has caused this direful outcry—it is mutiny!—insurrection!—THE BENGAL ARMY HAS REVOLTED!
It was nearing five o'clock on that memorable afternoon when, at a given signal, the 3rd Light Cavalry and the 20th Native Infantry rushed out of their lines, armed and furious. A detachment of the former regiment at once galloped in the direction of the jail. On reaching it, its gates were opened to them without resistance, and they at once liberated all its inmates, including their imprisoned comrades: a native smith was at hand to strike off their irons. These men, infuriated by their disgrace, ran with all possible speed to their lines, armed themselves, and mounted; they then rushed to the scene of action, yelling fearfully, and denouncing death to every European. Meanwhile the remaining portion of the 3rd Cavalry and the 20th Native Infantry had proceeded to the lines of the 11th with all possible speed. Thither also the officers of that regiment, alarmed by the shouting and noise, had gone before them. They found Col. Finnis haranguing his men, and endeavouring to keep them firm to their colours. The men were wavering when the 20th arrived. The men of this regiment, whose hands were already red with the blood of several of their own officers, seeing this hesitation and its cause, at once fired at Col. Finnis. The first shot took effect on his horse only, but almost immediately afterwards he was riddled with balls. All discipline, all better feelings, now vanished. It is true that the Sepoys of the 11th permitted their officers to escape with their lives; but having done this, the greater portion of them followed the example of the 20th. And now ensued a scene of disorder, rapine, and murder which pen cannot describe. Every house and building near the lines, except the hospital, had been fired; and the smoking and blazing barracks and houses, the yells of the mutineers, and the shouts and shrieks of the multitude gathered there, numbers of whom fell from the shots of the mutineers, made on that dark night a scene than which one cannot be imagined more horrible.[1] Officers galloping about, carrying orders to the European troops, were fired at, not only by the mutineers, but by the native guards placed over the public buildings for security. Ladies driving in their carriages, gentlemen in their buggies, who had left their houses unsuspicious of evil, were assaulted, and if not murdered, treated with a brutality to which death would have been a relief. Not only the Sepoys, but the released jail-birds, fifteen hundred in number—the population also, that "vile rabble" which is always available for plunder or murder, had joined the movement, and spread terror and desolation all around them. Nor were houses or public offices safe places of refuge from these assaults. Most of the houses in Meerut—all of those in the military lines—are thatched with straw, and easily inflammable: the plan of the insurgents was to set fire to the roof, and to murder the frightened residents as they quitted the burning dwelling. Many met their deaths in this way; more, providentially, escaped: yet not one of those in the latter category owed their safety to the mercy of their as-
- ↑ Correspondent Bengal Hurkaru.
