CHAPTER XII.
I need not dwell upon the harrowing scene — the like of which God grant I may never witness again — in the hospital tent after the return of the Brigade to the camp; for the horrors of war and its attendant misery are bad enough to those before whom they are laid bare, without being revealed to those happily unacquainted with them. But so much of the scene may be noticed here, as relates to the native sympathy shown to us on this memorable occasion.
Our servants, and most of them were Mahomedans, wept and sobbed bitterly at beholding the distressing sight of human blood and suffering in the hospital tent; and as they diligently attended to the wounded, there was a marked sadness in the countenances of them all; whilst some of them, too, assisted in carrying to the graves the mortal remains of those who had fallen. So that, whatever may be thought of Mahomedan tenets as being fanatically prejudicial to Christians, here in the field, at all events, their genuine sympathy on our behalf showed that, after all, notwithstanding their fanatical instincts, Mahomedans, especially in humble grades, are always disposed to show kindness, and good fellowship towards all those who treat them with conciliatory forbearance.
After the action, the inhabitants of the neighbourhood evinced their joy at the complete discomfiture of the rebels by bringing in several wounded Sepoys, who had crawled away unperceived to some shelter close to Tilga, where they had received their final coup de grace. Of course they were summarily hanged on the nearest trees at hand, and with as little ceremony as one would use in slaying venomous reptiles. But, as I have long since thrown a veil over all such repulsive executions, I shall pass on, and not again allude to them.
In marked contrast, however, to these scenes too dreadful to forget, was witnessed on the same day a very impressive and affecting scene, when our poor fallen fellow-volunteers were buried. Among them my chum, boon companion, and unchangeable friend in weal or woe, poor T_____, killed while side by side in the taking of the gun. Yes, there the young, handsome, chivalrous fellow — a dandy in Calcutta — now lay in that forlorn, out-of-the-way place, without as much as a blade of grass to mark the mournful spot. And as with heavy hearts we stood over those rough and shallow graves, and with moistened eyes gazed on the sad interments, our souls sickened at seeing the remains of our comrades, who but only a few hours before were full of life and chivalry, now being shovelled away into earthen holes like dogs. “Surely, God never created us for such a fate as this,” was a remark more than once groaned aloud by the side of those premature and sorrowful graves. And although thirty-five long years have flown away on the wings of Time since those eventful days, and my hair is grey, in my mind’s eye I have not finished gazing upon that mournful scene of sorrow.
It was satisfactory to find, by the arms and accoutrements of the enemy left on the field, that we had been punishing the fiends of several mutinous regiments; and as to the weapons of the Auxiliaries, no notice was taken of them, except that they were collected in loads and destroyed, together with the muskets of the Sepoys.
Not once since the commencement of hostilities in this part of the country had the rebels received such a drubbing. They had been driven back on all sides, and routed without a prospect of being rallied; while their casualties in killed and wounded were enormous. Still, they kept up the “game of brag” by increasing their defiant salutes more than ever!
Campaigning affairs, like all human affairs, are in continual rotation; and this truism was here again verified by a swarm of rebels whiriing round once more to a town named Tanda, and establishing chains of “military posts” there, as connecting links with the insurgents at Belwa.
With Oudh in a revolutionary blaze; Azimghur, the adjoining district, invaded by Kuer Singh’s rebel army; and Gorukpūr itself, offering comparatively a safe and central asylum, fast filling with marauding bands of insurgents, things began again to assume a threatening aspect. Reinforcements were urgently applied for, but none could be sent — not a man could be spared, while all European soldiers were required where they were. So that, in the very teeth of at least twenty thousand infuriated and exultant rebels, it was tolerably evident that the Brigade was expected to fight on, and hold on, where it was. And thus, it really seemed as if we had volunteered for a forlorn hope.
No doubt the Brigade would have continued to hold the position with the same indomitable resolution, and untiring energy as it had already repeatedly displayed in its defence, had not serious and unforeseen events now demanded its attention in another quarter. But I am anticipating, for the climax in the approaching hostile complications has not yet arrived.
By-and-bye rumours of night attacks began to pervade the camp, and in consequence the various guards were doubled during the dark hours, while the rest of the Brigade lay under arms, asleep with one eye open, until the sun was fully risen.
Bad tidings were also received from the rear, where a strongly fortified village, named Nugger, was threatened by a body of mutineers and their followers. Incendiaries, too, were active and busy; for hardly a night passed without some lurid conflagration lighting up the country, or villages blazing with such brilliancy that, had the rebels carried into effect their threats of hazarding nocturnal attacks on the camp, we should have welcomed them in the midst of these illuminations, which enabled us to see almost as clearly as by daylight. The land, in fact, was brimful of blood and fire; and had a stranger suddenly dropped down upon us from the skies, his first idea on the prevailing state of affairs would certainly have been that he had descended into the infernal regions.
Thus passed the turbulent interval between April 24th and 30th, with fire and thunder indicating signs of the coming storm. Clouds of horsemen, too, had been seen hovering about in the distance; while an incessant roar of heavy guns set in with the shadows of eventide, and continued with little intermission throughout that restless night, passed in harassing watchfulness.
It was obviously certain that the morrow, when it came in, would be accompanied with the warm work brewing; and now that the usual forerunner of the rebel tactics was once more astir, with nerves well strung we awaited another struggle.
And shortly after dawn, while the troops were hastily swallowing their breakfasts, the bugles, instead of the reveille, sounded the “assembly,” and on our turning out instantly, we beheld the enemy coming down in three strong columns, with swarms of skirmishers moving in his front; and with such precipitation was his onset hurled at our position, that the Brigade was fighting at first actually to save its camp, into which round-shot ricochetted in rapid succession.
So formidable an attempt by a numerous and exultant enemy to overwhelm the Brigade, as it were, at the very outset of the action, thoroughly roused into headlong energy every man in our force; with the result that the camp was soon secure; and then the fighting from sunrise to sundown became general, and almost outlived that desperate day. To detail how the action was fought out to the end, how the missiles of war hailed around, how the sailors brought their guns to bear upon the crowded ranks of the rebels, how the infantry dauntlessly advanced, and the Yeomanry charged, would be to repeat an “oft-told tale,” which in its reiteration could not fail to become wearisome, if not monotonous to a degree. I will therefore cut a long conflict short by stating that, on this occasion, we were successful in vanquishing the rebel army, only because we fought them in the united grasp of our concentrated force. Union was strength; and we presented a united front to the enemy. We were numerically too weak to cope with more than one column at a time; so that, throughout the whole of that terrific day, a desultory seesaw fight went on. When one column receded, another came on, and then another, and vice versâ until at length, as the sun sank beneath the western horizon, the enemy retreated, leaving a considerable number of his dead behind, and the Brigade the triumphant master of the field.
As a set-off to the victory, however, spies arrived in the camp almost at the same time as our triumphal entrance into it, with the astounding news that the station of Gorukpūr was again threatened with invasion from the direction of Azimghur; that a skirmish with freebooters had taken place at a police post near the town of Buste; that the village of Cuptāngung had been burnt to the ground; that Nugger having been occupied by insurgents, they were flocking into its fortress; and that the whole country lying between the ferry at Gyghāt on the river Ghagrā and the main road in the rear was blocked.
Then came the usual and oft-repeated question. What was best to be done? And after some discussion a sagacious decision prevailed.
It was urged that the present position of the Brigade was rendered useless by the enemy being in its rear, and pointed out that to hold it now would be to encourage him to break away, and overrun with impunity the neighbouring districts, which lay open without a bayonet to check his inroads and anarchy.
An immediate march, therefore, to the disturbed neighbourhood became unavoidable. And so, in a few hours after the above-recorded action, the camp was struck, the baggage packed, the earthwork levelled, and at midnight the terrific roar of the captured guns, as they were burst, appropriately served to convey a temporary farewell to Amorah, and an ominous growl to the foe in the rear.