' for food for thehelephints hall day," observed a soldier of Cockney extraction.

  "Ay," a friend replied, "and they'll want exercising. Bill, you'll 'aveto go and take 'arf a dozen helephints for a run every mornin' beforebreakfast, same as you used to do them fox-terriers you used to have."

  Bill was wont to boast of the ratting qualities of his dogs at home.

  "Ay, Bill," chaffed another. "Go an' take 'em rattin' along the banks ofthe Jumner; they're beggars for rats are uttees."

  Bill was equal to the occasion, however, and readily replied:

  "Nothin' of the sort! General told me has the helephints was comin'to-day, an' 'e says to me, 'Bill,' sez 'e, 'wot are we to do with themuttees when they come?' 'General,' sez hi, 'why not mount the Gurkeys on'em an' make 'em into light horsemen?--there's nobody else's legs 'ud goround a huttee.' 'Bill,' sez 'e, 'you're a genius!'"

  The laugh that followed showed that Bill had scored, and a group ofofficers standing by, who had up to this point tried to preserve asedate demeanour, joined in the merriment at the thought of a littleGurkha perched astride one of the monsters. Regardless of the jests attheir expense, the huge pachyderms came steadily on through theclustered ranks of interested and gaping spectators.

  "By gum, boys, them are guns! We'll soon be in Delhi now!"

  "Three cheers for the Bengal Artillery! and three more for John Lawrencewho sent them!"

  The cheers were lustily given, for hopes ran high.

  "They ought to make short work of the walls," said Claude. "I thinkwe're going to have a look in at last."

  "Yes; we're all getting a bit sick of waiting. Hope we can get a goodplace in the stalls when the theatre doors open," Ted replied.

  "And I hope Nicholson leads us. By the way, I suppose you've heardnothing fresh from Aurungpore?"

  "Nothing."

  "That's rough on you. It must be horribly upsetting to have the matterhanging over so long."

  "It is. I'm glad we're kept so busy, though, as I haven't much time tothink of it."

  "Never say die! Truth will out, you know, and you'll be all right. AlecPaterson told me the whole story. That chap Tynan must be a prettyaverage cad. More guns coming!"

  "'Ullo!" exclaimed our friend Bill as the end of the procession cameinto sight, "where's the rest of the show? There's nothing but huttees!"

  "No more there isn't. This is a bloomin' fine circus, this is!"

  "Here, you!" shouted a dragoon to a dignified mahout, "where's yergiraffes, an' 'ippopotamusses, an' ricoconoseroses, an' kangeroos? Why,there ain't no clowns nor hacrobats!--this is a fraud! Gimme me moneyback, I can see a better menagerie than this in Hengland!"

  "Ay, give us our money back!" chimed in the others in tones of simulatedindignation; and roars of laughter went up, to the astonishment of thestaid Sikhs and Punjabis, and to the delight of the jolly littleGurkhas.

  But though the whole camp was in such high spirits, the more knowingones understood that Delhi had not fallen yet, and that these cannonwere no bigger, and were greatly inferior in number to those mounted onthe city walls. Also that the mutineers' guns, being sheltered by thesolid masonry, were twice as effective as their own unprotectedarmament.

  During the next few days the whole camp helped the Engineers to put intoexecution the plan of attack which Colonel Baird Smith's masterly brainhad planned. At dead of night the soldiers constructed batteries andshelter-trenches between the English camp and the walls, in positionswhere it would have meant death to have worked by daylight. Before longthousands of gabions[20] and acres of fascines[21] had been made for theprotection of gunners.
<
br />   [20] Gabions are hollow cylinders of basket-work filled with earth.

  [21] Fascines are large bundles of brushwood faggots.

  On the eventful morning of 8th September, 1857, Major Brind of theArtillery--a man concerning whom an officer present observed: "Talkabout the V.C., why, Brind should be covered with them from head tofoot!"--is given the honour of commencing the bombardment from No. 1Battery, only seven hundred and fifty yards from the walls. In spite ofall Brind's labours of the night, the sun rises before his battery isready for action, and the mutineers at once perceive his designs.Pitiless showers of well-directed grape plunge in and around thebattery. Though but half-sheltered from this terrible fire, Brind'sgunners, assisted by a detachment of the Gurkhas of the KumaonBattalion, go on with the rapid completion of the work. At length asingle howitzer is dragged into position, and the first shot of the realbombardment is fired. It is but a feeble retort to the thundering giantsof the Mori and Kashmir bastions, and the foemen laugh as they continueto pound the gallant little band with round-shot, grape, and shell. Tedfrom his post on the Ridge looks on with disappointed eyes.

  But before long a second gun is on its platform, and then a third, andthe rebels laugh no longer. And soon the battery is complete; five18-pounders and four 24-pounders, magnificently aimed and served, arereplying in earnest, as though the very cannon knew how long the armyhad been waiting for them, and had resolved to do their duty and showthat the waiting had not been in vain. With high hopes and expectationsthousands of British, Gurkha, Pathan, Sikh, and Dogra soldiers look onat the awful duel. Idle spectators are they, unable to assist, and safefrom the venomous fire of the rebel cannon which are now all directed tothe destruction of this impertinent No. 1 Battery. The insurgents standmanfully to their guns, but the finest artillerymen in the world areserving under Brind, and at length, to the delight and amid theresounding cheers and hurrahs of the spectators, the massive masonry ofthe Mori Bastion, that looked but yesterday strong enough to defy anearthquake, begins to crumble away. The answering fire slackens anddwindles down.

  By this time No. 2 Battery (Campbell's) is ready, but is directed towait until No. 3 can also be prepared, in order that the enemy'ssurprise may be the greater. With No. 2 is a party of the Jummucontingent, who are at first unwilling to ply spades and shovels or pilesand-bags, murmuring that they are come to fight, not to do coolie work.As the mutineers blaze away, these Dogra Rajputs, throwing down shovels,seize their muskets and fire harmlessly at the stone walls, to the greatdanger of the artillerymen. They are at once told by Major Campbell thatthey are there to work and not to play at fighting, and they manfullysettle down to the uncongenial task.

  The attention of the foe having been purposely attracted by No. 1Battery, No. 3 (Scott's)--partially prepared during the night, andconcealed by grass and branches of trees--has been secretly at work, andis ready on the morning of the 12th. Dangerously near to the rebelcannon is No. 3; less than two hundred yards separate the Britishgunners from their antagonists. Almost at the same moment No. 4 Battery(Major Tombs') prepares for action. To achieve the secret completion ofthese batteries has been the brilliant work of Colonel Baird Smith andof his worthy second in command, Engineer-Captain Alexander Taylor.

  For three days Brind's guns have been reducing the gigantic andformidable Mori Bastion to powder, whilst the other three batteries havebeen preparing to lend him a hand.

  "Not much left of our old friend!" observes Major Reid cheerfully to asmall group of his officers, who stand gazing upon the work ofdestruction on the evening of September the 11th.

  As Reid speaks, another shell strikes their ancient antagonist, the MoriBastion, towards which he is pointing.

  "They're defending it well, though, sir," replies Captain Russell, asgun after gun is brought forward by the rebels, who are makingpraiseworthy efforts to silence Brind. "We've got so used to the oldbastion that one feels almost sorry to see him going to the dogs in thisway."

  "He's losing flesh rapidly," Ted joins in, as yet another of Brind'skind regards is sent crashing against the once rock-like wall and afresh shower of dust is thrown up.

  "I can't say that I feel much pity for him," Reid grimly declared. "Hehas too many of my brave lads' lives to answer for," the commandantadded with a tinge of sadness in his voice.

  "Well, the rest will be merely child's play, I fancy," conjectured ayoung lieutenant standing by.

  Major Reid solemnly regarded the author of this remark for a few secondsbefore replying.

  "You think so, young man?" he asked. "Better keep the playing until itis over. The hard work is yet to come."

  Whilst the bombardment proceeds, the Ridge is tolerably safe, for theDelhi guns are too much occupied with Brind's pestilent battery to paymuch heed to any other place. The duel continues, waxing hotter andstill more hot.

  "Splendid practice our fellows are making!" says Jim presently.

  "They're a long time with those other batteries," our ensign hazards."I wish to goodness they'd hurry them up, and then for storming theplace!"

  "Don't be impatient, youngster," Reid replies. "If we play our part aswell as the Artillery and Engineers are doing theirs, our country willhave precious little cause for complaint. They are doing their workmagnificently; they've already accomplished wonders, and it's a lot moreeasy to talk about it and to criticise them, than to get guns intoposition in the face of those bastions."

  Feeling somewhat abashed by his chief's rebuke, as he doubtless deservedto be, Ted discreetly remains silent.

  Darkness closing in brings the artillery duel to an end, and the troopslie down for the night.

  Not all, however.

  Under cover of the night the sappers and miners and gunners are hard atwork completing the preparations for batteries Nos. 3 and 4. Our fellowswork like true Britons, for their hearts are in their labour. Encouragedby Captain Taylor, who superintends the work, and by their otherofficers, all of whom lend a hand like the meanest private, they toil onwith steadfast, energetic purpose, and daylight finds them prepared.

  Word has mysteriously reached the Ridge that to-morrow's sun will see abombardment the like of which has never before been known in the East,and our friends are stirring soon after sunrise, waiting in exultantanticipation.

  "Is it true, sir," asks Ted, "that all four batteries will be playing onthe town this morning?"

  "I'm hoping so, but I can't say how far they got last night."

  At length the longed-for moment arrives. At eight o'clock on the morningof the 12th nine 24-pounders of No. 2 Battery open fire simultaneouslyon the Kashmir Bastion. Ringing cheers of triumph greet this, thegreatest salvo of the whole war, for, as the smoke clears away and thedeafening thunder and reverberating echoes die down, our friends andtheir fellow-spectators see that this very first discharge is bringingdown huge masses of masonry.

  A moment of profound silence follows: then a mighty cry of exultationbursts forth.

  "Ah! Well done! Well aimed, Campbell!" scream the enthusiasticonlookers.

  But the insurgent guns hotly and strenuously reply, and Campbell'sbattery seem likely to suffer severely, for the rebel fire is not onlyhot, but is also exceedingly well directed.

  "They're keeping their tails up pluckily enough. Villains though theyare, they're not cowards," murmurs one.

  "That's true! Seems to me that No. 2's in a tight place enough. I onlyhope--"

  What that officer hoped will never be known.

  A deafening roar from another direction interrupts his expression ofopinion and announces that Major Tombs' Battery (No. 4) is dealing withthe rebel guns.

  "Hurrah! Tombs is givin' it 'em 'ot! Tombs 'e's a-silencin' of 'em!"shout the riflemen.

  "Ulu-ulu-ulu!" scream the delighted Gurkhas.

  "Ah!" gasp the astounded Sikhs and Pathans, who have never before seencannonade like this.

  Whilst the British riflemen estimate and argue the distance of thebattery from the walls and the probable duration of the bombardment,
theGuides and Gurkhas chatter and scream with excitement. Many of theseallies of ours have been somewhat prone to consider themselves quite asgood soldiers as their employers, but now they are beginning tounderstand a little more clearly the extent of the British power andresources. And such consideration is good for them.

  Again Tombs's gunners fling their iron hail against the Delhi cannon,putting them out of action one by one.

  "Why, Tombs has got within two hundred yards!" a spectator guesses.

  "No, hardly so close as that," declares a second.

  "Well, he ain't much farther away," another joins in. And exclamationsof "Well done, Tombs!" "Well aimed, sir!" ring out from the Ridgeunheeded, because unheard by the gunners steadily plying their grimtrade. For Major Tombs is a general favourite; stories of his prowessand dare-devilry have spread throughout the British camp, and theapproving cheers are echoed from scores of throats.

  "Might this be a cricket match?" suavely enquires a captain of the 60thRifles as he smiles at the enthusiasm.

  The mutineers are aghast! How have those batteries been brought thereand concealed and protected? And then, only one hundred and sixty yardsfrom the Water Bastion, No. 3 unmasks. But, alas! the work hasnecessarily been done at night, and in the darkness a serious mistakehas been made. The big piles of covered sand-bags, which had been placedto hide the guns from the watchful enemy, as well as to protect ourgunners from their fire when the moment should come for unmasking, arefound to have been carefully piled in a wrong position, so as toobstruct the aim of our guns. For men to go outside the shelter in orderto remove the obstruction will not only take a long time, but willexpose to almost certain death any brave enough to venture out. Sothinks the heroic commandant of the battery, who fears nothing forhimself, but hesitates to order his men to be shot down one by one, forso close are they under the walls that the rebel gunners can hardly missthem. But while he pauses in doubt, a Sikh sapper calmly springs outsideand commences to throw down the pile before his own gun. With one accordthe other sappers and gunners follow the noble example, and theclearance is effected with such rapidity that the guns are ready to openfire before the sepoys have grasped the fact of the battery's presence.

  Then is hurled forth such a shower of shell and heavy shot from thatshort distance that the traitors are filled with dismay. The ironhurricane teaches them at last what English artillery can do even in theface of such tremendous odds. This salvo of heavy guns heralds theturning-point of the Sepoy war, and determines the fate of the Indianempire. As the huge Water Bastion crumbles into a shapeless mass ofmasonry and is crushed into atoms by these 18-and 24-pounders, so thegreat mutiny is crushed and crumbled at the same time. The last hope ofthe mutineers is quenched; they may fight on, they may inflict greatdamage on the Feringhi, they may still accomplish further murders andmassacres in various places throughout the land, but all hope of finaltriumph, all chance of overthrowing the British raj is gone for ever,destroyed by the fire of this magnificent artillery.

  In Hindustan news travels from mouth to mouth over hundreds of milesalmost as quickly as by telegraph; so north and south, east and west,flew the tidings that the walls and gates of Delhi were being battereddown, that in the course of a few days the great city would be in thehands of the sahibs and the Mogul emperor a captive. Amongst the Pathantribes along the Punjab frontier, in Afghanistan, Beluchistan,Waziristan, Kashmir, the Black Mountain country, and in Nepal, the newswas told, and Afghan, Beluchi, Waziri, Afridi, Mohmand, Bunerwal, Swati,Yusufzai, Mamund, and Punjabi, who would most eagerly have helped torout and destroy the British had our army retired beaten from Delhi, nowscornfully turned a deaf ear to all appeals of the mutineers to comeover and help them. For the Pathan worships success and despises thefallen.

  "Nay," said they, "if you with forty thousand men and nearly two hundredcannon, entrenched behind strong walls and with every advantage, if youcould be held in check for weeks by two or three thousand British andfive hundred Gurkha monkey-men, and a few hundred more of our brethrenof the Guides whom ye could not defeat, and then suffered your walls tobe battered down as soon as this small army had been reinforced by moreof our countrymen and neighbours, what chance will ye have now, drivenout of your stronghold? And are not fresh red-coated regiments and corpsof fierce, tall men in women clothes even now arriving from beyond theseas? Nay, we will not join you; rather will we fight on the side of the_kafirs_,[22] together with the Gurkha pigs and vile Sikh infidels."

  [22] _Kafir_ (infidel) is a term frequently applied by Mohammedans, to denote a European.

  So the tribesmen now offered their services in such numbers that theyhad to be refused. They brought wild horses that would not suffer anyman to mount them, and they came with ancient, worn-out steeds, blind,lame, and weak at the knees, swearing and protesting that these were allsplendid chargers, perfectly trained and in superb condition. With thesethey would fight the mutineers, if only the great sahibs, Edwardes andJan Larens, would give them a soldier's pay. So John Lawrence,Commissioner of the Punjab, was enabled to send down more than fiftythousand men to uphold the British raj.

  Day and night throughout the 12th and 13th of September the breachingoperations continued, fifty guns grinding mercilessly at the rock-likewalls. Though defeat stared them in the face the sepoys showed acourageous front to the end, and as their cannon were one by one knockedout of action, they brought fresh guns up and returned a rapid andwell-aimed fire. Their sharp-shooters were told off to pick out theEnglish gunners, and no easy task had those gallant fellows. To our heroand to the hundreds of onlookers the bombardment formed a grand butawful spectacle. Fascinated by the sight, they watched the salvoes ofartillery directed at the bastions, every shot striking home, sending upclouds of dust, and followed often enough by a fall of masonry. Therebel shots whistled and rattled in the air, guns flashed and shellsexploded both over their own men and over the doomed city. From thehighest to the lowest, from the general in command to the youngestdrummer-boy, all knew that this was the crowning work of anxious monthsof toil. Proud men were the engineer officers, Baird Smith and Taylor,one the brain, the other the hand that had thought out and directed thissupreme finish. Proud also were Brind, Tombs, and the otherartillerymen, for without their magnificent heroism and skill the plansof the engineers would have come to naught.

  One building there was in Delhi close to the Kashmir Gate and the WaterBastion, which the Sikhs and Pathans and Gurkhas, and the rebel sepoysthemselves, began to regard with awe--a white-domed edifice not unlike amosque, save for the cross surmounting its cupola. It was the Englishchurch; and though shot and shell had crashed around and over it, thecross remained untouched.

  On the 13th of September Captain Taylor declared that the breaches inthe walls were large enough to admit of a successful assault, so BairdSmith, ill and harassed, weak and lame as he was, mapped out precisedirections for five columns to attack the city at various points.Nicholson was appointed to the first column, and when the others shouldjoin him in the city he was to take command of the whole force.