The G.A. Henty

by G. A. Henty

  In October, Ambajee Inglia, who had acted as Scindia’s representative and held, under him, extensive territories, had offered to renounce his dependence on Scindia, and become a tributary of the British. Negotiations were, as usual, spun out to a great length; but a treaty was concluded with him, on the 16th of December, by which he agreed to surrender Gwalior and the lands to the north of it, and to remain as an independent sovereign of the other territories in his possession.

  A corps, under Colonel White, was sent to take possession of the fortress. The commandant refused to recognize the arrangement but, upon batteries being erected, a breach was soon effected, and the garrison surrendered.

  The news came that Scindia had broken his treaty, and had been defeated with great slaughter by General Wellesley, who afterwards besieged the strong fortress of Gawilghur. Guns were brought up, with great difficulty, over thirty miles of mountains and ravines. They opened fire on the 13th of December and, as soon as a breach was practicable, the place was carried by storm, and a large quantity of guns and ammunition fell into the hands of the British.

  The Rajah of Berar, terrified at the defeat of Scindia, now sent to ask for peace, and ceded the district of Cuttack; thereby placing the whole of the maritime provinces, between Madras and Calcutta, in the hands of the British. Scindia, finding himself forsaken by his ally, also made peace, surrendering a considerable portion of his territories.

  1804 opened quietly, but peace was not long maintained. Holkar had, after his expulsion from Poona, made peace with Scindia and, when hostilities commenced, had waited to see the result before committing himself. At first he viewed with satisfaction the misfortunes that had befallen Scindia and the Rajah of Berar but, when he saw that they were threatened with annihilation, he prepared to aid them. He had, however, delayed too long and, when Scindia and the Rajah of Berar had been obliged to crave for peace, he kept his army on the frontier of the Rajah of Jaipore, now a British ally.

  General Lake addressed a letter to him, saying that the British Government were willing to leave him unmolested; but requiring, as a pledge of his good intentions, that he should withdraw into his own territory. Holkar sent back a long list of demands, which were impossible to satisfy; and also addressed a letter to General—now Sir Arthur—Wellesley, threatening to overrun the whole country, unless some of the districts in the Deccan were ceded to him and, after sending off this letter, he began raiding the territory of Jaipore. Colonel Murray was therefore sent to aid the rajah, and to march in the direction of Holkar’s capital; while Lord Lake marched westward, until he neared Jaipore.

  On the 15th of May a detachment captured the strong fort of Rampoora, the sole fortress which Holkar possessed north of the Chumbul river; and Holkar immediately fell back. The heat being now intense, the general left Colonel Monson, with five battalions of Sepoys and three thousand irregular horse, sent by Rajpoot allies, and returned to Agra, losing numbers of his men on the march, by sunstroke.

  Harry had been left with Colonel Monson. The latter, intending to cooperate with Colonel Murray, entered Holkar’s territory and, on the way, captured a strong hill fort. He afterwards advanced fifty miles beyond the range of mountains that formed the frontier.

  On the 7th of July he heard that Holkar was advancing, with his whole army, to meet him. Monson’s force was much weakened by the absence of two detachments, one of which had garrisoned the hill fort that had been captured, and another had gone to fetch a supply of grain. Almost at the same time he heard a report that Colonel Murray intended to fall back.

  After consulting with Harry, who, as one of Lord Lake’s staff, was considered as his special representative, it was agreed that it would be madness, with so small a force, to give battle to Holkar and, at four in the morning on the following day, Monson sent off his baggage and stores; and remained, with his troops drawn up in order of battle, until nine o’clock; leaving the irregular cavalry, under Lieutenant Lucan, to follow in half an hour, and bring him intelligence of Holkar’s movements.

  Monson marched twelve miles when a trooper of the irregular cavalry overtook him, with the news that they had been completely defeated by Holkar’s army, and that Lucan had been made prisoner. The retreat was continued, and the force reached the pass across the mountains on the evening of the following day, and took up a position there. Holkar’s cavalry appeared next morning and, on the 11th, Holkar himself arrived and sent in a demand for the surrender of the cannon and muskets. This was refused, and Holkar, dividing his horse into three bodies, charged the detachment vigorously in front and both flanks; but the defenders again and again repulsed the attack. Holkar then drew off about four miles, and was joined by the artillery and infantry.

  “What is your opinion, Captain Lindsay?” Colonel Monson said.

  “If we had a regiment of British infantry with us, sir, I should say that we might attack them, with success; but with only four battalions of Sepoys, it seems to me that a retreat would be the better choice of two evils. We shall undoubtedly suffer heavily. The rain is pouring down unceasingly, and I doubt whether we shall be able to get the guns along; but we ought to be able to march as fast as Holkar’s infantry and, as to his cavalry, we can certainly beat them off.”

  Two long marches were made. The enemy’s cavalry swarmed round them, but dared not attack; and the force arrived safely at Kotah, where they expected to find food and shelter. The rajah, however, closed the gates and refused to admit them; and the force pressed on towards a ford on the Chumbul. The distance was only seven miles but, from the incessant rain and the state of the road, a whole day was spent in accomplishing it.

  The ford was impassable, but during the night it subsided a little, and they were able to cross. A day’s halt was necessary, in order to procure some grain; and on the 15th, when the march was continued, the guns sank so deep in the mud that they could not be extricated, and they were therefore spiked and abandoned.

  Two days later the force reached another river, but it was so swollen that it was unfordable. The artillerymen were sent across, on elephants; but ten days were spent in carrying the rest of the troops over, partly on elephants and partly on rafts. Terrible privation was suffered, and many men were drowned in crossing; while the wives and children of the Sepoys who, by some gross mismanagement, were left to the last, were slaughtered by the enemy under the eyes of their husbands and fathers.

  On the 29th the corps reached Rampoora; where a reinforcement of two battalions of Sepoys, six guns, and a body of cavalry, together with a supply of grain forwarded by Lord Lake from Agra, awaited them. Notwithstanding this reinforcement, Colonel Monson considered it his duty to continue his retreat and, on the 22nd of August, reached the Banass, which was also in flood. Some boats, however, were found, and a portion of the troops were carried across.

  Early the next morning Holkar’s cavalry appeared, and encamped at a distance of four miles. The next day the river was fordable, and most of the baggage and four battalions crossed. The enemy’s cavalry also crossed in great numbers, both to the right and left of the British position.

  Their artillery and infantry arrived in the afternoon, and opened fire on the battalions still left on the bank. Harry was with these. Seeing that they were being decimated by the guns, he called upon the Sepoys to charge. This they did with great spirit, drove back the enemy, and captured some of the guns; but the Mahrattas soon rallied and, led by Holkar himself, charged in such overwhelming numbers that the handful of troops was nearly annihilated. Harry, seeing that all was lost, cut his way through the enemy’s horse and succeeded in crossing the river.

  Colonel Monson continued his retreat, and reached Kooshalpur on the night of the 25th. He found that the native officer in command there had declared for Holkar; but that the fort, which contained the elephants and baggage, still held out. That evening Monson learnt that some of his Sepoy officers were in communication with Holkar; and two companies, and a large portion of the native cavalry deserted.

 
The whole of the enemy’s cavalry now encamped round the detachment. At seven in the evening Colonel Monson continued his march, forming his troops into an oblong, which the enemy in vain attempted to break. On the night of the 27th, after halting for a few hours, he moved again, at one in the morning; but had no sooner cleared the broken ground than the enemy’s cavalry made a desperate charge. This was repulsed with great coolness, the Sepoys reserving their fire till the enemy were within bayonet reach.

  At sunset the troops, worn out by fatigue and hunger, arrived at the Biana pass; but the enemy brought up their guns, and the retreat was continued. The confusion in the ranks, which had been increasing all day, now extended; and the troops broke and fled to Agra, pursued by straggling parties of the enemy for the greater portion of the distance.

  In consequence of this disastrous affair, it was decided that Lord Lake should immediately take the field; although the wet weather still continued, and a large tract of country was under water. Four weeks after the arrival of Monson, with his fugitives, the army marched out of their cantonment, and encamped on the right bank of the river.

  The situation was critical. Holkar’s army numbered ninety-two thousand men, of whom sixty-six thousand were cavalry, and he had with him ninety-two cannon. He had advanced to Muttra, which had been abandoned at his approach.

  Lord Lake sent for Harry.

  “I have another dangerous mission for you, Captain Lindsay. I consider it more than possible that Holkar will make an attempt to recapture Delhi. Colonel Ochterlony, in command there, must be warned of the probability of an attack. He may be in ignorance of what is passing here. You will bear this despatch, urging on him to do all that he can to place the town in a state of defence, and to summon to his assistance as many irregulars as possible from the neighbouring chiefs. The distance is a hundred and twenty miles. I leave it to you whether to go in uniform, or in disguise.”

  “I think, sir, that I had better disguise myself as, doubtless, Holkar’s cavalry are spread all over the country intent on plundering and, should I fall in with them, I ought to have no difficulty in passing myself off as one of themselves. I will leave my uniform here, to be brought on with the baggage. They might take it into their heads to search my saddlebags.”

  “I think that would be the wisest plan,” the general said. “You will, of course, remain at Delhi till reinforcements arrive there. The despatches will be ready for you, in an hour’s time.”

  There was no difficulty in obtaining dye at Agra, and Harry stained himself from head to foot, put on the disguise in which he had ridden with the news of Assaye and, after receiving the despatch, started at once. The direct road lay through Muttra but, as Holkar’s main body was at this town, he rode to the northeast as far as Secundara. There was no occasion for any great haste, for it was certain that some little time must elapse before Holkar could march from Muttra; and he accordingly stopped for the night at Coringunga, having ridden about fifty miles. He speedily secured a room, and Abdool at once set to, to prepare a meal. While it was being cooked, there was a sound of a body of horse entering the village.

  “It is unfortunate that we have stopped here, Abdool,” he said. “We are sure to be questioned.”

  Ten minutes later the door opened, and an officer of Holkar’s irregular horse entered.

  “I hear that you have just arrived,” he said.

  “Yes; I rode in but half an hour ago.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To Sambol. There seems no chance of fighting, at present; and I therefore left the army to pay a visit, for a day or two, to some friends. My man has just prepared a meal. Will you share it with me?”

  “I will, with pleasure,” the officer said, “for I have ridden from Muttra, and may have to wait an hour before my supper is ready for me. What may be your name?”

  “Puntojee. And yours?”

  “Wisnas.”

  The officer unbuckled his sword, and seated himself on the ground, the room being entirely unfurnished.

  “Were you in that affair, when we chased the English dogs from beyond the mountains to Agra?”

  “Yes, I was in it; and never wish to campaign in such weather again. I was wet through for three weeks; and hardly feel that I have got dry, yet.”

  “They are brave fellows, those Sepoys in the English service.”

  “They are, indeed,” Harry agreed. “It seemed that we must destroy them; and yet they withstood our attacks, weary and exhausted as they must have been. The worst of it was that, after all our exertions, there was no booty to be obtained.”

  “Yes, that was bad. One doesn’t feel so disposed to risk one’s life, when there is nothing to be gained. We did not even succeed in capturing their treasure chest. If we could have brought our infantry up, we should have destroyed them; but they had to march at the same rate as the guns; and in such weather they could get along but slowly, for it often required the bullocks of four guns to drag one through those quagmires.

  “That was where the English had the advantage over us. The road was, no doubt, bad enough for them; it was infinitely worse for us, after they had cut it up in passing.

  “It was a mistake when Scindia began to form regiments of infantry, and Holkar and the Peishwa imitated him. Before that, we had India at our mercy. What power could withstand a hundred thousand horsemen, here today, there tomorrow? Then, we had it in our power to waste all the country, and to starve out the fortresses from Cuttack to the north. Our territory extended from the great mountains on the east, to the sea in the west.

  “Now we can only move at the pace of footmen; and while, formerly, no infantry would venture to withstand our charge; now, as you see, a handful of Sepoys set us at defiance, repulsed our charges, and gained Agra simply because our guns and infantry could not arrive to help us.”

  “There can be no doubt that you are right,” Harry agreed; “but I cannot blame Scindia and Holkar for forming regiments of infantry, trained by foreign officers. They had seen how the regiments so raised, by the English, had won great victories in the Carnatic and Bengal; and they did not think at that time that, ere long, they might become formidable to the Mahrattas. Scindia and Holkar raised their regiments, not to fight against the strangers, but against each other. It was their mutual hostility that so diminished the strength of the Mahrattas. When dogs fight dogs, the wild boar ravages the land.”

  “It is true enough,” the other said. “As a nation we might have ruled Asia but, divided among ourselves, wasting our forces against each other, we have allowed the stranger to wrest province after province from us.

  “Now, I will go out and see that the men have all got quarters, and that the people of the village are feeding them, as they should. In truth, we have been having a bad time, lately.”

  “Yes, indeed; I thought myself lucky, sometimes, to get a handful of grain after twenty hours in the saddle.

  “It cannot be helped, comrade. We must drive the strangers back towards Allahabad; recover Benares, Agra, and Delhi; and then we shall be able to rest in peace, for a time, before we settle accounts with Scindia, and the others who have made a disgraceful peace with the English. We shall never have peace in the Deccan till we sack and destroy Bombay, and force the last Englishman to take to his ships.”

  Harry started with Abdool before daybreak the next morning and, riding all day, reached Delhi late in the evening. Putting up the horses, he proceeded to the house occupied by Colonel Ochterlony, the Resident.

  “Will you tell the colonel,” he said, “that I am an officer with despatches from General Lake?”

  He was at once shown in. Colonel Burns, the commander of the garrison, was with the Resident. Neither was surprised that the messenger should be a native, for they knew the difficulties a British officer would encounter in travelling from Agra.

  “I have ridden with a despatch for you, Colonel, from General Lake. I am Captain Lindsay, and have the honour of serving on the general’s staff.”

&
nbsp; “I am glad to see you, sir,” Ochterlony said, kindly. “Your name is pretty well known, to all of us, as that of an officer who has successfully carried out several dangerous enterprises; and this cannot have been one of the most dangerous of them, for indeed, in that disguise I do not think that anyone would entertain the slightest suspicion that you are not what you appear to be.

  “I am told you speak Mahratta perfectly.”

  “I was brought up among the Mahrattas, sir. I have got through easily, and only once came upon a body of Holkar’s cavalry.”

  “You have just arrived, Captain Lindsay?”

  “Yes, not ten minutes ago.”

  The colonel rang the bell, and directed a servant who came in to bring in wine and refreshments. He then opened the despatches which, after reading, he passed across to Colonel Burns.

  “Of course, we have heard reports of the disaster to Monson’s force. Was it as serious as they say?”

  “It was very serious, sir. I was with them, and they suffered terribly. They lost their guns and baggage, and at least a third of their infantry.”

  “It is unfortunate, very unfortunate, Captain Lindsay. We have had so many victories, of late, that the natives must have almost concluded that we were invincible; but this check will encourage them, and will doubtless bring many waverers over to their side.”

  “I don’t think that it was, in any way, Colonel Monson’s fault. His column was to join that of Colonel Murray—who, however, doubtless learning the great strength Holkar had with him, fell back—and with only five battalions of Sepoys, and a dozen guns, it was practically impossible that Monson could, single handed, resist the attack of ninety thousand men. If he had had with him a couple of British battalions, and a regiment or two of our cavalry, he might have held the passes but, alone, it did not seem to me possible that he could do so; especially when the enemy’s cavalry could have crossed the hills at other points, and taken them in the rear. Even if he had resisted all attacks, he must have been starved out.