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Chapter 11

Courage chilled in the water – A shivering matchlockman – Examined by a native officer – Too much light, and dangerous jostling – A watchman’s challenge – No one talks of the English! – Everything wrong in the dark – A walk round the enemy – A gallant guide frightened – An old cultivator, and a young one – The dogs bark – Skinned toes – Hide and go seek – A young woman’s thigh squeezed in the dark – A careless Sepoy guard questioned by its enemy – Alum Bagh avoided – A dreadful surprise – Sepoys tell us the way to a swamp, and we go into it – A fatiguing struggle to keep two heads above water – An angry man – Passing between two fires – Villagers flying for safety – A topographical sketch on the sands all wrong – A sleeper disturbed

The night was dark – the sky without a cloud – and there was nothing to guide us but the bright mysterious stars, and a few lights flickering across the river. On our right lay the lines of the enemy, extending past the palaces to the bridge of boats, and on the left they crowded towards the elegant iron bridge, and the old stone bridge beyond, over which we were to re-cross the river that flowed calmly and silently before us, and divided the two armies. I descended naked to the stream, with the clothes on my head rolled into a bundle. The first plunge into the lines of the enemy, and the cold water, chilled my courage immensely, and if the guide had been within reach I should, perhaps, have pulled him back, and given up the enterprize. But he waded quickly through the river, and reaching the

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opposite shore, went crouching up a trench for about three hundred yards, to a-grove of low trees on the edge of a pond, where we paused to dress. We were interrupted for a few minutes by a man coming down to wash: he went away without observing us, who would if we could, have lain as close to the earth as the leaves under us, for he must have seen both had his eyes turned our way. My confidence now returned, and with my sword resting on the shoulder, we advanced into the huts in our front, where we met a matchlock-man. I thought it prudent to be the first to speak, and remarked, as we approached, that the night was cold, and after his repeating that it was cold, I passed on, observing that it would be colder by-and-bye.

Proceeding six or seven hundred yards further, we reached the iron bridge over the Gumti, where we were stopped, and called over by a native officer who sat in an upper-storied house, and seemed to be in command of a cavalry picquet whose horses were saddled. My guide advanced to the light, and I stayed a little back in the shade. We said that we had come from Mundeon, (our old cantonment, then in possession of the enemy), and that we were going into the city to our homes. We continued on along the left bank of the river to the stone bridge, (about eight or nine hundred yards from the iron bridge,) passing unnoticed through a number of Sepoys and matchlock-men, some of whom were escorting persons of rank in palanquins, preceded by torches. There was more light than I cared for, and I would have given much to have had perfect darkness throughout the city. Recrossing the Gumti by the stone bridge, we glided by a sentry, (who was closely questioning a dirtily-dressed native,) into the Chouk, or

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principal street of the city of Lucknow, which, to my great relief, was not illuminated so much as it used to be previous to the siege, nor was it so crowded. I shuffled and jostled against several armed men in the street without being spoken to, and only met one guard of seven Sepoys, who were amusing themselves with women of pleasure.

Kunoujee Lal made several attempts to leave the main street, and wander through the dark and narrow turnings; but I resisted his wish to avoid the crowd, feeling sure that our safety lay in courting inquiry. When about to issue into the country, we were challenged by a watchman, who merely asked what we were. The part of the city traversed by us that night seemed to have been deserted by at least a third of its inhabitants, and I did not hear a single reference to the English the whole way!

I was in great spirits when we reached the green fields, into which I had not been for five months. Every plant was fragrant, and the smell of the fields refreshing. I greedily sniffed it all as I devoured a delicious fresh carrot, and gave vent to my feelings in a conversation with Kunoujee Lal, who joined in admiring the luxuriance of Oudh, and lamented with me that it was now in the hands of wretches whose rapacity and misgovernment were ruining it.

The environs of the city were beautifully wooded, and planted with fruit and flower trees, through which we could scarce see our direction. But we went onwards in high spirits, and accomplished foul’ or five miles without suspecting the trouble before us. We had taken the wrong road, and were now quite out of the way, in the Dilkusha Park, which was occupied by

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the enemy 1 As this was the route we were to return I thought I ought not to lose the chance thus afforded of examining the position; and leaving Kunoujee Lal seated in the shade of a large tree, I walked round it. On re-joining the guide I found him in great alarm; the thought had occurred that I would distrust him because of the mistake, which, he urged, was occasioned by anxiety to take me away from the picquets of the enemy, I- bade him not to be frightened, for I was not annoyed, as such accidents are not infrequent in the dark, even when there is no danger to be avoided.

It was now about midnight. Near a village we saw a cultivator watching his crop, and endeavoured to persuade him to show us’ the way for a short distance, but be urged old age and lameness. Another, whom I peremptorily told to come with us, ran off screaming, and alarmed the dogs of the village, which made us run quickly into the canal flowing under the Charbagh. I fell several times in our flight, owing to wet and slippery shoes, and sore feet. The shoes being hard and tight, had rubbed the skin off my toes, and cut into the heels. We crouched in the bed of the stream till the alarm subsided, when we entered another village for a guide. The whole ground was so cut up by ravines, and barred by garden walls, that we made no progress through it; and there was reason to fear that we might awkwardly stumble on one of the many parties of troops in the neighbourhood, which, the old cultivator told us, had been that day withdrawn from the front. I entered a wretched hut, and groping in the dark for an occupant, pressed the soft thigh of a woman, who started, but heeded my earnest whisper to be quiet. The good-natured creature woke her mother;

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and both put us on the right road, and blabbed all they knew of the proceedings of the enemy, who seemed to be bragging greatly after the retrograde movement.

About one o’clock we reached an advanced picquet of Sepoys, who told us the way, after asking where we had come from and whither we were going. They executed the duty most clumsily and carelessly. I thought it safer to go to the picquet than to try to pass unobserved. Kunoujee Lal now begged I would not press him to take me into the Alum Bagh. He described it as surrounded by rifle pits and mutineers, who were sure to arrest us if detected passing over to the English garrison; and he urged that, as he had not been there, it would be hazarding too much to attempt to reach it. I was tired and in pain, and would, therefore, have preferred going in; but, as he feared it, I desired him to go on to the camp of the Commander-in-Chief, which he said was on the Kanhpur road, near Banni, a village eighteen miles from Lucknow.

By three o’clock we reached a grove of mango trees, situated on a plain, in which a man was singing at the top of his voice. I thought he was a villager; but he got alarmed on hearing us approach, and astonished us by calling out a guard of Sepoys, all of whom asked questions. It was an anxious moment. Kunoujee Lal lost heart for the first time, and threw away the despatch entrusted to him for Sir Colin Campbell. I drew their attention to his fright, and begged they would not terrify poor travellers, unaccustomed to be questioned by so many valorous soldiers; they ceased their chatter, and we replied to the enquiries of the officer that we were going to Umroula, (a village two miles this side of the Commander-in-Chief’s camp), to inform a friend

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of the death of his brother by a shot from the British entrenchment at Lucknow. They were greatly relieved on discovering that they had been falsely alarmed, for their terrible foe was only a few miles distant.

We took the direction indicated by them, and after walking for half an hour, disappeared in a jheel, or swamp, which are large and numerous in Oudh. We waded onwards up to our waists, and sometimes to our necks in water, checked at every step. Before we found that we were in a jheel, we had gone too far to recede. It was a long and tiresome struggle, and we were doubtful whether we should ever get out of it. The mud and high reeds clung to us, sometimes holding back a shoe, a stocking, or the scabbard of my sword, and now and then drawing the scarf from my shoulders. My guide being a little man, had occasionally to be held by the neck to keep his head above water. Indians rarely give expression to disappointment in curses, and the good fellow bore the interruptions more patiently than I did. Indeed, he was once or twice disposed to laugh at the vehemence with which I abused every mutineer, every weed, every bit of mud, and every drop of water in the province. The colour was gone from my hands, and I feared there would be little left upon my countenance, which would then have been the death of me. After two hours of intense labour and anxiety we landed, and, despite of the remonstrances of Kunoujee Lal, I rested for a quarter of an hour.

Being again doubtful of the road, we entered a village and went on to the Chubootra, or village office, where several men were sleeping outside on cots. Kunoujee Lal woke one; but he refused to go with us, and spoke contemptuously of the enemy, on hearing we were

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sent by Raja Man Singh to ascertain the strength and whereabouts of the English dogs.

“Have you not heard that from the fellows who ran from them? Go away! and do not disturb our rest.”

We departed from the angry man in haste, dreading that further perseverance might involve us in trouble by waking the other sleepers.

The moon shone brightly, and the firmament sparkled with stars as we pressed forward over an extensive plain. We came on two more guards, about three hundred yards asunder, seated with their heels to the fire. I did not care to face them, and passed between the two flames unnoticed, for the careless men had no sentries thrown out. A little later we met several villagers, with their families and chattels mounted on buffaloes, and we learnt from them that they were flying for their lives from the English, who, they said, were murdering and plundering all around them. The frightened creatures were in such a hurry that they would not stop to tell us more, for we would have asked a thousand questions in our great joy. By drawing lines on the sand we settled the probable whereabouts of the troops, and then started off in the wrong direction, and were only stopped going over to the enemy again by missing the bustling noise of the camp, for which we listened. It was about four o’clock in the morning when we stopped at the corner of a grove, where I lay down, fatigued, to sleep for an hour. Kunoujee Lal entreated I would not do so, but I thought he overrated the danger, and desired him to go into the grove to see if there was any one there who could guide us. He had not gone far when I was startled by the challenge, in a native accent, “who comes there?”

This collection transcribed by Chris Gage
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