At the Point of the Bayonet: A Tale of the Mahratta War

by G. A. Henty

  AT THE POINT OF THE BAYONET:

  A Tale of the Mahratta War

  by

  G. A. HENTY.

  Illustrated by Wal Paget.

  1901

  Contents

  Preface. Chapter 1: A Faithful Nurse. Chapter 2: A Strange Bringing Up. Chapter 3: A Change In Affairs. Chapter 4: A British Resident. Chapter 5: Down To Bombay. Chapter 6: In The Company's Service. Chapter 7: An Act Of Treachery. Chapter 8: Nana's Release. Chapter 9: A Popular Tumult. Chapter 10: A Mission By Sea. Chapter 11: A Prisoner. Chapter 12: The Defence Of Johore. Chapter 13: The Break Up Of The Monsoon. Chapter 14: The Great Andaman. Chapter 15: Assaye. Chapter 16: A Disastrous Retreat. Chapter 17: An Escape. Chapter 18: An Awkward Position. Chapter 19: Bhurtpoor. Chapter 20: Home.

  Illustrations

  For a year he worked with the shikaree. Harry went up to him and salaamed. Harry . . . saw a party of soldiers coming along the road. There was a little haggling over the terms. Harry ran up to the proclamation and tore it down. As he rode through the streets he saw . . . how fierce a feeling of resentment had been excited by the news. 'Well, sir, I will now return to shore,' the governor said. Without a cry the rajah fell back, shot through the head. The rattle of musketry broke out again. Plan of the Battle of Assaye. Plan of the Battle of Laswaree. Harry succeeded in crossing the river. Abdool at once slipped down. Harry drew out his handkerchief, and waved it. View of the Rajah's Palace, Bhurtpoor.

  Preface.

  The story of the war in which the power of the great Mahrattaconfederacy was broken is one of the most stirring pages of thecampaigns which, begun by Clive, ended in the firm establishment ofour great empire in the Indian Peninsula. When the struggle began,the Mahrattas were masters of no small portion of India; theirterritory comprising the whole country between Bombay and Delhi,and stretching down from Rajputana to Allahabad; while in the souththey were lords of the district of Cuttack, thereby separatingMadras from Calcutta. The jealousies of the great Mahratta leaders,Holkar and Scindia, who were constantly at war with each other, orwith the Peishwa at Poona, greatly facilitated our operations; andenabled us, although at the cost of much blood, to free a largeportion of India from a race that was a scourge--faithless,intriguing and crafty; cruel, and reckless of life. The Mahrattas,conquering race as they were, yet failed in the one virtue ofcourage. They could sweep the land with hordes of wild horsemen,could harry peaceful districts and tyrannize over the towns theyconquered; but they were unable to make an effective stand againstBritish bayonets and British sabres. They were a race offreebooters; and even the most sentimental humanitarian can feel noregret at the overthrow of a power that possessed no single claimto our admiration, and weighed like an incubus upon the peoples itoppressed. The history of the Mahrattas, as written by Grant Duff,whose account I have, throughout, followed, is one long record ofperfidy, murder, and crime of all sorts.

  Chapter 1: A Faithful Nurse.

  On a swell of ground, in the wild country extending from Bombay tothe foot of the Ghauts, stood a small camp. In the centre was alarge pavilion; the residence, for the time, of Major Lindsay, anofficer whose charge was to keep the peace in the district. It wasno easy matter. The inhabitants, wild and lawless, lived in smallvillages scattered about the rough country, for the most partcovered with forest, and subject to depredations by the robberbands who had their strongholds among the hills. Major Lindsay hadwith him a party of twenty troopers, not for defence--there waslittle fear of attack by the natives of the Concan--but to add tohis authority, to aid in the collection of the small tax paid byeach community, and to deter the mountain robbers from descendingon to the plain. He generally spent the cool season in going hisrounds while, during the hot weather, his headquarters were atBombay.

  He had with him his wife and infant child. The child was some threemonths old, and was looked after by an ayah, who had been in MajorLindsay's service ten years; for three elder children had been bornto him--all, however, dying from the effects of the climate beforereaching the age of five. The ayah had nursed each, in succession,and had become greatly attached to the family, especially to heryoungest charge. She had come to speak English well; but with thechild she always talked in her native tongue, as the major saw theadvantage it would prove to the boy, when he grew up, to be able tospeak fluently one, at least, of the native languages.

  The nurse was a Mahratta. She had been in the service of theBritish Resident at Poona and, when he was recalled, had enteredthat of Major Lindsay, at that time a captain who acted assecretary to the Resident.

  A young officer from Bombay had just ridden out, to spend a day ortwo with the major, and was sitting with him at the entrance to thetent.

  "The news from the army," he said, "is most unsatisfactory. As youknow, to the astonishment of everyone Colonel Egerton was appointedto the command, in spite of the fact that he was so infirm as to bealtogether unfit for active service; and Mostyn, our late Residentat Poona, and Carnac accompanied him as deputies of the Council."

  "That is altogether a bad arrangement," the major said. "It hasalways been a great disadvantage for a general to be accompanied bycivilians, with power to thwart his combinations. Against Mostyn'sappointment no one could raise any objection as, having been forsome years at Poona, he understands the Mahrattas, and indeed ismuch liked by them, so that in any negotiations he would have farmore chance of success than a stranger; but Carnac is hot headedand obstinate, with a very high idea of his own importance, and itis certain that there will be difficulties between him andEgerton."

  "I am sorry to say, Major, that these anticipations were veryspeedily verified. As you know, the advance party landed at Aptee,on November 23rd, and seized the roads over the gorge; and on the25th the main body disembarked at Panwell. No sooner had they gotthere than there was a quarrel between Egerton and Carnac. Mostunfortunately Mostyn, who would have acted as mediator, was takenill on the very day after landing, and was obliged to return toBombay; and I hear there is hardly any chance of his recovery. Thearmy did not reach the top of the Ghauts till the 23rd ofDecember--instead of, at the latest, three days after landing--andactually spent eleven days before it arrived at Karlee, only eightmiles in advance of the Bhore Ghauts. Of course this encouraged theenemy, and gave plenty of time for them to assemble and make alltheir arrangements and, when we last heard, they were harassing ourmarch. For the past two days no news has arrived, and there seemsto be little doubt that the Mahrattas have closed in round theirrear, and cut off all communications."

  "It is monstrous that they should march so slowly. The whole thinghas been a hideous blunder, and the idea of encumbering a force offour thousand men with something like thirty thousand campfollowers, and with a train of no less than nineteen thousandbullocks, to say nothing of other draught animals, is the mostpreposterous thing I ever heard of. In fact, the whole thing hasbeen grossly mismanaged.

  "I don't say that the conduct of the Mahrattas has not for sometime been doubtful, if not threatening. It is well known that theGovernor General and the Council at Calcutta have most stronglydisapproved of the whole conduct of the Council at Bombay. Indeed,no explanation has ever been given as to why they took up the causeof Rugoba, the scoundrel who grasped the crown; and who was privyto, if he did not instigate, the murder of his nephew, the youngPeishwa.

  "He was not unopposed, for Nana Furnuwees and Hurry Punt, two ofthe leading Mahratta ministers, formed a regency under Gunga Bye,the widow of the murdered Peishwa. While matters were undecided,the Bombay Council opened communications wi
th Rugoba, who theythought was likely to be successful; and promised to assist him, ifhe would advance a considerable sum of money, and cede to theCompany Salsette, the small islands contiguous to Bombay andBassein, which had been captured from the Portuguese by theMahrattas--an altogether inexcusable arrangement, as the Mahrattaswere at peace with us, and Rugoba was not in a position to hand theislands over. That matter, however, was settled by sending anexpedition, which captured Salsette and Tannah in 1775, four yearsago. Since then Rugoba has become a fugitive and, without a shadowof reason, is making war against the whole force of the Mahrattaconfederacy; who, although divided amongst themselves andfrequently engaged in the struggles for supremacy, have unitedagainst us--for they say that Scindia, Holkar, and Hurry Punt arein command of their army. To send four thousand men, of whom lessthan six hundred are Europeans, against the whole Mahratta power isa desperate step.

  "I know we have fought and won against greater odds, many times inthe history of India; but our forces have always been well led,marched with the smallest amount of baggage possible, and made upfor inferiority in numbers by speed, activity, and dash. Here, onthe contrary, we have a force hampered to an unheard-of degree bybaggage and camp followers; with an invalid at its head, controlledby two civilians; and moving at a rate which, in itself, testifiesto divided councils and utter incompetency on the part of itscommander. It is almost impossible even to hope for success, undersuch conditions."

  "The lookout is certainly bad," the younger officer agreed."However, before now the fighting powers of the British soldierhave made up for the blunders of his commanders; and we may hopethat this will be the case, now."

  "If a disaster happen," the major said, "we shall have theMahrattas down at the gates of Bombay; and as soon as I hear arumour of it--and news travels wonderfully fast among thenatives--I shall return to the city."

  "Oh, I don't think you need fear anything of that sort, Major!Besides, this is not on the direct line between the Ghauts and thecity. And even if they find they cannot push on, I should say ourforce would be able to secure their retreat. The Mahratta horsewill never be able to break our squares; but of course, in thatcase we should have to abandon all our baggage and baggageanimals."

  "I agree with you that the Mahrattas would doubtless hang on theskirts of our force, and follow them down the Bhore Ghaut, and sowould not come anywhere near us; but they might detach flyingparties to burn and plunder, as is their custom. Brave as they are,the Mahrattas do not fight for the love of fighting, but simplyfrom the hope of plunder and of enlarging their territories.

  "Well, we may hope, in a day or two, to hear that a battle has beenfought, and that a victory has been won. Not that one victory wouldsettle the matter, for the Mahratta force consists almost entirelyof cavalry and, as we have only a handful, they would, if beaten,simply ride off and be ready to fight again, another day. If we hadpushed on and occupied Poona, directly we landed--which should havebeen easy enough, if the baggage train had been left behind, for itis but forty miles from Panwell to the Mahratta capital--theposition would have been altogether different. The Mahrattas wouldnot have had time to collect their forces, and we should probablyhave met with no opposition and, once in Poona, could have held itagainst the whole Mahratta force. Besides, it is certain that someof the chiefs, seeing that Rugoba was likely to be made Peishwa,would have come to the conclusion that it would be best for them toside with him.

  "Of course, the baggage should all have been left at Panwell and,in that case, the force could have entered Poona three days afterlanding, instead of delaying from the 25th of November until today,the 7th of January; and even now, at their present rate of advance,they may be another fortnight before they arrive at Poona. I don'tthink there has been so disgraceful a business since we first putfoot in India.

  "At any rate, I shall send Mary and the child down to Bombay,tomorrow. It is all very well to have her with me, when everythingis peaceable; but although I do not think there is any actual risk,it is as well that, in turbulent times like these, with nothing buta force under such incompetent leading between us and a powerfuland active enemy, she should be safe at Bombay."

  Just before daybreak, next morning, there was a sudden shout fromone of the sentries; who had for the first time been posted roundthe camp. The warning was followed by a fierce rush, and a largebody of horse and foot charged into the camp. The escort were, forthe most part, killed as they issued from their tents. The majorand his friend were shot down as they sallied out, sword in hand.The same fate befell Mrs. Lindsay.

  Then the Mahrattas proceeded to loot the camp. The ayah had thrustthe child underneath the wall of the tent, at the first alarm. AMahratta seized her, and would have cut her down, had she notrecognized him by the light of the lamp which hung from the tentridge.

  "Why, cousin Sufder," she exclaimed, "do you not know me?"

  He loosed his hold, and stood back and gazed at her.

  "Why, Soyera," he exclaimed, "is it you? It is more than ten yearssince I saw you!

  "It is my cousin," he said to some of his companions who werestanding round, "my mother's sister's child."

  "Don't be alarmed," he went on, to the woman, "no one will harmyou. I am one of the captains of this party."

  "I must speak to you alone, Sufder."

  She went outside the tent with him.

  "You have nothing to fear," he said. "You shall go back with us toJooneer. I have a house there, and you can stay with my wife.Besides, there are many of your people still alive."

  "But that is not all, Sufder. I was ayah to the major and hiswife--whom your people have just killed, and whom I loveddearly--and in my charge is their child. He is but a few monthsold, and I must take him with me."

  "It is impossible," Sufder replied. "No white man, woman, or childwould be safe in the Deccan, at present."

  "No one would see his face," the woman said. "I would wrap him up,and will give out that he is my own child. As soon as we get up theGhauts I would stain his face and skin, and no one would know thathe was white. If you will not let me do it, tell your men to cut medown. I should not care to live, if the child were gone as well ashis father and mother. You cannot tell how kind they were to me.You would not have me ungrateful, would you, Sufder?"

  "Well, well," the man said good naturedly, though somewhatimpatiently, "do as you like; but if any harm comes of it, mind itis not my fault."

  Thankful for the permission, Soyera hurried round to the back ofthe tent, picked up the child and wrapped it in her robe; and thenwhen, after firing the place, the Mahrattas retired, she fell inbehind them, and followed them in the toilsome climb up themountains, keeping so far behind that none questioned her. Once ortwice Sufder dropped back to speak to her.

  "It is a foolish trick of yours," he said, "and I fear that troublewill come of it."

  "I don't see why it should," she replied. "The child will come tospeak Mahratta and, when he is stained, none will guess that he isEnglish. In time, I may be able to restore him to his own people."

  The other shook his head.

  "That is not likely," he said, "for before many weeks, we shallhave driven them into the sea."

  "Then he must remain a Mahratta," she said, "until he is able tomake his way to join the English in Madras or Calcutta."

  "You are an obstinate woman, and always have been so; else youwould not have left your people to go to be servant among thewhites. However, I will do what I can for you, for the sake of mymother's sister and of our kinship."

  On the way up the hills Soyera stopped, several times, to pickberries. When they halted she went aside and pounded them, and thenboiled them in some water in a lota--a copper vessel--Sufder lenther for the purpose, and dyed the child's head and body with it,producing a colour corresponding to her own.

  The party, which was composed of men from several towns andvillages, broke up the next morning.

  "Have you money?" Sufder asked her, as she was about to start aloneon her journey.

 
"Yes; my savings were all lodged for me, by Major Lindsay, withsome merchants at Bombay; but I have twenty rupees sewn up in mygarments."

  "As to your savings, Soyera, you are not likely to see them again,for we shall make a clean sweep of Bombay. However, twenty rupeeswill be useful to you, and would keep you for three or four months,if you needed but, as you are going to my wife, you will not wantthem.

  "Take this dagger. When you show it to her, she will know that youcome from me; but mind, she is, like most women, given to gossip;therefore I warn you not to let her into the secret of this child'sbirth, for if you did so, half the town would know it in the courseof a day or two.

  "Now, I must go back with my men to join a party who are on theirway to fight the English. I should have gone there direct, but metthe others starting on this marauding expedition, which was so muchto the taste of my men that I could not restrain them from joining.I shall see you at Jooneer, as soon as matters are finished withthe English; then I shall, after staying a few days there, rejoinScindia, in whose service I am."

  Soyera started on her way. At the villages through which shepassed, she was questioned as to where she came from; and repliedthat she had been living down near Bombay but, now that the Englishwere going to fight the Mahrattas, she was coming home, having losther husband a few months before.

  As the road to Jooneer diverged widely from that to Poona, she wasasked no questions about the war. All were confident that thedefeat of the English was certain, now that Scindia and Holkar andthe government of the Peishwa had laid aside their mutualjealousies, and had joined for the purpose of crushing the whites.

  On arriving, after two days' journey, at Jooneer, she went to theaddress that Sufder had given her; but was coldly received by hiswife.

  "As it is Sufder's order, of course I must take you in," she said,"but when he returns, I shall tell him that I do not want anotherwoman and child in the house. Why do you not go to your own people?As you are Sufder's cousin, you must be the sister of Ramdass. Whyshould you not go to him?"

  "I will gladly do so, if you will tell me where he lives."

  "He has a small farm. You must have passed it, as you came along.It is about a mile from here."

  "I will go to him at once," Soyera said.

  "No, no," the woman exclaimed; "that will never do. You must stop aday or two here. Sufder would be angry, indeed, were he to findthat you did not remain here; and would blame me for it. I shouldbe willing enough for you to stay a week, or a month; that is adifferent thing from becoming an inmate of the house."

  "I will wait till tomorrow, for I have made a long two days'journey from the top of the Ghauts and, as I am not accustomed towalking, my feet are sore. In the morning I will go and see mybrother. I did not so much as know that he was alive. I feel surehe will take me in, willingly; for he is but two years older thanmyself, and was always kind to me."

  Accordingly the next morning she retraced her steps, and had nodifficulty in finding the farm of Ramdass. Choosing the time whenhe would be likely to be in for his dinner, Soyera walked up to thedoor of the house, which was standing open.

  As she stood there, hesitating, Ramdass came out. He was a man ofsome forty years of age, with a pleasant and kindly face. He lookedat her enquiringly.

  "Do you not know me, Ramdass?" she asked.

  "Why, 'tis Soyera!" he exclaimed. "And so you have come back, afterall these years--thirteen, is it not, since you went away?

  "Welcome back, little sister!" and he raised his voice, and called,"Anundee!"

  A young woman, two or three and twenty years of age, came to thedoor.

  "Wife," he said, "this is my sister Soyera, of whom you have oftenheard me speak.

  "Soyera, this is my wife. We have been married six years; but comein, and let us talk things over.

  "You have come home for good, I hope," he said. "So you too havemarried and, as you come alone with your child, have, I suppose,had the misfortune to lose your husband?"

  "Yes, I was alone in the world, and came hither not knowing whetheryou were alive or dead; but feeling sure of a welcome, if I foundyou."

  "And you were not mistaken," he said heartily.

  "Anundee, you will, I am sure, join me in the welcome; andwillingly give my sister and her child a place in our home?"

  "Assuredly. It will be pleasant for me, when you are in the fields,to have some one to talk to, and perhaps to help me about thehouse."

  Soyera saw that she was speaking sincerely.

  "Thank you, Anundee; you may be sure that I shall not be idle. Ihave been accustomed to work, and can take much off your hands; andwill look after your two children;" for two boys, three or fouryears old, were standing before her, staring at the newcomer.

  "That will be pleasant, Soyera; indeed, sometimes they hinder memuch in my work."

  "I am accustomed to children, Anundee, as I was for years nurse toEnglish children, and know their ways."

  "Well, now let us to dinner," Ramdass broke in. "I am hungry, andwant to be off again. There is much to do in the fields."

  The woman took a pot off the embers of a wood fire, and poured itscontents into a dish. The meal consisted of a species of pulseboiled with ghee, with peppers and other condiments added.

  "And how did you like being among the English, Soyera?"

  "I liked it very well," the woman said. "They are very kind andconsiderate to nurses and, although they get angry when thegorrawallah or other men neglect their duty, they do not punishthem as a Mahratta master would do. They are not double faced; whenthey say a thing they mean it, and their word can always betrusted. As a people, no doubt they are anxious to extend theirdominion; but they do not wish to do so for personal gain. They arenot like the princes here, who go to war to gain territory andrevenue. It was reasonable that they should wish to increase theirlands; for they are almost shut up in Bombay, with Salsette and theother islands occupied by us, who may, any day, be their enemies."

  Her brother laughed.

  "It seems to me, Soyera, that you have come to prefer these Englishpeople to your own countrymen."

  "I say not that, Ramdass. You asked me how I liked them, and I havetold you. You yourself know how the tax collectors grind down thepeople; how Scindia and Holkar and the Peishwa are always fightingeach other. Do you know that, in Bombay, the meanest man could notbe put to death, unless fairly tried; while among the Mahrattas menare executed on the merest excuse or, if not executed, aremurdered?"

  "That is true enough," Ramdass said; "none of the three princeswould hesitate to put to death anyone who stood in his way, and itseems strange to me that even the Brahmins, who would not take thelife even of a troublesome insect, yet support the men who havekilled scores of other people. But it is no use grumbling; thething has always been, and I suppose always will be. It is not onlyso in the Deccan, but in the Nizam's dominions, in Mysore and, sofar as I know, in Oude and Delhi. It seems so natural to us thatthe powerful should oppress the weak, and that one prince should goto war with another, that we hardly give the matter a thought; butthough, as you say, the English in Bombay may rule wisely, anddislike taking life, they are doing now just as our princesdo--they are making war with us."

  "That is true but, from what I have heard when the English sahibswere speaking together, it is everything to them that a princefavourable to them should rule at Poonah for, were Holkar andScindia to become all powerful, and place one of their people onthe seat of the Peishwa, the next step might be that a greatMahratta force would descend the Ghauts, capture Bombay, and slayevery white man in it."

  "But they are a mere handful," Ramdass said. "How can they think ofinvading a nation like ours?"

  "Because they know, at least they believe, that Scindia, Holkar,and the Peishwa are all so jealous of each other that they willnever act together. Then you see what they have done round Madrasand Bengal and, few as they are, they have won battles against thegreat princes; and lastly, my mistress has told me that, althoughthere are but few here, t
here are many at home; and they could, ifthey chose, send out twenty soldiers for every one there is here.

  "Besides, it is not these alone who fight. The natives enlist underthem, and aid them in their conquests; and this shows, at least,that they are well treated, and have confidence in the good faithof the English."

  "It is all very well, Soyera, to talk that way; but I would aswillingly believe that the stars will fall from the sky as thatthese Englishmen, who simply live in Bombay because we suffer themto do so, should ever conquer the Mahrattas, as they have subduedother portions of India where, as everyone knows, the people arenot warlike, and have always been conquered without difficulty.

  "Look at our power! At Delhi the emperor is a puppet in our hands,and it is the same in all the districts on the plain of the greatriver. The Rajpoots fear us, and even the Pindaries would not darecarry their raids into our country. That a small body of merchantsand soldiers should threaten us seems, to me, altogether absurd."

  "Well, brother, we will not argue about it. Time will show. As awoman of the Mahrattas, I trust that day will never come; but asone who knows the English, I have my fears. Of one thing I am sure,that were they masters here, the cultivators would be vastly betteroff than they are at present."

  Ramdass laughed.

  "What do you think of my sister's opinions, Anundee?"

  "I do not know what to think," the young woman said; "but Soyerahas seen much, and is a wise woman, and what she says are no idlewords. To us it seems impossible, when we know that the Mahrattascan place a hundred thousand horsemen in the field; but I own that,from what we know of the English, it might be better for peoplelike us to have such masters."

  "And now, Soyera," Ramdass said, when he returned from his work inthe evening, "tell us more about yourself. First, how did you learnwhere I was living?"

  "I learned it from the wife of our cousin Sufder."

  "How did you fall in with him?"

  "Well, I must tell you something. I had meant to keep it entirelyto myself, but I know that you and Anundee will keep my secret."

  "Assuredly we will. I am not a man to talk of other people'saffairs and, as to Anundee, you can trust her with your life."

  "Well, in the first place, I deceived you; or rather you deceivedyourself, when you said, 'I see that you have been married;' butthe children were here, and so I could not explain. The infant isnot mine. It is the son of my dear master and mistress, both ofwhom were killed, three days ago, by bands--of which Sufdercommanded one--who attacked them suddenly, by night."

  "What! Is the child white?" Ramdass asked, in a tone of alarm.

  "It is not white, because I have stained the skin; but it is thechild of English parents. I will tell you how it happened."

  And she related the instances of the attack upon the little camp,the death of her master and mistress, another white officer, andall their escort; told how she had hidden the child under the coverof the tent, how Sufder had saved her life, and her subsequentconversation with him regarding the child.

  "Now, what do you intend to do with him, Soyera?"

  "I intend to bring him up as my own. I shall keep his skin stained,and no one can suspect that he is not mine."

  "Then you do not think of restoring him to his people?"

  "Not until he grows up. He has neither father nor mother, and towhom could I hand him, now? Moreover if, as you say, our peopleintend to drive the English from Bombay, his fate would be certain.When I am by myself with him, I shall talk to him in English, assoon as he is old enough to understand that he must not speak inthat language to others; then, when he joins his own people, hewill be able to converse with them. In the ten years I have spentin English service I have come to speak their language well. ThoughI cannot teach him the knowledge of the English, I can do much tofit him to take his place as an Englishman, when the time comes."

  "It is a risky business," her brother said, "but I do not say thatit cannot be carried out; at any rate, since you have so decided tokeep him, I can see no better plan."

  Two days later, Sufder came in.

  "So you got here safely, Soyera?"

  "Yes, I had no trouble. But I did not expect you back so soon."

  "The matter is all settled, though I think we were wrong to grantany terms to the English. We had them in our power, and should havefinished the matter, straight off."

  Delay and inactivity, the natural consequences of utterincompetence and of divided councillors, had occurred. ColonelEgerton, in consequence of sickness, had resigned the command; andhad been succeeded by Lieutenant Colonel Cockburn. On the 9th ofJanuary they were within eighteen miles of Poona, and they hadstill three weeks' provisions with them. Two or three skirmisheshad taken place, but without any result; yet Mr. Carnac, withouthaving suffered any reverse, and now within a day's march of thecapital, proposed that a retreat should be made, at once.

  The proposal was combated by Captain Hartley, a gallant youngofficer, and Mr. Holmes of the Civil Service. Cockburn, beingcalled upon for his opinion, said he had no doubt the army couldpenetrate to Poona; but that it would be impossible for it toprotect its enormous baggage train. Mr. Carnac, however, persistedin his opinion, in spite of the prayers of Rugoba and, at eleveno'clock on the night of the 11th of January, the heavy guns werethrown into a large pool, a quantity of stores burnt, and the forcebegan its retreat, in face of enemies estimated differently at fromfifty to a hundred thousand men.

  Against such vigilant foes there was but little hope, indeed, thatthe movement would be unnoticed and, at two o'clock in the morning,a party of horse attacked the advance guard. Cockburn sent forwardtwo companies of Europeans to support them, but the Mahrattas hadsucceeded in plundering part of the baggage.

  In a very short time the rear was also attacked. This was coveredby some six companies of Sepoys, with two guns, commanded byCaptain Hartley. These received the charge of the enemy's horse andfoot with great steadiness and, several times, took the offensiveand drove their assailants back.

  When morning broke, the little force found themselves altogethersurrounded by the whole army of the Mahrattas. Hartley's Sepoyswere now sorely pressed, but still maintained their position, andwere reinforced by five companies of Europeans and two morecompanies of Sepoys. With this support, Hartley beat off everyattack. At ten o'clock he received orders from Colonel Cockburn toretreat, but the officer who carried the message returned, beggingthat he would allow Captain Hartley to await a more favourableopportunity. Cockburn agreed to this, but sent Major Frederick totake command of the rear, with orders to retire on the main body.This movement he effected without serious loss, and joined the restof the force at the village of Wurgaom.

  It was already crowded with camp followers, and the wildestconfusion reigned. The enemy's horse took advantage of this andcharged through the baggage, and the troops were unable to act witheffect, being mixed up with the crowd of fugitives. However, theysoon extricated themselves, drove off the enemy, and placed theguns in commanding positions round the village. At four o'clock theenemy retired.

  Early the next morning the Mahratta artillery opened fire on thevillage. Some of the Sepoy troops now became dispirited; butHartley's men stood firm, and the Mahrattas did not venture toattack. The loss on the previous day was found to amount to threehundred and fifty-two killed, wounded, or missing; including manywho had deserted during the night. Among the killed and woundedwere fifteen European officers, whose loss was a great misfortunefor, although the Sepoys fight well under their European officers,they lose heart altogether if not so led.

  Mr. Palmer, the secretary of the committee, was now sent tonegotiate with the enemy. The first demand made was the surrenderof Rugoba; which the committee would have agreed to, but Rugoba hadprivately arranged to surrender to Scindia. The next demand wasthat the committee should enter on a treaty, for the surrender ofthe greater part of the territory of the Bombay Government,together with the revenue of Broach and Surat. These terms were sohard that even the craven committe
e, who were entirely responsiblefor the disaster, hesitated to accept them.

  Cockburn was asked whether a retreat was wholly impracticable, andhe declared that it was so. Captain Hartley protested against thisopinion, and showed how a retreat could be managed. His opinion wasaltogether overruled, and Mr. Holmes was sent with powers toconclude the treaty--which, however, the committee never intendedto observe.

  Scindia took the principal part in arranging the details,superseding the authority of Nana Furnuwees, the Peishwa'sminister. Scindia's favour was purchased by a private promise tobestow upon him the English share of Broach, besides a sum offorty-one thousand rupees as presents to his servants.

  For their share in this miserable business Mr. Carnac, ColonelEgerton, and Colonel Cockburn were dismissed from the Company'sservice; and Captain Hartley was promoted to the rank of lieutenantcolonel. The Governor of Bombay refused to ratify the treaty, onthe ground that the officials with the expedition had no powerwhatever to enter into any arrangement, without the matter beingpreviously submitted to, and approved by, the Government.Fortunately, at this moment a force that had been despatched fromBengal, under Colonel Goddard, to support Rugoba was nearing thescene of action; and that officer, learning the danger to whichBombay was exposed, took the responsibility and, marching fromHoosingabad, avoided a body of twenty-two thousand horse, which hadbeen despatched from Poona to cut him off, and reached Suratwithout encountering any opposition.

  This welcome reinforcement materially altered the situation, andBombay lay no longer at the mercy of the Mahrattas. There was nowGoddard's force, and the army that had fallen back from Poona and,what was still more important, Scindia had by his secret conventiondeserted the confederacy; and it was morally certain that neitherthe Peishwa nor Holkar would send his forces against Bombay,leaving to Scindia the power of grasping the supreme authority inthe Deccan during their absence.

  In 1779 General Goddard, who was now in command at Bombay, enteredinto negotiations with Nana Furnuwees. These were carried on forsome months; but were brought to a conclusion by Nana declaringthat the surrender of Salsette, and the person of Rugoba, who wasagain a fugitive in Bombay, were preliminaries to any treaty.Bombay received a reinforcement of a European regiment, a battalionof Sepoys, and a hundred artillerymen, from Madras; but before theyarrived Goddard's force had captured Dubhoy, and a treaty had beeneffected.

  The town of Ahmedabad was to be handed over to our ally, FuttehSing; but it declined to surrender, and was taken by assault, thestorming party being commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Hartley.

  Scindia had as usual changed sides, and was now operating inconjunction with Nana; and he and Holkar, with twenty thousandhorse, marched to Baroda. Goddard advanced to give battle; butScindia, to gain time, opened negotiations.

  Goddard, however, was not to be duped. The negotiations were brokenoff, and he advanced against the Mahrattas. Their horse, as usual,charged; but were driven back by the artillery fire, and routed bya regiment of Bengal cavalry. Scindia, however, encamped a shortdistance off but, when Goddard again advanced to the attack,retired.

  Goddard, however, was not to be drawn into pursuit. He capturedsome small forts, and sent Colonel Hartley to relieve Kallan, whichwas being besieged by the Mahrattas. Hartley surprised their camp,pursued them for some miles, and killed a great number; whileLieutenant Welsh, who had been sent forward to relieve Surat--whichwas threatened by a large Mahratta force--defeated these, killedupwards of a hundred, and captured their guns; while one ofScindia's detachments, on the banks of the Nerbuddah, was routed bya detachment of Bengal Sepoys under Major Forbes.

  On the other side of India, great successes had been gained by aBengal force under the command of Captain Popham; who attacked androuted a body of plundering Mahrattas, captured by assault thestrong fort of Lahar, and not only carried by surprise the fortressof Gwalior, regarded by the natives as impregnable, but took itwithout the loss of a single man.

  In December, General Goddard laid siege to Bassein. He and Hartley,whose force was covering the siege, were attacked on the 11th ofthat month by twenty thousand cavalry and infantry. These, however,were defeated after making several desperate charges; and on thefollowing day another battle took place, in which the Mahrattaswere totally routed, and their general killed, after which Basseinsurrendered.