In Times of Peril: A Tale of India

by G. A. Henty

  CHAPTER II.

  THE OUTBREAK.

  A week after the boar-hunt came the news that a Sepoy named MangulPandy, belonging to the Thirty-fourth Native Infantry, stationed atBarrackpore, a place only a few miles out of Calcutta, had, on the 29thof March, rushed out upon the parade ground and called upon the men tomutiny. He then shot the European sergeant-major of the regiment, andcut down an officer. Pandy continued to exhort the men to rise to arms,and although his comrades would not join him, they refused to make anymovement to arrest him. General Hearsey now arrived on the paradeground with his son and a Major Ross, and at once rode at the man, who,finding that his comrades would not assist him, discharged the contentsof the musket into his own body.

  Two days later the mutinous Nineteenth were disbanded at Barrackpore.On the 3rd of April Mangul Pandy, who had only wounded himself, washung, and the same doom was allotted to a native officer of hisregiment, for refusing to order the men to assist the officer attackedby that mutineer, and for himself inciting the men to rise against thegovernment.

  "What do you think of the news, papa?" Dick asked his father.

  "I hope that the example which has been set by the execution of theseringleaders, and by the disbandment of the Nineteenth, may have awholesome effect, Dick; but we shall see before long."

  It needed no great lapse of time to show that this lesson had beenineffectual. From nearly every station throughout Bengal and thenorthwest provinces came rumors of disaffection; at Agra, at Umballah,and at other places incendiary fires broke out with alarming frequency,letters were from time to time intercepted, calling upon the Sepoys torevolt, while at Lucknow serious disturbances occurred, and the SeventhRegiment were disarmed by Sir Henry Lawrence, the Commissioner of Oude.So the month of April passed, and as it went on the feeling of disquietand danger grew deeper and more general. It was like the anxious timepreceding a thunderstorm, the cloud was gathering, but how or when itwould burst none could say. Many still maintained stoutly that therewas no danger whatever, and that the whole thing would blow over; butmen with wives and families were generally inclined to take a moresomber view of the case. Nor is this to be wondered at. The Britishform an almost inappreciable portion of the population of India; theyare isolated in a throng of natives, outnumbered by a thousand to one.A man might therefore well feel his helplessness to render anyassistance to those dear to him in the event of a general uprising ofthe people. Soldiers without family ties take things lightly, they areready for danger and for death if needs be, but they can always hope toget through somehow; but the man with a wife and children in India, atthe time when a general outbreak was anticipated, would have thedeepest cause for anxiety. Not, however, that at this time any one atSandynugghur looked for anything so terrible. There was a spirit ofinsubordination abroad in the native troops, no doubt, but no onedoubted but that it would, with more or less trouble, be put down. Andso things went on as usual, and the garden parties and the drives, andthe friendly evening visiting continued just as before. It was at oneof these pleasant evening gatherings that the first blow fell. Most ofthe officers of the station, their wives, and the two or threecivilians were collected at Major Warrener's. The windows were allopen. The girls were playing a duet on the piano; five or six otherladies were in the drawing-room and about the same number of gentlemenwere standing or sitting by them, some four or five were lounging inthe veranda enjoying their cheroots; native servants in their whitedresses moved noiselessly about with iced lemonade and wine, when aSepoy came up the walk.

  "What is it?" asked Major Warrener, who was one of the group in theveranda.

  "Dispatch for the colonel, Sahib."

  The colonel, who was sitting next to the major, held out his hand forthe message, and was rising, when Major Warrener said:

  "Don't move, colonel; boy, bring a candle."

  The servant brought it: the colonel opened the envelope and glanced atthe dispatch. He uttered an exclamation which was half a groan, half acry.

  "Good Heaven! what is the matter, colonel?"

  "The native troops at Meerut have mutinied, have murdered theirofficers and all the European men, women, and children they could find,and are marching upon Delhi. Look after your regiment."

  A low cry broke from the major. This was indeed awful news, and for amoment the two men sat half-stunned at the calamity, while the sound ofmusic and merry talk came in through the open window like a mockery ontheir ears.

  "Let us take a turn in the compound," said the major, "where no one canhear us."

  For half an hour they walked up and down the garden. There could be nodoubt about the truth of the news, for it was an official telegram fromthe adjutant at Meerut; and as to the extent of the misfortune, it wasterrible.

  "There is not a single white regiment at Delhi," exclaimed the colonel;"these fiends will have it all their own way, and at Delhi there arescores of European families. Delhi once in their hands will be acenter, and the mutiny will spread like wildfire over India. What wasthe general at Meerut about? what were the white troops up to? It is asinexplicable as it is terrible. Is there anything to be done, major, doyou think?" But Major Warrener could think of nothing. The men atpresent knew nothing of the news, but the tidings would reach them intwo or three days; for news in India spreads from village to village,and town to town, with almost incredible speed, and Meerut was but ahundred and fifty miles distant.

  "Had we better tell them inside?" the major asked.

  "No," answered the colonel; "let them be happy for to-night; they willknow the news to-morrow. As they are breaking up, ask all the officersto come round to the messroom; I will meet them there, and we can talkthe matter over; but let the ladies have one more quiet night; theywill want all their strength and fortitude for what is to come."

  And so, clearing their brows, they went into the house and listened tothe music, and joined in the talk until ten o'clock struck and everyone got up to go, and so ended the last happy evening at Sandynugghur.

  The next morning brought the news of the rising at Delhi, but it wasnot till two days later that letters giving any details of theseterrible events arrived, and the full extent of the awful calamity wasknown.

  The flame broke out at Meerut at seven o'clock in the evening ofSunday, the 10th of May. On the previous day a punishment parade hadbeen held to witness the military degradation of a number of men of theThird Native Cavalry, who had been guilty of mutinous conduct inrespect to the cartridges. The native regiments at the stationconsisted of the Third Cavalry, the Eleventh and Twentieth Infantry;there were also in garrison the Sixtieth Rifles, the Sixth DragoonGuards, and two batteries of artillery; a force amply sufficient, ifproperly handled, to have crushed the native troops, and to have nippedthe mutiny in the bud. Unhappily, they were not well handled. Thecantonments of Meerut were of great extent, being nearly five miles inlength by two in breadth, the barracks of the British troops weresituated at some distance from those of the native regiments, and theaction of the troops was paralyzed by the incompetency of the general,an old man who had lost all energy, and who remained in a state ofindecision while the men of the native regiments shot their officers,murdered all the women and children, and the white inhabitants whosebungalows were situated at their end of their cantonment, opened thejail doors, and after setting fire to the whole of this quarter ofMeerut, marched off toward Delhi, unmolested by the British troops.Even then an orderly sent off with dispatches to the officer commandingat Delhi, informing him of what had happened, and bidding him beware,might have saved the lives of hundreds of Englishmen and women, even ifit were too late to save Delhi; but nothing whatever was done; theEnglish troops made a few meaningless and uncertain movements, andmarched back to their barracks. No one came forward to take the lead.So the white troops of Meerut remained stationary under arms all night,and the English population of Delhi were left to their fate.

  From Meerut to Delhi is thirty-two miles, and the mutineers of Meerut,marching all night, arrived near the town a
t eight in the morning.Singularly enough, the ancient capital of India, the place around whichthe aspiration of Hindoos and Mohammedans alike centered, and where theex-emperor and his family still resided, was left entirely to the guardof native troops; not a single British regiment was there, not abattery of white troops. As the center of the province, a large whitepopulation were gathered there-the families of the officers of thenative infantry and artillery, of the civil officers of the province,merchants, bankers, missionaries, and others. As at all other Indiantowns, the great bulk of the white inhabitants lived in the cantonmentsoutside the town; had it not been for this, not one would have escapedthe slaughter that commenced as soon as the Third Cavalry from Meerutrode into the town. The Fifty-fourth Native Infantry, who had hastilybeen marched out to meet them, fraternized with them at once, and,standing quietly by, looked on while their officers were murdered bythe cavalrymen. Then commenced a scene of murder and atrocity which ishappily without parallel in history. Suffice to say, that with theexception of some half-dozen who in one way or other managed to escape,the whole of the white population inside the walls of Delhi weremurdered under circumstances of the most horrible and revoltingcruelty. Had the news of the outbreak of Meerut been sent by a swiftmounted messenger, the whole of these hapless people would have hadtime to leave the town before the arrival of the mutineers. Those inthe cantonments outside the city fared somewhat better. Some werekilled, but the greater part made their escape; and although many weremurdered on the way, either by villagers or by bodies of mutineers, themajority reached Meerut or Aliwal. The sufferers of Delhi did not diewholly unavenged. Inside the city walls was an immense magazinecontaining vast stores of powder, cartridges, and arms. It wasall-important that this should not fall into the hands of themutineers. This was in charge of Lieutenant Willoughby of the royalartillery, who had with him Lieutenants Forrest and Rayner, and sixEnglish warrant and non-commissioned officers, Buckley, Shaw, Scully,Crow, Edwards, and Stewart. The following account was given byLieutenant Forrest:

  "The gates of the magazine were closed and barricaded, and everypossible arrangement that could be made was at once commenced. Insidethe gate leading to the park were placed two six-pounders doublycharged with grape. These were under acting sub-conductor Crow andSergeant Stewart, with lighted matches in their hands. Their orderswere that if any attempt was made to force the gate the guns were to befired at once, and they were to fall back to that part of the magazinewhere Lieutenant Willoughby and I were posted. The principal gate ofthe magazine was similarly defended by two guns and by the_chevaux-de-frise_ laid down in the inside. For the further defense ofthis gate and the magazine in its vicinity, there were two six-poundersso placed as to command it and a small bastion close by. Within sixtyyards of the gate, and commanding two cross roads, were threesix-pounders, and one twenty-four pound howitzer, which could be somanaged as to act upon any part of the magazine in that neighborhood.After all these guns and howitzers had been placed in the severalpositions above named, they were loaded with a double charge of grape.After these arrangements had been completed a train was laid ready tobe fired at a preconcerted signal. On the enemy approaching the wallsof the magazine, which was provided with scaling ladders, the nativeestablishment at once deserted us by climbing up the sloped sheds onthe inside of the magazine and descending the ladders on the outside."

  When the attack began the mutineers climbed the walls in great numbers,and opened fire upon the little garrison; these replied by an incessantfire of grape-shot, which told severely upon the enemy. There were buttwo men to each gun, but they stood nobly to their pieces until allwere more or less wounded by the enemy's fire. Finding that no morecould be done, Lieutenant Willoughby gave the order, Conductor Scullyfired the several trains, and in another instant a tremendous explosiontook place which shook all Delhi, and covered the city with a cloud ofblack smoke. It was calculated that from fifteen hundred to twothousand of the mutineers and rabble of the town were killed by thefalling walls, or crushed under the masses of masonry. LieutenantsWilloughby, Forrest, Rayner, and Conductor Buckley survived theexplosion, and effected their retreat in the confusion through a smallsallyport on the river face. The mutineers were so enraged by theirmisfortune that they rushed to the palace and demanded of the king anumber of European officers and ladies who had sought refuge under hisprotection. They were handed over to the mutineers, and at onceslaughtered.

  The Warreners listened with pale faces as their father, on his returnfrom the orderly-room, where the news had been discussed, told them thesad story.

  "There is nothing to be done, I suppose, papa?" Ned said gently.

  "No, my boy; we are in the hands of God. We must wait now for what maycome. At present the regiment professes its fidelity, and has nowvolunteered to march against the mutineers. The colonel believes them,so do some of the others; I do not; it may be that the men mean whatthey say at present, but we know that emissaries come and go, and everyfresh rising will be an incentive to them. It is no use blinking thetruth, dear; we are like men standing on a loaded mine which may at anymoment explode. I have been thinking, indeed for the last week I havedone nothing but think, what is best to be done. If the mutiny breaksout at night or at any time when we are not on parade, we have agreedthat all the whites shall make at once for Mr. Thompson's house. It isthe strongest of any of the residences--for there would of course be nogetting to the messhouse--and then we will sell our lives as dearly aswe may. If it happens when we are on parade, defense by the rest of theresidents would be useless. There are but six civilians, with you twoboys--for we have counted you--eight. Probably but few of you couldgain Thompson's house in time; and if all did, your number would be toosmall to defend it. There remains then nothing but flight. The risingwill most likely take place on parade. The residents have agreed thateach day they will, on some excuses or other, have their traps at theirdoor at that hour, so that at the sound of the first shot fired theymay jump in and drive off."

  "But, you, papa?" Kate asked.

  "My dear," said her father, "I shall be on duty; so long as a vestigeof the regiment remains as a regiment, I shall be with it; if the wholeregiment breaks up and attacks us, those who do not fall at the firstvolley will be justified in trying to save their lives. The colonel,the adjutant, and myself are mounted officers, and two or three of theothers will have their dogcarts each day brought up to the messhouse,as they often do. If there is a mutiny on parade, the unmountedofficers will make for them, and we who are mounted will as far aspossible cover their retreat. So it is arranged."

  "But will the road be open to Meerut, uncle?" Rose asked after a pause,for the danger seemed so strange and terrible that they felt stunned byit.

  "No, my dear; it certainly will not. There are three garrison townsbetween us, and they also will probably be up. The only thing is tokeep to the road for the first ten or twelve miles, and then take tothe woods, and make your way on foot. I have spoken to Saba thismorning. We can trust her; she nursed you all, and has lived with meever since as a sort of pensioner till you came out. I have asked herto get two dresses of Mussulman country women; in those only the eyesare visible, while the Hindoo dress gives no concealment. I have alsoordered her to get me two dresses: one, such as a young Mussulman_zemindar_ wears; the other, as his retainer. They are for you boys.Keep the bundles, when you get them, in that closet in the dining-room,so as to be close at hand; and in case of alarm, be sure and take themwith you. Remember my instructions are absolute. If by day, escape inthe trap at the first alarm; if the trap is not available, escape atonce on foot. If you hear the enemy are close, hide till nightfall inthat thick clump of bushes in the corner of the compound, then make forthat copse of trees, and try and find your way to Meerut. I trust I maybe with you, or that I may join you on the road. But in any case, itwill relieve my anxiety greatly to know that your course is laid down.If I had to return here to look for you, I should bring my pursuersafter me, and your chance of escape would be gone--for I rely upon youal
l to follow my instructions to the letter."

  "Yes, indeed, papa," was the unanimous answer of the young Warreners,who were deeply affected at the solemn manner in which their fatherspoke of the situation.

  "I have a brace of revolvers upstairs," he said, "and will give one toeach of you boys. Carry them always, but put them on under your coats,so that they may not be noticed; it would be as well for you topractice yourselves in their use; but when you do so, always go somedistance from the station, so that the sound will not be heard."

  "Can you give Rose and me a pistol each, too, papa?" Kate said quietly.

  Major Warrener kissed his daughter and niece tenderly.

  "I have a pair of small double-barreled pistols; you shall each haveone," he answered with a deep sigh.

  That afternoon the young Warreners and their cousin went out for awalk, and, fixing a piece of paper against a tree, practiced pistolshooting for an hour. Any passer-by ignorant of the circumstances wouldhave wondered at the countenances of these young people, engaged,apparently, in the amusement of pistol practice. There was no smile onthem, no merry laugh when the ball went wide of the mark, no triumphantshout at a successful shot. Their faces were set, pale, and earnest,Scarcely a word was spoken. Each loaded in silence, took up a place atthe firing point, and aimed steadily and seriously; the boys with anangry eye and frowning brow, as if each time they were firing at adeadly foe; the girls as earnestly, and without any of the nervousnessor timidity which would be natural in girls handling firearms for thefirst time. Each day the exercise was repeated, and after a week'spractice all could hit, with a fair amount of certainty, a piece ofpaper six inches square, at a distance of ten yards.

  During this time Captains Dunlop and Manners spent their whole time,when not engaged upon their military duties, at Major Warrener's. Theywere now the recognized lovers of Kate and Rose; and although, in thosedays of tremendous anxiety and peril, no formal engagements wereentered upon, the young people understood each other, and MajorWarrener gave his tacit approval. Very earnestly all the party hopedthat when the dread moment came it might come when they were alltogether, so that they might share the same fate, whatever it might be.The young officers' buggies now stood all day in Major Warrener'scompound, with the patient _syces_ squatting near, or talking with theservants, while the major's horses stood ready saddled in the stables.

  However much the party might hope to be together when the crisis came,they felt that it was improbable that they would be so, for at thefirst symptoms of mutiny it would be the duty of the officers to hastento the barracks to endeavor to quell it, even if certain death shouldmeet them there.

  In the face of the tidings from Meerut and Delhi, all the pretense ofconfidence, which had hitherto been kept up at the station, came to anend; and even had there been implicit confidence in the regiment, thenews of such terrible events would have caused an entire cessation ofthe little amusements and gatherings in which Sandynugghur hadpreviously indulged.

  As is usual in cases of extreme danger, the various temperaments ofpeople come strongly into relief at these awful times. The pretty youngwife of the doctor was nearly wild with alarm. Not daring to remain athome alone, she passed the day in going from house to house of herfemale friends. Advice and example she obtained from these, but poorcomfort. The colonel's wife was as brave as any man in the station; shehardly shared her husband's opinion that the regiment would remainfaithful in the midst of an almost general defection; but she was calm,self-possessed, and ready for the worst.

  "It is no use crying, my dear," she said to the doctor's wife. "Ourhusbands have enough to worry them without being shaken by our tears.Death, after all, can only come once, and it is better to die withthose we love than to be separated."

  But there were not many tears shed in Sandynugghur. The women were paleand quiet. They shook hands with a pressure which meant much, lipsquivered, and tears might drop when they spoke of children at home; butthis was not often, and day after day they bore the terrible strainwith that heroic fortitude which characterized English women in Indiaduring the awful period of the mutiny. Ten days after the news came inof the rising at Delhi Major Warrener told his family, on his returnfrom parade, that the regiment had again declared its fidelity, and hadoffered to march against the mutineers.

  "I am glad of it," he said, "because it looks as if at present, atleast, they have not made up their minds to mutiny, and I shall be ableto go to mess with a lighter heart; as I told you yesterday, it is thecolonel's birthday, so we all dine at mess."

  In the meantime Saba had faithfully carried out her commission as tothe dresses, and had added to the bundles a bottle containing a brownjuice which she had extracted from some berries; this was to be usedfor staining the skin, and so completing the disguise. The Warrenersknew that if their old nurse had any information as to any intendedoutbreak she would let them know; but she heard nothing. She was knownto be so strongly attached to the major's family that, had the otherservants known anything of it, they would have kept it from her.

  The hour for the mess-dinner was eight, and the young Warreners hadfinished their evening meal before their father started.

  "God bless you, my children, and watch over and protect us all till wemeet again!" such was the solemn leave-taking with which the major andhis children had parted--if only for half an hour--since the evil daysbegan.

  For an hour and a half the young Warreners and their cousin sat andread, and occasionally talked.

  "It's time for tea," Kate said, looking at her watch; and she struck abell upon the table.

  Usually the response was almost instantaneous; but Kate waited twominutes, and then rang sharply twice. There was still no reply.

  "He must be asleep," she said, "or out of hearing; but it is curiousthat none of the others answer!"

  Dick went out into the veranda, but came in again in a minute or two:

  "There is no one there, Kate; and I don't hear any of them aboutanywhere."

  The four young people looked at each other. What did this mean? Had theservants left in a body? Did they know that something was going tohappen? Such were the mute questions which their looks asked each other.

  "Girls!" said Ned, "put your dark shawls round you. It may be nothing,but it is better to be prepared. Get the bundles out. Dick, put abottle of wine in your pocket; and let us all fill our pockets withbiscuits."

  Silently and quietly the others did as he told them.

  "There is that great biscuit-tin full," Ned said when they had filledtheir pockets; "let us empty it into that cloth, and tie it up. Now, ifyou will put your shawls on I will look in at the stables."

  In a couple of minutes he returned.

  "The horses are all unharnessed," he said, "and not a soul is to beseen. Ah, is that Saba?"

  The old nurse had been found asleep in her favorite place outside thedoor of her young mistresses' room.

  "Do you know what is the matter, Saba? All the servants are gone!"

  The old nurse shook her head. "Bad news; no tell Saba."

  "Now, Saba, get ready to start," for the nurse had declared that shewould accompany them, to go into the villages to buy food; "Dick, comewith me; we will put one of the horses into the dogcart."

  They were leaving the room when they heard the sound of a rifle. As ifit were the signal, in a moment the air rang with rifle shots, shouts,and yells. The boys leaped back into the room and caught up the bundles.

  "Quick, for your lives, girls! some of them are not fifty yards off! Tothe bushes! Come, Saba!"

  "Saba do more good here," the old nurse said, and seated herselfquietly in the veranda.

  It was but twenty yards to the bushes they had marked as the place ofconcealment; and as they entered and crouched down there came the soundof hurrying feet, and a band of Sepoys, led by one of the jemadars, ornative officers, rushed up to the veranda from the back.

  "Now," the jemadar shouted, "search the house; kill the boys, but keepthe white women; they are too prett
y to hurt."

  Two minutes' search--in which furniture was upset, curtains pulleddown, and chests ransacked--and a shout of rage proclaimed that thehouse was empty.

  The jemadar shouted to his men: "Search the compound; they can't be faroff; some of you run out to the plain; they can't have got a hundredyards away; besides, our guards out there will catch them."

  The old nurse rose to her feet just as the Sepoys were rushing out onthe search.

  "It is of no use searching," she said; "they have been gone an hour."

  "Gone an hour!" shouted the enraged jemadar; "who told them of theattack?"

  "I told them," Saba said steadily; "Saba was true to her salt."

  There was a yell of rage on the part of the mutineers, and half a dozenbayonets darted into the faithful old servant's body, and without aword she fell dead on the veranda, a victim to her noble fidelity tothe children she had nursed.

  "Now," the jemadar said, "strip the place; carry everything off; it isall to be divided to-morrow, and then we will have a blaze."

  Five minutes sufficed to carry off all the portable articles from thebungalow; the furniture, as useless to the Sepoys, was left, buteverything else was soon cleared away, and then the house was lit inhalf a dozen places. The fire ran quickly up the muslin curtains,caught the dry reeds of the tatties, ran up the bamboos which formedthe top of the veranda, and in five minutes the house was a sheet offlame.