CHAPTER XIV.

CAPTAIN W. A. KERR, SOUTH MAHRATTA HORSE, AND THE VICTORIA CROSS.

On the evening of the 8th of July, 1857, a party of officers belonging to different regiments in the Indian service were seated round the mess-room table in the barracks of Sattara, in the Bombay Presidency. An expression of anxiety was depicted on all their faces, and they spoke in that hushed subdued tone which men usually assume in moments of great peril. And they had reason to look anxious. The Indian Mutiny had already broken out, and recent events showed that its limits were not to be confined to the Bengal Presidency. The seeds of disaffection had been sown among their own men, and they knew not at what hour they might be called upon to meet them in open mutiny. The Orientals can veil the most treacherous designs under the deepest secrecy, and every officer felt, as it were, that he was carrying his life in his hands. At any hour the men, outwardly so respectful and obedient, might enter the very room where they sat and shoot them down at the mess-table. They had done so in other cases, and what guarantee had these that their lives were more secure? The inhabitants of Sattara were at no pains to conceal their rebellious tendencies, and their men were only restrained by that discipline which soldiers find it so difficult to shake off from openly expressing their sympathies with them. In truth, the whole country was in a state of slumbering rebellion, and no one could tell when the embers of disaffection might burst forth into an open flame. They felt as Prometheus might have felt if he had been bound to the sides of Mount Etna, in hourly expectation of an eruption. Escape there was none. If it came to the worst, they could meet their fate like brave men, and die sword in hand.

One young officer, whose stalwart frame and slight accent betokened his Northern origin, took a more hopeful view of the subject. This was Lieutenant William Alexander Kerr, of the South Mahratta Horse, an officer who had already secured the confidence and respect of the wild troopers under his command. He expressed his conviction that, however treacherous the other native troops might prove, he could always count on the loyalty of the South Mahratta Horse, and if any emergency should occur it would be seen that their courage was equal to their loyalty. The words had scarcely passed his lips, when an orderly entered the room and delivered a slip of paper to the officer in command. The door was carefully closed to prevent the servants from hearing, for at that trying period almost every native was suspected to be a rebel in disguise. The paper was then read aloud. It proved to be a telegraphic message from Kolapore, a town about seventy-five miles distant from Sattara. Its contents were such as might well appal the bravest heart. The 27th Regiment of Bombay Native Infantry had suddenly mutinied and murdered all the officers on whom they could lay their hands. Those who escaped had taken shelter in the Residency, where they were guarded by a troop of the South Mahratta Horse and the Kolapore Light Infantry. The mutineers, from carelessness or ignorance, had neglected to cut the telegraph wires, and the beleaguered party had thus been enabled to communicate with their countrymen at Sattara, to whom they made an urgent appeal for assistance. Almost destitute of provisions, and surrounded by a merciless foe thirsting for their blood, they could not hold out long, and if they yielded their fate was certain. In this the hour of their need they turned to their countrymen for assistance.

A momentary silence ensued. It was not that they were unwilling to incur any risk in order to aid those whose case was so desperate; the only question was whether they could trust their men in such an undertaking. Kerr was not the man to unsay the words he had just spoken. He had expressed the confidence he reposed in the loyalty and courage of his men; he was now prepared to prove that that confidence was not misplaced.

His position as adjutant of the regiment afforded him the best opportunities of becoming acquainted with the personal character of the men. He was brought into daily contact with them; had to listen to all their grievances; had to receive the complaints made against defaulters; and, in minor cases, to decide the punishments to be awarded. Unswerving firmness and impartial justice are the two qualities most requisite to enable one to obtain a powerful hold on the Oriental mind, and these two qualities Lieutenant Kerr possessed in the highest perfection. He knew his men, and his men knew him; they could, therefore, trust one another in the hour of danger. He at once volunteered to lead a party of the South Mahratta Horse to the rescue; all the assistance that could be spared was fifty men. Small as that number was for such an undertaking, he did not hesitate to take the command. No time was consumed in needless preparation; in half an hour he was in the saddle and on the road. We use the expression “road” in a figurative sense; literally speaking, there was no road at all, merely a rough path leading through the cotton-fields, where the horses sank to the fetlocks, often to the knees, in the mud. The distance to be travelled was only seventy-five miles: a short distance to those accustomed to railways and steamers, but those familiar with the roads in India will appreciate the difficulties which Kerr and his gallant little party had to surmount. It was the middle of the monsoon season; the rain descended in torrents; the country was half flooded; the smallest streams were converted into dangerous rivers. But the gallant band went on; swam their horses over three large and two smaller rivers, besides seven nullahs, all swollen with the heavy rains, and reached Kolapore within twenty-six hours. We have all heard of Dick Turpin’s ride to York; but the rapid advance of Lieutenant Kerr and his party, in such a country, and at such a season, was scarcely less wonderful.

They did not arrive a moment too soon. The mutineers, elated by a temporary success, were ready to offer them battle. They had already encountered the Kolapore Light Infantry, and defeated them with considerable loss. After this they had taken up their position in a pagah, or fortified square with circular bastions, situated near the town. This pagah was a place of considerable strength, and the attacking party had no artillery to effect a breach in the walls. Recourse was had to the rajah, who lent them a couple of old guns, which, on trial, were found to be useless. Night was at hand, and Kerr knew well the danger of delay; if he waited till morning, his men, worn out and discouraged, might refuse to follow him. All his hopes of success depended on an immediate attack; so he resolved at once to carry the place by storm. His men had already witnessed his courage; he had headed the party which occupied the brushwood outside the pagah; he had laid the guns at thirty yards’ range from the western bastion under a heavy fire; he had passed through all this unhurt. The Orientals, fatalists by creed and by constitution, have the greatest faith in the luck that attends certain leaders; they recognised in Kerr one of the favourites of Allah, and were prepared to follow him wherever he chose to lead.

He did not give them long to wait. Causing the sowars to dismount from their horses, he placed himself at their head and led them on to the attack. On approaching the walls they found that the task they had undertaken was one of no ordinary difficulty. The only entrance to the place was by small doors of thick teak-wood, from five and a half to six feet in height, which the mutineers had taken the precaution to block up with large stones, so as to render them almost as solid as the walls. If they had been provided with guns this obstacle might easily have been removed; but, as the event proved, the two lent by the rajah were evidently intended more for ornament than use.

But Kerr was not a man to be easily discouraged. His conduct proved the truth of the good old adage, that “where there’s a will there’s a way.” Among the dismounted sowars there was, fortunately, one who entered readily into his plans, and volunteered to share with him the danger. This was Gumpunt Row Deo Ker, a gallant trooper, worthy to be known and admired by all who can appreciate valour in the field, though the singularity of his name will, we fear, prevent it from ever becoming familiar to our readers as a household word. Kerr and Gumpunt armed themselves with crowbars and marched through the heavy fire of the enemy till they reached one of the small doors. Both plied their instruments so well that they soon made an aperture sufficiently wide to admit a man in a stooping attitude. It seems almost miraculous that no hostile bullet should have reached them while thus engaged, but they escaped unhurt. The opening was made, but who would have the courage to be the first to enter? To do so was almost certain death: the rebels were waiting and watching to shoot down the first man who appeared inside the walls, and yet there was not a moment’s hesitation. Kerr rushed through the opening, followed by Gumpunt Row and others whose courage was inspired by the example of their daring leader. As soon as he appeared within the pagah, twenty of the mutineers took deliberate aim and fired a volley at him. He had the presence of mind to retain his stooping position, and all the bullets passed harmlessly over his head. He did not give them time to reload, but rushed at them sword in hand. They fought with bayonets, and kept their ground for a time, till several of them were killed and wounded. Nothing could resist the impetuous onset of the stormers: the rebels were driven back till they found refuge in a house which covered the other entrance. It so happened that this house was loopholed, and the rebels were thus enabled to continue their resistance. They fired heavy volleys upon the attacking party as they advanced, and did everything they could to make good their position; but it was all in vain. Kerr, followed by his brave sowars, got round the flanks, set fire to the building, and burnt the enemy out. The other mutineers retreated through the door already alluded to, and began to barricade it. This spot now became the central point of attack and defence; the mutineers quitted the other bastions which they had been defending, and joined the party who had formed the barricade. Knowing the fate that awaited them if they yielded, they fought with all the fury of despair.

The great point was to effect an entrance. This could only be done by removing the barricade. This was a task of no ordinary danger; whoever undertook it had to count on concentrating on himself the whole fire of the enemy. Here again Lieutenant Kerr boldly exposed his life to almost certain destruction by rushing forward, crowbar in hand, and emulating the vigour of the Black Knight in “Ivanhoe” in the ponderous blows he struck. It seemed that day as if he bore a charmed life; the bullets of the rebels whistled around him in every direction, but still he plied his crowbar till the barricade began to yield. At length, as on the former occasion, he made an opening wide enough to admit a person in a stooping position. As soon as this was done he rushed through, followed by his faithful attendant, Gumpunt Row, who was resolved to share his leader’s fate. The rebels were waiting their approach, and no sooner had they appeared within the walls than they were met by a volley, from which they fortunately escaped unhurt. Without giving them time to reload they rushed upon the mutineers, and a desperate hand-to-hand combat ensued. The rebels were far superior in numbers, but that was their only advantage. The storming party, animated by the example of their gallant leader, already counted on victory. For a time the event seemed doubtful; the enemy, driven to their last corner, offered an obstinate resistance. A ball cut the chain of Lieutenant Kerr’s helmet, another hit his sword-blade with such force that it turned the edge. The faithful Gumpunt Row, though wounded in the foot, never quitted his master’s side; at one moment, when his life was exposed to imminent danger, he shot the assailant dead. Another mutineer rushed up and discharged his musket so close to Lieutenant Kerr’s face that for an instant he was blinded by the powder. It was only for a moment, and as soon as he recovered his sight he ran his sword through the body of his adversary with such force that it required a violent effort to withdraw it. While he was struggling to do so, one of the enemy, watching his opportunity, rushed up and struck him a violent blow with the butt-end of a musket. Such a blow would have placed a less powerful man _hors de combat_; as it was, Lieutenant Kerr staggered beneath it and almost lost his consciousness. Another rebel, observing his helpless condition, ran forward to dispatch him, but Gumpunt Row, watching over his master’s safety, was ready to receive him. A bullet from his musket stretched him lifeless on the ground. Lieutenant Kerr, instantly recovering himself, killed a second. Assailants and defendants were now enveloped in such a cloud of smoke that it was difficult to distinguish one another or to mark the various incidents of the contest, which raged with the greatest fury. Lieutenant Kerr, though severely wounded, pressed the advantage he had gained by driving the enemy before him; he knew that all depended upon his example and courage; if he had fallen or hesitated for a moment the sowars would have retreated and the enemy escaped. As it was, they followed him wherever he went, and showed by their conduct that the natives of India, when properly led, are capable of the most heroic deeds.

The mutineers were pressed so hard that they at length gave way, and took refuge in the inner keep. This building had been used as a temple, and was a place of considerable strength. The rebels barricaded the door and began to fire through an opening on the storming party. The latter had consisted originally of seventeen sowars; of these only six or seven continued to follow their gallant leader; all the rest had been killed or disabled. Lieutenant Kerr advanced with this handful of men to attack the rebels in their last refuge. On approaching the door, it was found that the crowbars made no impression upon it, and that some other means of forcing an entrance must be adopted. Lieutenant Kerr proved himself as ingenious in resources as he was gallant in attack. Observing a quantity of hay close at hand, he seized some of it and carried it to the door of the temple. He was closely followed by Gumpunt Row, who set fire to the hay. The door was gradually consumed, and the stormers, who during this interval had been exposed to a heavy fire, rushed in. None of the mutineers escaped; all of them were either captured or slain.

This brilliant affair, in which Lieutenant Kerr bore such a distinguished part, was attended with the most important consequences: it checked the rising spirit of revolt in the province where it occurred, and revived the confidence of the officers in the native regiments under their command.

The loss sustained by the storming party was very severe. Their leader was seriously wounded. Of his seventeen followers eight were killed on the spot, and four subsequently died of their wounds. Not one of them escaped unhurt. If we take into account the obstinate resistance of the enemy, the smallness of Kerr’s troop, and the heavy fire to which they were exposed, the only ground for surprise is that any of them should have escaped at all. It was impossible that such gallant conduct should have passed unnoticed or unrewarded. The press of India was loud in expressing the admiration which was felt by all, and Colonel Maugan, the officer commanding at Kolapore, brought Lieutenant Kerr’s distinguished conduct under the notice of the Adjutant-General of the Bombay army, in the following terms:—

“Lieutenant William A. Kerr, of the Southern Mahratta Irregular Horse, took a prominent share in the attack of the position, and at the moment when the capture was of great public importance, he made a dash at the gateway with some dismounted horsemen, and forced an entrance by breaking down the gate. This attack was completely successful; and the defenders (to the number of thirty-four, all armed with muskets and bayonets) were either killed, wounded, or captured—a result which may with perfect justice be attributed to Lieutenant Kerr’s dashing and devoted bravery. I would therefore beg to be permitted to recommend Lieutenant Kerr for the highly honourable distinction of the Victoria Cross.”

Our readers, after reading the above narrative of Lieutenant Kerr’s exploits at Kolapore, will agree with us that he deserved this honourable distinction, so dear to every soldier’s heart. Soon after these events he returned to England, where he was invested with the Victoria Cross, and afforded Mr. Desanges an opportunity of perpetuating the remembrance of his gallantry. He has now returned to Bombay, and holds the rank of captain in the South Mahratta Horse. If circumstances should ever arise demanding such displays of valour, it will be found that his arm is as strong and his heart as brave as when he stormed the pagah at Kolapore and repressed the mutiny of the 27th Bombay Native Infantry.