Guns to the Far East

by V. A. Stuart

  They grumbled, as all British seamen will, but they worked hard and kept fit and, even when Phillip made attendence at certain lecture sessions voluntary, the numbers did not noticeably diminish. Breaches of discipline became fewer and finally almost ceased and William Peel’s greatest anxiety was the number of men struck down by cholera, nine of whom died during the long, slow voyage up river. On reaching Dinapore on 10th September, a number of men had to be put ashore for hospital treatment and the River Bird—proving, in her turn, unserviceable—was replaced by the steamer Mirzapore. That evening, after transferring stores to their new ship, the entire Naval Brigade marched through the city headed by their band, to drill on one of the regimental parade grounds before an enthusiastic audience of British residents and troops, the bandsmen exchanging their Enfields for musical instruments for the first time since leaving Calcutta.

  Phillip was pleased with the way the men acquitted themselves. They might still make mistakes in wheeling and other more complex manoeuvres, but their small-arms drill and their smart handling of the six-pounder brass guns evoked numerous compliments from the senior army officers who witnessed it. Disappointment was, however, in store for them—there was now no possibility that the Brigade would reach Allahabad in time to catch up with the troop reinforcements being pushed forward in a final attempt to relieve the hard-pressed Lucknow garrison. General Havelock, whose gallant little force had been reduced by cholera, dysentery, sunstroke, and rebel bullets to a mere eight hundred bayonets, had been compelled to retire to Cawnpore where, after defeating the pick of the Nana’s army in a bravely fought battle at Bithur, they were now waiting for reinforcements to reach them.

  “They’ve appointed General Sir James Outram to command this Division, which includes Cawnpore,” a grey-haired Colonel stated with a shrug. “Recalled him posthaste from Persia, to supersede poor old Havelock, who’s done as well as any Commander could, with the few regiments they gave him. But Outram has taken the Fifth and the Ninetieth from here and, if I know anything about him, he won’t rob Henry Havelock of the glory if they succeed in relieving Lucknow. And Sir Colin Campbell’s now Commander-in-Chief, which means there’ll be no more dragging of feet in Calcutta. If we could just hear that Delhi’s been recaptured, morale would soar sky-high. It’s been a terrible business, though … and we’ve had our anxieties here, under a Commander who … well, I won’t say any more, since he’s been replaced. But firm action with the native regiments here would have given Havelock both the Fifth and the Ninetieth at the time he asked for them.”

  On Saturday, 12th September, the Mirzapore cast off with the flat in tow but, six miles above Dinapore, she was compelled to anchor, being unable to stem the current with her heavy tow. Phillip, accompanied by Lieutenant Nowell Salmon, returned to the city they had just left in the cutter to request the aid of a second steamer. The Koel was sent the following day, lashed alongside the flat to assist in towing and then, within two hours, the Mirzapore ran aground on a sandbank. She was got off, after some strenuous work, only to find that the Koel’s hawsers had parted and the flat was adrift. By 16th September, they had progressed no further than Durnapur and all three vessels were compelled by fading light to drop anchor.

  Three more men died of cholera and fifty-one fell sick during the next two days; the Koel, her bunkers empty, returned to Dinapore to replenish them and Captain Peel ordered the flat to be lightened by transferring shot to the Mirzapore, but no sooner had this operation been completed than the steamer again took the ground. Finally when the Koel returned, she was refloated, but not before her worn hawsers had twice more parted and the extra shot, moved to her from the flat, had been loaded aboard the Koel.

  On 22nd September, a wind of almost cyclone force struck the river from the westward and continued from 2:30 in the afternoon until dawn on the 23rd, again compelling the three vessels to anchor as it blew across the flat countryside on both banks, bringing a heavy rainstorm in its wake. The rain swelled the river to a muddy torrent, with every sort of flotsam hurtling down on the current, including native bodies in various stages of decomposition, which the Shannon’s seamen studied with growing excitement until informed by one of the steamer’s officers that—far from being casualties from a British victory— they were the bodies of poor villagers, dead of natural causes, whose families were too poor to provide sufficient firewood for their funeral pyres.

  On the 24th, with another man dead and 47 still sick with cholera or dysentery, the Brigade landed at Ghazipore, spending the next four days in barracks there and—on Peel’s insistence—continuing with a full programme of training. On the evening of the 27th, the shore parties re-embarked in the Koel and the flat, leaving Lieutenant Wilson with the sick in the charge of an Indian Army surgeon and, after more frustrating delays caused by the inability of the two small steamers to make any headway against the current of the river, finally anchored off Benares City at three o’clock on the afternoon of 30th September.

  Phillip had heard and read much about Benares and, at first sight, was as impressed by its size and extent and by the beauty of its graceful minarets and swelling domes as by the numerous flights of stone steps descending the river bank, which seemed always to be crowded with native pilgrims, come to bathe in the sacred waters of the river they called “Mother Ganges.” On landing, however, he found it to be much less attractive than it had appeared from the deck of the flat. The magnificent mosques and temples were still imposing, but the approaches to them were filthy, the streets narrow and ill-kept, bordered on each side by mud-built native houses and teeming with people, with animals roaming at will, both in and outside the buildings. Although the fires of mutiny and rebellion had only recently been extinguished, the Shannon’s landing party met with no hostility from the populace in general; a motley throng of beggars—many of them hideously deformed and crippled—followed them with plaintive cries, but the people seemed, for the most part, apathetic and indifferent to their presence, passing them by without a second glance. Only the hordes of monkeys in the vicinity of the Hindu places of worship displayed any animosity towards the new arrivals, their vicious assaults matched by that of the swarms of stinging flies brought out by the monsoon rain.

  William Peel paid a courtesy call on the garrison Commander, while commissariat stores were loaded aboard the Koel, but he did not linger. With their destination now so close, he was impatient to reach it. Waiting only to receive the heartening news that Delhi had been re-captured and Outram and Havelock had succeeded in fighting their way into the Residency at Lucknow, he ordered his small fleet to cast off. The men, cheered by the news he had brought back with him, turned-to with a will to assist in coaling when they anchored off the town of Mirzapore the following evening, and there were few grumbles when they were called on during the night to pump out the Koel, which had shipped a quantity of water after dragging her anchor.

  At 1:30 p.m. on Saturday, 3rd October, the advance party of the Shannon Brigade reached its destination in the Koel, anchoring off the Musjid Hospital at Allahabad. By five that evening, all shot and baggage had been landed with the assistance of coolies, and the detachment marched into a tented camp which was situated outside the massive Fort. The Koel was dispatched to pick up the invalids from Ghazipore and the ancient Mirzapore steamer towed the flat into the anchorage. Stores were landed and, with a detachment taking over garrison duties inside the fort, a start was made with the difficult task of getting the heavy guns ashore, of which Phillip was in overall charge. By the evening of 17th October, it was virtually completed, the party left at Ghazipore had rejoined and the second detachment of 120, under the First Lieutenant, James Vaughan—which had left Calcutta a month later than Captain Peel’s—was reported to have reached Benares.

  Phillip, who had been sleeping aboard the flat, marched his fatigue party up to the Fort and, almost for the first time since his arrival, was able to take stock of his surroundings. The Fort itself, situated in a fork made by the confluence of the Ga
nges and the Jumna Rivers, was, he knew, over two hundred years old. On the two river faces, its towering, loopholed walls and massive bastions of red sandstone presented the appearance of an impregnable stronghold of great antiquity, but the land face had been considerably modernised and the Main Gate, by which he and his party entered, was approached through a series of newly built brick prison cells and along a metalled roadway wide enough to admit a cavalry squadron riding eight or ten abreast. The barracks had accommodation for only six hundred men but about five hundred yards from the glacis, a permanent camp had been pitched, with messing marquees and huts, for the accommodation of troops passing through on their way up country, and the arsenal, occupying a series of flat-roofed storerooms within the Fort, was one of the largest in India.

  The native city—as in Benares, composed largely of mudbuilt houses, temples, and open bazaars—nestled below the landward walls of the Fort, and the cantonments, previously containing the bungalows of civil and military families, lay two miles to the east. Few of the cantonment residences were now habitable; Colonel Neill’s arrival had been too late to prevent the arsonists and looters indulging in a savage orgy of destruction, and the burnt-out buildings, in their abandoned gardens, still offered evidence of the violence which had characterised Allahabad’s brief but bloody rebellion.

  Captain Peel, when Phillip entered his office to report to him, was engaged in writing a letter to the Chief of Staff in Calcutta concerning the danger of fire to which the arsenal was exposed. He said testily, thrusting the letter to one side when he recognised his caller, “Imagine it, Phillip—those storerooms contain most of the powder required for the approaching campaign and whole families of civilians, whose homes were presumably destroyed, have been permitted to take up residence in adjacent rooms! Many were actually camping in the storerooms until I threw them out and all the refugees housed in the Fort were nightly taking the air on the roofs, the men smoking their pipes!” He sighed in exasperation. “Now I’ve got sentries posted to check their identity at least, and I’ve told General Mansfield that I propose to remove the powder to detached buildings in cantonments or to powder boats on the river, where it will be considerably safer. And I’ve ordered the removal of the stocks of firewood the refugee families had painstakingly collected … If I can get them rehoused I shall feel much happier. Well …” His tone softened. “What have you to report? That our guns are safely unloaded?”

  Phillip nodded. He made his report and then asked, “Is it true that you’ve been requested to send up a gunnery officer to Cawnpore, sir?”

  Peel eyed him with raised brows. “News gets around, does it not?” he countered dryly. “It’s true, I have received that request and I’m sending Edward Daniels. He’s only a mid, I’m aware, but he had plenty of land gunnery practice in the Crimea—he’ll do all they require and more. Why … had you any thought of volunteering?”

  Phillip reddened. “Yes,” he admitted. “I had thought of it.”

  “Damn it, I can’t spare you, man!” Peel exploded. “I can’t spare any of my lieutenants and, least of all, my senior training officer. The guns’ crews have to learn how to handle bullock and elephant teams and all the officers, as well as some of the ratings, will have to become reasonably proficient at horseback riding. And we shan’t have long to ensure that they are.”

  “You mean—” Phillip stared at him, his initial disappointment fading as comprehension dawned. “The Brigade will be going into action?”

  William Peel smiled. He picked up a sheet of paper from among the pile on his desk. “Read this, my dear fellow—it’s just come by telegraph from General Mansfield, Sir Colin Campbell’s Chief of Staff.”

  The telegraphic message was addressed to Colonel Campbell, the commandant of the Fort and Phillip’s pulse quickened as he read: “The Inspector-General of Ordnance has ordered the equipment and forwarding of heavy guns to Cawnpore. See to this yourself and press forward the work. Beg Captain Peel to detach as many of the Naval Brigade as will be necessary to work this train under some efficient naval officers. One heavy battery with its ammunition, 200 rounds a gun, is to be completed first and sent off. Although there are no proper waggons for the transport of heavy ammunition at Allahabad, do what you can with ordinary carts of the country and press them forward. If no suitable carriage for naval sixty-eights, leave these in Fort and replace with Artillery twenty-fours. Beg Peel to employ his men in the arsenal to help in packing ammunition.”

  “There is no suitable carriage for our sixty-eights,” Peel said, when Phillip returned the message. “But the twenty-fourpounders are available. Even so, our most pressing problem will be transport. Help me solve that, Phillip, and get your Jacks to work on the gun teams. Elephants are the devil to control, they tell me, and bullocks can be awkward. As for the country carts …” He sighed. “At most we’ve got a couple of weeks and it may be only a few days, but we’ve got to be ready.”

  “Of course, sir. I’ll do my best, I—”

  “I know you will,” Peel put in quickly. “And I know the anxiety you’re enduring. The latest news from Lucknow is that, although Outram and Havelock fought their way into the Residency, the relief force suffered so many casualties—over five hundred, I understand—that they’re trapped there with the original garrison. They cannot fight their way out and Outram has said that he cannot risk an attempt to evacuate the women and children and the wounded with the force he now commands. But they are holding their own and have enlarged the Residency defensive perimeter. Their greatest anxiety is that their food is running low—dangerously low— so that they have had again to reduce their rations.”

  “Then there’s need for haste?” Phillip suggested, frowning.

  “Yes,” Peel conceded. “The Commander-in-Chief is still in Calcutta but he’s coming up to take command of the second relief force in person and should be here before the end of the month. We shall move on to Cawnpore to await his arrival as soon as our transport is arranged. The relief column will gather there and contact is to be made with the men Outram left to hold the Alam Bagh, who will be reinforced.”

  Phillip nodded. They discussed various details concerning guns and equipment and then William Peel said, “Jim Vaughan’s party should be here by mid-day tomorrow, according to a signal from Allahabad. I propose to send him on to Cawnpore with four of the twenty-four-pounder guns and a hundred men, including Nowell Salmon’s rifle company, as soon as I can—probably in a couple of days, if we can lay our hands on the necessary carriage. They’ve opened the railway as far as Lahonda but, as most of the engines were destroyed by the rebels, it’s doubtful whether it will be of much help to us.” He glanced at Phillip with a thoughtful frown. “Three of the mids can go in the first party … I feel that Kerr, Clinton, and Martin Daniel deserve the privilege, in recognition of the way all three of them have worked at their training, don’t you? And a field-piece party—Clinton’s, if you’re agreeable.”

  Phillip nodded. Midshipman Lord Arthur Pelham Clinton, despite his rather effeminate good looks and diminutive stature, had sweated long and hard at his training for land warfare, and had drilled his six-pounder’s guns’ crew to a pitch of efficiency few of the other teams had reached.

  “Right,” Peel said, making a note on his desk pad. “The other twenty-four-pounders and two of the howitzers will go next, with Edward Hay’s company and Gray’s Marines as escort, and we’ll follow with the rest of the field-guns and rockets—probably catch up with them on the way, with any luck, especially if the railway is functioning. Our total strength will be 516 officers and men when Vaughan joins although, of course, our effective strength will depend on the number of sick he has. We’ve got 57, but most of them are on the mend. We shall have to leave them, with about another two hundred, to garrison this place, until the Army can relieve them. Tom Young will command the second Cawnpore party—it’s his due, as gunnery officer. And Phillip, I—”

  “Sir?” Phillip acknowledged, his voice carefully express
ionless.

  “I can’t give you a command officially, since you are here in a supernumerary capacity. You—”

  “I understand, sir,” Phillip assured him.

  “No, old son, you don’t.” Peel laid a hand on his arm. “I want you to act as my second-in-command in the field because—supernumerary or not—you’re the best man for the job. If I’m killed or disabled, you will assume command of the Brigade, unless and until some higher naval authority countermands my instructions—the military authorities aren’t likely to. Is that understood?”

  “It is, sir. And … thank you.”

  “It’s your due, so don’t thank me.” Peel’s firm mouth curved into a smile. “By the way, two other items of news you may not have heard. Sotheby and his Pearl Brigade are to garrison Buxar and should be at or near there now. And our mutual friend Henry Keppel is a Rear-Admiral and a K.C.B.. How’s that for news?”

  “I am simply delighted to hear it,” Phillip answered, sincerely pleased. “And particularly delighted about his K.C.B.. Heaven knows, he deserved it!”

  “But I imagine Her Majesty had to intervene in order to get it for him,” Peel observed dryly. “Over the First Lord’s dead body, no doubt.” He arranged his papers in order, stifled a yawn, and rose. “Come and dine with me, Phillip. It’ll give us a chance to get our transport requisitions sorted out.”

  Lieutenant James Vaughan’s party of four officers and one hundred and twenty seamen—many of the latter volunteers, enlisted from merchant ships in Calcutta—arrived next day in the steamer Benares with a flat in tow, laden with tents and baggage, having accomplished the difficult journey up river in a month and suffered only a single case of cholera during the voyage. They were met and played into camp by the Shannon’s band, passing across the lowered drawbridge into the Fort between the ranks of a seamen’s guard to receive a rousing welcome from the first detachment.