Note 131 — Chapter I

“On the morning of the 10th, Poett and Davis were obliged to retire from their posts, and the survivors here now assembled in the two houses held by Colonel Palmer and the head-quarters of the corps. You cannot picture to yourself the scene these two houses presented; every room was crammed not only with Sepoys, but camp-followers, men, women, and children, and it is astonishing the slaughter among them was not greater, seeing that the guns of the citadel sent round-shot crashing through and through the walls. I saw high-caste men groping in the mud, endeavouring to discover pieces of unmelted ice, that by sucking them they might relieve the thirst that tormented them. Certainly, when that morning dawned, I thought it was the last I should see on this earth, and so did we all, and proceeded to make a few little arrangements ere the final attack on us took place. The regimental colours were burned, to prevent their falling into the hands of the enemy; I destroyed my watch, and flung it, and what money I had, over the wall of the ditch; I also burnt my poor wife’s miniature, first cramming the gold frame of it into a musket, being determined that one of the Ghazees should have his bellyful of gold ere I died. Hour after hour passed on, and still we sate expecting every minute to hear the shout of the final attack; but it came not. From our loopholes we saw the enemy swarming all around us—in every lane and house, and on the hill of the citadel—the place was black with their masses; and as they themselves afterwards told us, there were not less than ten thousand men thirsting for our blood.”—[Lieutenant Crawford’s Narrative.]