CHAPTER VII
Weighed in the Balance
The principal causes of the great mutiny having now been explained, letus go back to Meerut and its eighty-five mutineers. These men weresentenced to long terms of imprisonment, and in the presence of thesepoy regiments the fetters were placed upon their limbs. The sight ofthe degradation angered and alarmed their comrades, and rumours spreadthrough the town to the effect that all the black soldiers were to bedisgraced in the same way, and at this date no report was too ridiculousfor the sepoys.
On the Sunday evening, 10th May, the 60th Rifles assembled for churchparade. At once the rumour flew round that the white soldiers werepreparing to fall upon their brown comrades, and the absurd tale gainedready credence. The sepoys were taunted by the women of the town, werecalled cowards for permitting their comrades to suffer disgrace; and nosooner had the Rifles marched off to church than the native troops lostall control of themselves, broke open the jail, set their eighty-fivecomrades free, and, encouraged by the convicts, they began to fire onthe white residents.
All the _budmashes_ of Meerut joining in, pandemonium ensued. Houseswere broken into and set on fire; Englishmen and women were brutallymurdered. Yet whilst this was going on in one part of the town, inanother quarter the sepoys of the same regiments were saluting theirofficers and guarding the Treasury as usual.
Back came the 60th Rifles from church and quickly reassembled with armsand ammunition, but by this time the mutineers were on the road toDelhi. Though the British dragoons were at once ordered out, theircommanding officer could not grasp the need for prompt punishment. Heallowed the roll to be called in the ordinary way, wasting preciousmoments, whilst the rebel sepoys were hastening nearer and nearer to theimperial city.
Night fell quickly, and as the general commanding did not know which waythe rebels had fled, he did not order pursuit, arguing that the troopsmust remain behind to protect the residents of Meerut from the thousandsof _budmashes_ and escaped jail-birds.
Had the dragoons at Meerut been ordered down the road to Delhi (for thegeneral might easily have guessed that the rebels would take thatdirection), the 60th Rifles and the Artillery were strong enough to haveswept all the _budmashes_ in Meerut out of existence; and the dragoonswould certainly have overtaken and destroyed the two foot regiments, andmight have come up with the 3rd Native Cavalry. In the face of theBritish horsemen the populace of Delhi would not have dared tosympathize with the mutineers; the revolt would perhaps have died out,and the terrible massacres of Delhi, Cawnpore, and other places mightnever have occurred. But it is easy to be wise after the event, and thegeneral commanding at Meerut, though a brave man, was not a far-seeingone. He was content to save and defend his own station, failing torecognize that a spark kindled in Delhi, the real capital of India,would set the whole land ablaze. As it was, the mutineers, scared out oftheir wits by the fear of a terrible retribution, hearing in theirfrightened imaginations the thundering of the dragoons behind them, gotsafely into Delhi and attempted to rouse that city against theFeringhis. But the people of Delhi said one to another:
"No! The English will be here presently with their terrible horsemen andstill more terrible artillery. Let us take no part in this!"
But not a British soldier was in sight next day from the city walls, andthe rumour soon gained ground that all the white troops in Meerut hadbeen slain, and that Allah had taken from them their vigour and theircourage. "The Feringhis are _lachar_[4]!" was the cry.
[4] helpless.
And the populace and the sepoys around Delhi joined their brethren fromMeerut, proclaiming Bahadur Shah, the old gentleman poet, "Emperor ofall India"; they massacred the fifty English men and women in the city,and before many days had passed most of the regiments throughout Bengaland the Punjab were on the brink of mutiny, hesitating to take theplunge. Had there been at Meerut on that fatal Sunday a Lawrence or anEdwardes, a Cotton, Nicholson, or Neill, the revolt might have beencrushed with one decisive blow.
So the news brought to our friends at Aurungpore was too true. Throughthe whole land, from Peshawur to Calcutta, spread the black terror, andthough most officers of sepoy regiments trusted their own particularcorps, each feared lest other regiments should throw off theirallegiance and murder without remorse not only the officers, but theChristian women and children of the towns.
The colonel and officers of the 193rd never doubted that their belovedregiment would prove true to its salt, for the most friendly feelingexisted between officers and men. Some of the former had more than oncerisked their lives for their men, and in return several of the sepoyshad rescued their officers from situations of great peril by theirpluck and devotion.
Terrible as were many of the acts committed by the mutineers, we mustnot consider them as so many fiends in the shape of men, nor must webelieve that their delight was to shed human blood. In 1857 the sepoywas a madman inflamed with rage and bitter hatred against those whom hemistakenly considered his oppressors; and many who suffered most fromhis fury were in truth his best friends and well-wishers.
Most inconsistent were his actions, and his character was a mass ofcontradictions. He was simple and credulous as a child, and at the sametime crafty and designing; his cruelty was frequently evident, and nevermore so than in this terrible year, yet as a rule he was gentle andkindly. It was no uncommon sight for the hardened sepoy warrior to befound watching beside his English officer's sick-bed, and no woman couldbe a more gentle nurse; he was devoted to his sahib's children, andloved to make them happy. Generally he was languid and indolent, yetcapable of being roused to passionate energy; at times light-hearted andcheerful, at times depressed and given to brooding over his wrongs, bothreal and fancied. Mutinies had not been unknown before the year 1857,but on previous occasions the outbreaks had resembled the naughtiness ofa child, and like a child the sepoy usually injured himself more thanothers.
Though no condemnation of those who participated in the murdering ofwomen and children can be too severe, yet we must not paint the sepoy incolours too black. Let us try to put ourselves in his place, and seewhat it meant. Suppose that he honestly believed that the English wereseeking his destruction, can we not imagine his despair and panic? Manyof the mutineers, however, believed the explanations of their Englishofficers, and felt assured that the cartridge-paper contained nooffensive matter, and these men tried to put everything right. And whatwas the result? Their comrades believed that these sensible sepoys hadsold themselves to the Feringhis; they were taunted and jeered at asChristians; they became outcasts, and none would eat with them. Not onlydid their fellow-soldiers shun them, but also their parents and brethrenand the people of the village who used to crowd round and bow beforethem when they visited their homes. They all refused friendship andconnection with the outcasts; the letters written home were neveranswered, and no wonder that these well-meaning fellows wereterror-stricken at the thought of their shameful position, and cursedthe English and their unclean ways that had brought this to pass.
Three days after the Meerut revolt Colonel Woodburn addressed his men onthe subject of the crisis. Assuring them of the mighty power of England,and of the terrible punishment that would be meted out to rebels, hereminded them of their glorious regimental history, and asked if theywould willingly tarnish their good name. Ted's heart glowed as helistened to the stirring speech, and the men broke into a shout ofenthusiasm, cheered their colonel, and Pir Baksh, stepping forward,expressed their willingness to march against the mutineers. At mess theofficers congratulated one another, overjoyed at the splendid spiritanimating those under their command.
With renewed courage and in the highest spirits they buckled on theirswords for the next morning's parade.
"I hope we shall get orders to march against the mutineers," Tedconfided to Paterson as they walked towards the parade-ground in frontof the arsenal.
"And what would happen to our countrymen and country-women atAurungpore if the regiment left?" his chum asked with a laugh. "Wouldyou mak
e the rebels a gift of the fort and arsenal?"
Ted was crestfallen.
"Oh! I'd forgotten them," he replied. "Still, half the regiment would beenough to defend the town. I'm jolly glad our men are showing such agood spirit, but I'm afraid for Jim and Spencer. I don't suppose theirGuides are likely to remain loyal very long."
"I've been thinking of them all morning," Alec observed musingly, "andof all Spencer was telling us the night he was here. I don't thinkthere's much doubt but that those fellows will sell themselves to thehighest bidder, and he will be the emperor at Delhi. They may pullthrough all right though, if they are within reach of Nicholson. He andEdwardes will be towers of strength along the frontier."
"Don't it make you mad to think of the way they bungled it at Meerut?Whoever was responsible for such a fiasco ought to be kicked out of thearmy."
"Now, Ted Russell, you know nothing about it," the cautious Scotreproachfully asserted. "It's very easy to say afterwards what ought tohave been done, but we don't know all the circumstances. Here's thecolonel. He's a fine-looking man, and no wonder the sepoys are proud ofhim."
The companies were called to attention, numbered, and wheeled into line.Before the wheel was completed a sepoy suddenly levelled his musket andpulled the trigger. Two officers at once rushed towards the would-beassassin, but were met by the fire of some twenty men of the samecompany, and fell riddled with bullets.
One-half of the sepoys stood irresolute--some fingering their triggersmenacingly; others, taken by surprise, screamed, "No, no, we must notslay our officers!"
"Nay, slay them all!" roared a subadar, "whether we love them or not! Ifwe do not kill them they will persuade us against our will!"
And a shrill clamour approved the advice.
Still five hundred men hesitated. Some of the waverers shouted to theEnglishmen, urging them to run. It was as though they had been bitten bya mad dog, and, while yet sane, knowing that the poison was working intheir veins, they wished to save bloodshed before the madness shouldoverpower them and render them pitiless.
Almost broken-hearted by this proof that his trusted regiment hadmutined, Colonel Woodburn lifted up his voice in a last appeal to theirloyalty. Before he had spoken a dozen words, Pir Baksh--dreading lestthe colonel's influence should wreck his plans, even when success seemedassured--stepped behind a crowd of gesticulating sepoys and tookdeliberate aim.
Colonel Woodburn fell from his horse grievously wounded, and Ted and oneof the subalterns dashed forward to convey him to a place of safety.Captain Markham placed himself at the head of his own hundred men andappealed to them, for the sake of all they had gone through together, toremain loyal and true. His company, composed of Hindustanis--mostlyRajputs--stood silent and puzzled, undecided how to act, when shots fromsome Mohammedans of the flank company answered his appeal, and thewell-loved captain fell.
There was no longer any indecision among Markham's Rajputs. Pity for themurdered officer who had done so much for them, anger that he should beshot by the Moslems whom they did not love, these feelings turned thescale. Hastily closing round their captain they guarded his body andmenaced the mutineers. The remaining officers, seeing one faithfulcompany, placed themselves at its head, and called on the other Hindusto remain loyal and fight the Mussulmans. But the madness had worked bynow: all the rest cast in their lot with the murderers, and, firing afew shots at Englishmen and faithful sepoys, whom they dared not charge,so great was still the influence of the officers, they rushed off toloot the town and shops.
Including Markham, three officers were killed and two badly wounded, twoof the slain being brother ensigns of Ted--poor little "griffins", whohad been out but a few months.
Then swift as lightning came the thought, "What of the women andchildren and civilians?" The appearance of the revolted sepoys would bethe signal for all the _budmashes_ of the _bazar_ to join in the riotingand murder.
A noise of firing and a babel of fiendish yells from the English quarterof the town, in close proximity to the fort, told their own tale. Thewhite residents were being attacked!
"Lieutenant Lowthian," commanded the major, "remain here with EnsignsTynan and Russell and about twenty men! We'll take our wounded with us,the women will attend to them; and when we've cleared the streets we'llbring the civilians into the fort."
Exhorting the faithful Rajputs to remain true to their salt and so wineternal fame, the major ordered bayonets to be fixed, and headed thecharge down the street, the wounded with their guard bringing up therear.
A disorderly crowd of sepoys and riff-raff of the town had assembled infront of the large house of Sir Arthur Fletcher, the Commissioner of thedistrict. The windows were being fired into and the doors battered down,in spite of a determined resistance from the inmates. Into the crowdcharged the loyal sepoys. Firing a single volley at close quarters theyat once let the rioters taste cold steel, and beneath the gallantmajor's sword fell more than one of the ringleaders.
Major Munro was known as one of the strongest officers and bestswordsmen in the army, and the mob gave back before his flashing steeland the glistening bayonets of his followers. But as the sepoysrecoiled, a number of Wahabis, showering curses upon the faint-hearted,poured with knives and swords down upon the little band. The leader wasall but lost. Separating him from his men, half a dozen fanatics set onhim at once, yelling triumphantly. But the two who first came withinreach of that mighty arm quickly lay in the dust; the third received thepoint in his heart, and a fourth was cloven almost in twain.
Aghast at the fate of their comrades the others faltered. But Munro didnot wait to be attacked; stepping over the prostrate bodies he followedup the advantage gained, and the pandies shrank from that fatal sword.Joining forces once more, the sturdy band reached the house, and,standing with backs to the wall, they poured volley aftervolley--irregularly, but coolly and rapidly--into the dense,disorganized rabble, until at length the barricades were taken from thedoor, and one by one they were admitted.