Indian Mutiny and Beyond

by Robert Shebbeare VC (retail) (epub)

  The narrative which follows is drawn from the reminiscences of both Lieutenant Walker,1 acting Captain, and Colonel Seaton,2 Commanding Officer of the 60th from 15 May, and will serve to give some idea of the circumstances in which the English officers found themselves, well as giving the reader an account of the role that Robert Shebbeare played in it all. (Their contributions have been marked ‘W’ and ‘S’ at the end of each excerpt.)

  On Sunday, May 10th, my regiment the 60th B.N.I. mutinied, and broke into the bells of arms. Each company had one to itself, in which the sepoys deposited, after each parade and duty, their muskets, bayonets, belts, and pouches, which contained twenty or thirty rounds of ammunition. These were kept under lock and key.

  My pay-havildar, or sergeant, appeared breathlessly at my bungalow at about 10 am, and reported to me that the sepoys had mutinied, and were breaking open the bells of arms. The old gentleman begged me to ride down at once to the lines. I mounted my horse and galloped down, making at once for the centre bell of arms of the five contained in the block belonging to the right wing of the regiment, for it belonged to No. 2 Company, of which I was in charge, as the captain was on furlough in England.

  I at once saw that I was only just in time, for the Grenadiers and No. 3 Company had broken into theirs, were putting on their belts, and had their muskets in their hands. I pushed through the crowd of men and turned a number of sepoys of No. 2 Company away from the door of their bell of arms.

  If fierce looks could have killed me I should have been a dead man, perhaps I should say boy, on the spot. The door of No. 2 Company was inside a portico which the others had not. This served as a sentry-box for the sentry, who was always posted over the block of five.

  I thrust myself into this, and putting my back against the door, defended it. I implored the men not to disgrace the company as others had done theirs. I heard the door of No. 1 Company burst open and the men shout.

  Men of the Grenadiers and other companies with fixed bayonets came up and yelled insolently to me ‘to come out’. Others were loading their muskets, and one man said, ‘All right, I will shoot you there.’ I told him that if he did he would blow the whole place up, for the ammunition inside would explode. Luckily for me he believed it, and with an oath came down to the ‘ready’.

  One man lowered his bayonet and said to me, ‘Come out or I will bayonet you.’ The sentry, quite a young lad, stood in front of the portico, apparently quite stupefied. I ordered him to come down to the charge position and help me defend the door. He instantly obeyed, and as quickly was knocked over, disarmed, and disappeared.

  The man, with his bayonet lowered, approached nearer to me, threatening as before. I was making up my mind to spring at him and possess myself of his musket and bayonet, when the old pay-sergeant appeared on the scene. He forced himself to me, and, knocking the bayonet down, said, ‘I am a Brahmin, and you will first have to kill me, then the lieutenant, and then you will get this door open.’ Killing a Brahmin, or man of the priest caste, is looked upon as sacrilege by Hindus. The old gentleman put himself in front of me. The loaded muskets were lowered, and the sergeant said to me, ‘Do not you argue with them, sahib; let me.’ A tall dark-complexioned sepoy, with whom I had often practised wrestling and single-stick in the regimental sports shed, with his bayonet fixed and musket at the trail, caught hold of the pay-sergeant’s arm and tried to pull him out of the portico, saying, ‘I am a Brahmin too, come out of this.’ I seized the musket and bayonet out of the man’s hand, and we pushed him out. I shall never forget the man’s face as he abused me. He rushed up to another sepoy and seized his loaded musket. The pay-sergeant, calling the man by his name (he was a Tewarrie, but the other name I forget), asked him, ‘What are you going to do?’ Other sepoys shouted at him and I heard the word ‘Magazine’. It was evident that they feared an explosion if the man fired at me.

  At this moment Colonel Drought appeared on the scene. He called out, ‘What is all this about, my children?’ The men congregated around him; the dark man went too. The good old pay-sergeant said to me, ‘Buch gea, sahib!’ (We have escaped, sir).

  The colonel, on seeing me, called me up to him. The sergeant said, ‘Go, sir; I will guard the door.’ I gave him the musket and bayonet and went to the colonel, the sepoys making way for me.

  They were pointing to a troop of Horse Artillery, manned by Englishmen, and complaining that they were turned out to fire on the regiment, giving this as the reason for their behaviour. It was just the other way; the troop turned out in consequence of their mutinying.

  The colonel asked me if I had got my horse, and on my answering in the affirmative, he ordered me to ride up to the officer commanding the troop and to beg of him not to bring his guns down, as the men dreaded their appearance on parade, and he feared it would drive them to mutiny!

  After delivering this message, I told the officer the actual mutinous state of things. He then withdrew his troop behind a barrack out of sight of our men. I galloped back to the colonel, and, on my reaching him the sepoys shouted out, ‘Bravo, Walker, Sahib!’ And these were the villains who a few minutes before were abusing me and threatening my life!

  Other officers of the regiment had appeared on the scene, and the men commenced to return their arms and accoutrement. So ended the awful May 10, 1857, so far as my regiment was concerned. (W)

  On 11 May, the 5th NI, whose lines were next to the 60th, mutinied and seized their arms, but later returned them.

  The next day, General Sir Henry Barnard ordered the regiment to parade, and addressed the men. He told them that he had heard of all that had occurred, and as he felt sure that it arose from groundless excitement on the men’s part, he would overlook it, but ordered the two colours to be brought forward and the Regiment to pass by them in single file, each man to kiss both colours, to show loyalty and fidelity. The officers were afterwards told by spectators that after kissing the colours and going a short way past them, each sepoy spat on the ground, which amongst Asiatics means contempt and scorn. ‘After this, to show the great confidence the British officers placed in their men, we were ordered to sleep at night on the roads between the huts . . . my confidence in the sepoy kept my hand on my Tranter’s revolver.’ (W)

  Colonel Seaton arrived in Umballah to take command on 15 May and was at once bearded by a gentleman who said he had just seen a sepoy loading a musket close by.

  I got my glass, and on looking at the sepoy found that he was one of the 60th NI, the very ‘babes’ I had come to command. Without a moment’s delay I put on my sword, jumped into the buggy, and drove off to the quarters of the adjutant, the gallant and lamented Lieutenant Shebbeare.

  I immediately told him my errand, and we went at once to the commanding officer [Drought], to whom I produced my credentials, and then assumed the command. In five minutes I was on the way to the men’s lines, and as we went along I explained to Lieutenant Shebbeare the incident that had occurred at the Travellers’ Bungalow.

  The relieved guards were immediately paraded, and I inspected each musket separately. Of course not one was found loaded, nor was I particularly anxious at the moment to make the discovery. Had any preconcerted plan for a rising existed, we should have found many muskets loaded, or the men would have committed some act that would have betrayed their purpose. The state of the regiment was well known. There was a large force of Europeans in the cantonment. The native regiments were therefore powerless, if, as we hoped, proper measures were taken with them.

  I told the men my reason for inspecting their arms, I also said that I was glad to find that the sepoys had been calumniated; and that I hoped to learn that much of what I had heard of them was misrepresented.

  As I could not find any house near enough to the regiment, Lieutenant Shebbeare kindly placed a couple of rooms in his bungalow at my disposal. Living under the same roof with the adjutant was most convenient, for it enabled me to acquire in a very short time all the information that was necessary regarding the regiment,
to which, of course, I was a perfect stranger. (S)

  On the same day, 15 May, the Commander-in-Chief, General the Hon. George Anson, arrived at Umballah for the purpose of leading the field force that he was assembling in great haste for the purpose of advancing on Delhi. On the 16th he held a council of war and the question of disarming the 60th and 5th NI was considered. That he himself had grave doubts about them is shown by his comment: ‘They are still doing their duties and will be retained as part of this force, but it is impossible to conceal from oneself that there is some hazard in employing them on this service. The conduct of the Native Army has destroyed all confidence in any regiment, notwithstanding that they may still profess to be faithful and loyal.’3

  Seaton records:

  I was astonished that there should be the smallest doubt on the subject; but it appeared that, when the regiment had shown strong symptoms of disaffection, by standing to its arms on the 10th, as part of some preconcerted plan, and had been quieted by Sir H. Barnard, some sort of promise had been made or implied, that they should not be disarmed.

  No English officer likes to retire from a promise once given or implied; hence the honourable scruple to adopt what had now become a necessary measure of self-preservation. I strongly advocated the disarming, and was so far successful that I left the council table with the order in my pocket to disarm the regiment at four o’clock that afternoon.

  A few minutes before that time I told this to the adjutant [Shebbeare] as we were going to the parade ordered but on arriving at the ground, I found the Persian interpreter to the commander-in-chief, accompanied by the military secretary and aide-de-camp, there before me. The Chief, it appeared had changed his mind, and the Persian interpreter addressed the regiment, assuring them that they would go with the force to Delhi, and have an opportunity of showing their faithfulness and retrieving their character. I was indignant and disgusted, for I knew full well what would come of it, and foretold it at the council table; but as I was bound to make the best of it I addressed the men, who one and all swore fidelity to their colours and the Sircar [government]. It was, in the main a useless ceremony, but it quieted the minds of the officers, sobered the sepoys a little, and kept them quiet for a short time. The two native regiments were close together on the extreme left of the cantonment, the officers’ bungalows just behind the lines, and had the men broken out into open revolt, as at Meerut, we might have been murdered, one and all, long before help could have reached us. The sepoys, indeed, were in such a state that a trifle might have roused the demon within them. Under the circumstances, it seemed politic to seem to trust them. (S)

  On 22 May, the 75th Queen’s Regiment plus the 1st and 2nd European Bengal Fusiliers also arrived at Umballah to join the 9th Lancers and European Horse Artillery.

  These formed the nucleus of what later became called the ‘Delhi Field Force’, which soon set off for Delhi. The 60th also marched with them but there was so much distrust and disgust that when they arrived at Paneeput the Regiment was ordered to march on to Rohtuck, on the pretext that they were to collect revenue, but in reality to free the force of a dangerous element (see Note 1).

  Seaton’s version of the reason for being sent to Rohtuck differs here (and one must assume that his, as CO, was the right one) for he says that on 25 May, Colonel Chester, the Adjutant-General, gave him orders from the C-in-C to march to Rohtuck to intercept the Hurrianah Light Infantry, who, with the 4th Irregular Cavalry, had mutinied at Hansi and Hissar.

  Yet the regiment [the 60th], which had not only mutinied, but had long been looked on as composed of a turbulent, ill-conducted set of men, was deliberately sent to within a short distance of the very centre and focus of rebellion — to a place most convenient in the world for their purpose, and far from the control of English troops, on the pretence of intercepting two regiments that had just mutinied, and had massacred not only the English officers, but their wives and children, with atrocities equal to those committed at Meerut.

  Rohtuck is just forty-five miles from Delhi; there is a fine metalled road the whole way connecting the two places, and there was nothing on earth to prevent the men murdering us all, and joining the mutineers with their arms, camp-equipment, and a full complement of service ammunition.

  I had known Colonel Chester for years, but so thoroughly was he ashamed of the order, that when he communicated it he did not lift his eyes from the paper before him. It was a cruel, half-hearted measure, loudly condemned by every one in the force in stronger language than I should like to commit to paper, for not a soul ever expected to see me or my officers again.

  However, orders must be obeyed; no officer can flinch from them, even if he knows he is going to certain death. So I put a good face on the matter, spoke kindly to the men and cheerily to the officers, who, I must do them the justice to say, behaved manfully through this terrible trial.

  What had now come to pass I had foretold at the council of war. The European soldiers, who had heard of the mutiny, and of the atrocities perpetrated at Meerut, and had witnessed the conduct of the 60th at Umballa, were now so suspicious of them that they loudly declared they would not have that regiment in camp [at Paneeput]. The Commander-in-Chief saw his mistake when too late, and the only plan he and his staff could think of was to send the 60th to Rohtuck, consigning me and my officers, as every one believed, to certain death. (S)

  The night before we left Paneeput, we British officers were entertained at dinner by the officers of the 1st European Fusiliers, who thought, as we did ourselves, that we were going to certain death, and when our healths were drunk we were assured that they would erect a monument to our memories. A number of us had been at the Honourable East India Company’s military college, Addiscombe, at the same time as many of them, and some of the young officers quite recently, and although we knew very well that our chances of ever again seeing other white faces than our own were slight, it did not spoil our dinners, or the fun of the evening.

  With regret and disappointment at the idea of not joining, as we thought, in the attack on Delhi, we marched out of Paneeput at an early hour the following morning for Rohtuck, a town some fifty or sixty miles east of Paneeput. As we marched through the city the British officers were treated with jeers, and in several instances with stones or brickbats. A new commanding officer, Colonel T. Seaton, afterwards Sir Thomas Seaton, K.C.B., had joined us just before we left Umballah.

  On the 27th May, the regiment halted at a grove of mango-trees, and a young sepoy of the Grenadiers deliberately tried to inflame one of his officers with his insubordinate behaviour, and Seaton had to intervene before the situation got out of hand. He called him up before him, and, instead of punishing him, he gave him a lecture, and said that as he was generally a well-behaved man, he forgave him. The man, who had been expecting at least to be court-marshalled, was quite taken aback and subdued, and a dangerous situation averted. (W)

  On the next march some of the camp followers were murdered by the local inhabitants in quest of plunder.

  The heat was now terrible. The country, a succession of undulating sandy ridges and mounds, was covered with a low prickly bush, and except along the banks of the canal, where there were a few fields still green, there was not the slightest appearance of verdure. As we approached Rohtuck, which is not far from the Bickaneer country, the country assumed a very desolate appearance . . . and the hot wind as we marched along blew with fury.

  Our only plan to keep ourselves cool in camp was to pile up loosely in the doorways of our tents on the windward side, the little prickly bushes before mentioned. When these were well sprinkled with water, the wind rushing through them was cooled by evaporation, and the atmosphere of the tent was rendered bearable.

  The day we reached Rohtuck I made a long march of eighteen miles, being anxious to get there to meet the Hurrianah Light Infantry. I intended to address the 60th, point to the men as cowards who had debased their name and sex by the murder of helpless women and children, and then try to brin
g them into collision before any communication could pass between them. It was our only hope to save the regiment; and if, whilst I was addressing the men, or we were preparing to attack the mutineers, the 60th should show signs of turning against us, being armed and mounted, and our horses at hand, we should stand a better chance of escape than if the regiment were to break into revolt at night, or attack us when unarmed and unprepared. I marched at 11 pm, at which hour there was a hot parching sand blowing in our faces, bringing from the Bickaneer Desert clouds of light sand and dust that filled our eyes and choked our nostrils. Let my readers fancy a strong March wind with the heat of the fiercest day in July they can remember, and they will have a faint resemblance of that through which we painfully toiled. The march was most painful to all of us; we had not slept at all during the day, nor much during the preceding night, and as the wind abated a little towards one o’clock, sleep tried to creep over our eyes. I was obliged to dismount from my horse and walk; to keep my eyes open; but as I moved along I fell asleep, and was wakened by a stumble that nearly brought me to the ground, an incident which happened several times. (S)

  On another day’s march, one of the sepoys, a recruit, dropped his lotah, a brass drinking vessel, down a well when drawing water. On the bugle sounding the ‘fall-in’, the men refused to do so, giving as their excuse that the man could not go without his lotah. Colonel Seaton, who could read their thoughts, as it were, went up to the well, and asked the lad how much the lotah had cost him. On his replying ‘four rupees’, the colonel took that sum out of his pocket and, handing it over, said, ‘Here, buy another one, and let the villagers have your old one.’ The lad smiled and pocketed the money. Then the colonel, turning towards the men, said, ‘Now that is settled, fall in.’ The whole regiment did so at once. They were foiled in getting an excuse for another mutiny. If the usual method of enforcing discipline had been attempted, the well would probably have been our [the officers‘] tomb.’ (W)