Part 2 — CHAPTER II. (continued 2)

3d.—4 p. m. and I have only just got out of the saddle, and found on my arrival in camp the heaviest news that has yet reached us. Report says that Sir Henry is dead! The news wants confirmation, and God grant that it may be untrue. I should lose one of my best friends, and the country (in Lord Dalhousie's words on poor Mackeson) "one whose loss would dim a victory." I cannot write more to-day; the news has quite unnerved me.

4th.—Two letters have just arrived from General Havelock at Cawnpore. They were written at an interval of ten days, and mentioned his having had three successful fights, on the 12th, 15th, and 16th of July, and the reoccupation of Cawnpore. The first of these letters mentions a report that Sir Henry had died on the 4th July, of wounds received on the 2d; but the second letter, written ten days later, does not even allude to a circumstance of such importance, and the Sikh who brought it, and who left Havelock near Lucknow, on his way to its relief, maintains that it is not true, and that Sir Henry Lawrence was alive when he left, as letters were constantly passing from Havelock's camp to the "Burra Sahib." God grant, for his country's sake and for mine, that it be not true. To the country his death would be worse than the loss of a province; to me it would be the loss of my truest and most valued friend. I hope, yet fear to hope, that it may be a false report; yet what soldier would wish a more noble, a more brilliant end to such a career? Havelock has captured all the enemy's guns, and inflicted severe punishment. The destruction of Sir Hugh Wheeler and his party is fully confirmed, and Havelock was too late to save the unfortunate women and children, who were massacred in their prison, before his arrival, by their guards. Such fiends as these our arms have never met with in any part of the world. May our vengeance be as speedy as it will unquestionably be sure!

We (Hodson's Horse) are getting on very comfortably, and are going to start a mess on our own account, so as to be ready to march without difficulty when required.

5th.—To-day the accounts received from a native Commissariat Agent, arrived at Meerut from Lucknow, are positive as to Sir H. Lawrence being alive a fortnight after he was said to have died. This, if reliable, is good indeed. The letter I annex[38] from Colonel Tytler gives good news, and the man who brought the letter, says there were fourteen steamers and flats at Cawnpore when he left. The troops had taken Bithoor, the Nana's place, and at first it was uninjured, but the bodies of some English women were found inside the Nana's house, on which the European soldiers, excited to irresistible fury, destroyed every human being in the place, and then demolished the building, not leaving one stone upon another. The Nana himself, with his family, took refuge in a boat on the river, and the native accounts add that he sunk it, and all were drowned. This I strongly doubt; such Spartan heroism could scarcely exist in the mind of one who could violate and massacre helpless women and children. Indeed, I hope it is not true; for it is one of my aims to have the catching of the said Nana myself. The hanging him would be a positive pleasure to me. I trust the day of retribution is not far distant.

6th.—Small chance of much writing to-day, for just as I have got into camp, after some hours' attendance on the pleasure of the Pandies, who came out in force and threatened an attack, I find that I have to start on a long reconnoitring expedition, from which I cannot return till late at night. This is unfortunate, as I have much pen-work on hand, my necessary official writing being very onerous. I was obliged to write as long a letter as I could to Lord W. Hay, if but to thank him, in my own and others' name, for the comforts he so thoughtfully sent us.

I have a very complimentary letter from G. Barnes, the Commissioner, as well as some others, enough to turn one's head with vanity; but I have had bitter experience of its rottenness, and take the flattery at its full value, namely, "nil." I fear, from fresh reports arrived, that Havelock will not come and help us after all. They say he has the strictest orders to relieve Lucknow only, and that however much he may desire to march on to Delhi, it is out of his power to do so. It is true we do not want him. Delhi surely must be taken as soon as ever the reinforcements get down here from the Punjaub. Our rulers must then see the necessity for action.

7th.—I returned at three o'clock this morning from a forty miles' ride over the worst and wettest country I was ever in, and I am thoroughly exhausted, though everybody is wanting something, and I must attend to business first, and then to rest.

8th.—I could write nothing but official papers all the sedentary part of yesterday. I did not get in till 9 p. m. The news from below mentions good dear old Dr. Lyell as among the killed at Patna. Brave, noble fellow, his gallant spirit has led him to the front once too often. He had always as much of the warrior as of the surgeon in him. The report has again gained ground of dear Sir Henry's death, but my heart refuses credence to so great a misfortune. I do trust that when the 52d arrive, we may be allowed to do something better than this pot-shot work. Nicholson has come on ahead, and is a host in himself, if he does not go and get knocked over as Chamberlain did. The camp is all alive at the notion of something decisive taking place soon, but I cannot rally from the fear of dear Sir Henry's fate. How many of my friends are gone. My heart is divided between grief for those precious victims, and deep gratitude to God for my own safety and that of those dearest to me. May He in His mercy preserve me for further exertion and an ultimate reunion, and if not, His will be done. I have a letter from an unfortunate woman, a Mrs. Leeson, who was saved from the slaughter at Delhi, on May 11th, by an Affghan lad, after she had been wounded, and her child slaughtered in her arms. She is still concealed in the Affghan's house. I heard that there was a woman there, and managed to effect a communication with her, through one of the Guides, and to send her money, &c., and so I think the poor creature may be preserved till we enter Delhi, if we fail in getting her free before. I fear she is the only European, or rather the only Christian (for she herself is hardly European), left alive from the massacre. Her husband was the son of Major Leeson, and a clerk in a Government office in Delhi. I have sent one of our few prisoners up to Forsyth at Umbâla, whom we ironically call the "Maid of Delhi," though her age and character are questionable, and her ugliness undoubted. She actually came out on horseback, and fought against us like a fiend. The General at first released her, but knowing how mischievous she would be among those superstitious Mahommedans, I persuaded him to let her be recaptured, and made over for safe custody. It is a moot point whether any assault will be made as soon as the 52d arrive. I can only go on hoping, but I confess I am not very sanguine about anything being done now.

Our General, since his illness, has got a still weaker dread of responsibility, and ceased to be nearly as vigorous even as heretofore. Would indeed that we had had Sir H. Lawrence here; that he may have been, and still be spared to us, is my prayer! The consequences of longer delay will be more and more disastrous to the health of the troops. Captain Daly has not formally reassumed command of the Guides, though he virtually does all the sedentary work. By an arrangement which I cannot but think unwise, and which deprives the corps of two thirds of its value, they have separated the regiment into two, putting the cavalry into the Cavalry Brigade under Hope Grant, and the infantry at the other end of the camp under Shebbeare, and Major Reid of the Goorkhas, who commands all the posts and pickets on our right.

The Guides should not be separated, and should be kept as much apart as may be from other corps. No regiment in the world have done or will do better than they, with a little prudence, and under an officer whom they like and can trust. My own regiment is also in the Cavalry Brigade, and is very hard-worked. It is bad for a young and unformed corps, but there is such a scarcity of cavalry here, that I cannot even remonstrate, and I get no small amount of κῦδος for having so large a number of men fit to be put on duty within two months of receiving the order to raise a regiment. I shall have two more troops in with the 52d, and Nicholson has given me fifty Affghans, just joined him from Peshawur, which, added to thirty coming with Alee Reza Khan from Lahore, will complete an Affghan troop as a counterpoise to my Punjaubees.[39]

We expect the movable column on the 12th or 13th, weather permitting, and some other troops a day or two after. Sir P. Grant is supposed to be at Cawnpore, but we have no tidings later than Colonel Tytler's letter. There is no actual fighting going on here, nothing except the usual cannonade. The rebels bring out guns on all sides, and fire away day and night, but bring no troops forward, and as we act strictly on the defensive, we merely reply to their guns with ours. The whole affair is reduced to a combat of artillery, our leader's favorite arm, excellent when combined with the other two, but if he expects to get into Delhi with that alone, I guess he will find himself mistaken. The news of disaffection in the city is daily confirmed. On the 7th a powder manufactory exploded, and they suspended the minister, Hakeem Ahsanoolah, and searched his house; there they found a letter which had been sent him, concocted by Moulvie Rujub Alee, which confirmed their suspicions, so they plundered and burnt his house, while he himself was only saved by taking refuge in the palace with the King, his master, who it seems is kept close prisoner there, his sons giving all orders, and ruling with a rod of iron. They say, however, that the King has got leave to send his wives and women out of the Ajmere gate to the Kootub. I trust it may be so, for we do not war with women, and should be sadly puzzled to know what to do with them as prisoners.

August 11th.—The bridge over the Jumna resists all efforts for its destruction. Our engineers have tried their worst, and failed. I have tried all that money could do, to the extent of 6,000 rupees, but equally in vain. So there it remains for the benefit of the enemy, whose principal reinforcements come from that side of the city. Two messengers of my own, arrived from Lucknow, leave little hope of dear Sir Henry's life having been spared. I grieve as for a brother....

Talking of jealousies, one day, under a heavy fire, Captain —— came up to me, and begged me to forget and forgive what had passed, and only to remember that we were soldiers fighting together in a common cause. As I was the injured party, I could afford to do this. The time and place, as well as his manner, appealed to my better feelings, so I held out my hand at once. Now-a-days, we must stand by and help each other, forget all injuries, and rise superior to them, or, God help us! we should be in terrible plight.

August 12th.—This morning a force under Colonel Showers moved down before daybreak towards the city, or rather the gardens outside the city gates, and gave the enemy, who had been ensconced behind the garden walls for a couple of days, and given our pickets annoyance, a good thrashing, taking four of their guns, and inflicting a heavy loss. All were back in camp by 7 p. m., so it was a very comfortable little affair. Our fellows did admirably. Captain Greville captured one gun with a handful of men, getting slightly wounded in the act. Showers himself, Coke, and young Owen, were also wounded, and poor young Sheriff of the 2d mortally so; the loss among the men was small in proportion to the success. The return to camp was a scene worth witnessing, the soldiers bringing home in triumph the guns they had captured, a soldier, with musket and bayonet fixed, riding each horse, and brave young Owen astride one gun, and dozens clinging to and pushing it, or rather them, along with might and main, and cheering like mad things. I was in the thick of it by accident, for I was looking on as well as I could through the gloom, when Coke asked me to find Brigadier Showers and say he was wounded, and that the guns were taken. I found Showers himself wounded, and then had to find a field-officer to take command, after which, I assisted generally in drawing off the men—the withdrawal or retirement being the most difficult matter always, and requiring as much steadiness as an attack.

August 13th.—I wish I could get some pay, but money is terribly scarce and living dear; my favorite beverage, tea, particularly so. I have therefore sent to Umbâla for some.

Ghoolab Singh's death is unfortunate at this juncture, but I fancy we have too much to do just now to interfere with the succession; we ought not to do so according to treaty, and if Jowahir Singh tries to recover the country from his cousin, Runbeer Singh, the King's son, why that is his affair, not ours—though we should never be contented to let them fight it out and settle it themselves. Poor Light has been brought very low by dysentery, and can hardly crawl about, but about he persists in going, brave fellow as he is. What a contrast to ——, who has got away, sick or pretending to be so, to the hills,—anything to escape work. Greville is, I am thankful to say, not badly wounded, and as plucky as ever. All well at Agra; no news from below.

August 14th.—On returning from a rather disheartening reconnaissance to-day, I found letters which soothed and comforted my weary spirit, just as a sudden gleam of sunlight brightens a gloomy landscape, and brings all surrounding objects into light and distinctness.

I am no croaker, but I confess sometimes it requires all one's trust in the God of battles, and all the comforting and sustaining words of those nearest and dearest to us, to bear up boldly and bravely through these weary days. A letter from good Douglas Seaton was among them. He little thought that so soon after his departure we should all be moving downwards, and that I should receive his letter in his brother's tent in "Camp before Delhi;" his own dearly loved regiment[40] "next door" to us. How wonderfully uncertain everything is in India. I am interrupted by orders to start to-night for Rohtuck, and must go and make arrangements.