CHAPTER XV.

PRIVATE HENRY WARD, V.C., 78TH HIGHLANDERS.

It is a remarkable fact that Private Henry Ward and Sir H. M. Havelock, Bart., the officer whose life he saved, have both been decorated with the Cross of Valour. The career of Havelock, the avenger of Cawnpore, the deliverer of Lucknow, is matter of history; but the important services and distinguished bravery of his son, who owes his life to Private Ward, ought to be recorded for the admiration and imitation of all who wish to deserve well of their country. He was born at Chinsurah, in the Bengal Presidency, in the year 1830; his father, then a lieutenant in the 13th Regiment, had formed the acquaintance of the Baptist missionaries at Serampore, and was married on the 9th of February, 1829, to Hannah Shepherd, the youngest daughter of the Rev. Dr. Marshman, a distinguished member of that body. Henry Marshman Havelock was the first fruit of this marriage, and had to share from his earliest infancy in all the vicissitudes and dangers of a soldier’s child in India. While still an infant under twelve months of age, he had to accompany his parents on a voyage up the Ganges and was seized with a sudden attack of illness. On this occasion his father exhibited the same calm courage and presence of mind which he afterwards displayed on many a battle-field. “To render the case more disheartening,” he wrote, “we were entirely destitute of the only remedies which we believed likely to be effectual. We had no calomel, and no lancet, and no skilful hand to use it; and the young sufferer grew worse every hour. The danger seemed imminent, and our distress was not trifling. I therefore determined myself to try my skill as an operator, and with a very indifferent substitute for a lancet, and, I fear, not a very steady hand, succeeded in giving relief to my first patient. I should think this a very tedious story to write to one who did _not_ know how the human heart, even the heart of one who has passed through many scenes of suffering and danger, attaches itself to these little ones in their years of helplessness. My clumsy attempts were certainly blessed beyond our hope, for the little sufferer soon became calmer and calmer, and his fever sensibly diminished.” We record this incident, because it proves that tenderness of heart is not incompatible with the sternest courage: the two qualities may, and often do co-exist.

It is unnecessary to dwell on the education or boyhood of young Havelock: from the earliest period he had expressed a desire to adopt his father’s profession, though, judging from his subordinate rank in the army, he had little reason to expect rapid promotion. He obtained his commission in 1847, and at the commencement of the Indian Mutiny held the rank of lieutenant in the 10th Regiment. When his father received the command of the moveable column which was to be formed at Allahabad, and to consist of the 64th Regiment and 78th Highlanders, he was appointed Deputy-Assistant Adjutant-General of this force, and accompanied them in their advance to Cawnpore. He had already held the appointment of adjutant in his own regiment, and acted for a time as aide-de-camp to his father on this his first campaign. He was present at the battle of Futtehpore, where his gallantry attracted the notice and excited the admiration of his father, who, in the original draft of the despatch he had written, thus alludes to his services:—“I shall incur risk of suspected partiality when I further record that the boldness, and activity, and quick perception of Lieutenant Havelock, 10th Foot, my son, and aide-de-camp, on this his first action on shore, inspired me with the hope that he will do his country good service long after I am in the grave.” No one can read these words without emotion, or fail to sympathize with the father of such a son and yet such was the tenderness of Havelock’s conscience, the almost morbid dread that paternal partiality might have led him to exaggerate the merits of his aide-de-camp, that the passage was omitted in the revised copy of the despatch. We question whether there be many officers in the service who would exhibit the same reticence, or practise the same self-denial under similar circumstances; but Havelock was one of a thousand. Though he had the Spartan self-denial to omit his son’s name in his published despatch, he speaks of “the boy H.” in admiring terms in his private letters, and circumstances soon occurred which led him to believe it to be his duty to recommend him for the distinction of the Victoria Cross.

A brief statement of these circumstances may not be out of place. On the 16th of July, 1857, Havelock was close upon Cawnpore, and after allowing his exhausted troops a few hours’ rest in a mango grove, until the fierce heat of the mid-day sun had abated, prepared for action. Nana Sahib, having completed his work of butchery in the town, had marched forth with his army, and taken up a strong position at Atherwas, the point where the road leading to the cantonment branches out from the main trunk-road to Cawnpore. He there commanded five villages, with numerous intrenchments, armed with seven guns; his infantry was stationed in the rear. Havelock perceived at once that the guns could not be silenced, or the intrenchments carried without sacrificing many valuable lives, and with his small army he had none to spare. He therefore quietly wheeled his force round to the left of the enemy’s position, behind a screen of clumps of mango. When the rebels detected this manœuvre, they endeavoured to strengthen their left flank by bringing up their cavalry, and opening fire in that direction with all their artillery. Then followed a series of operations which proved, in the most striking manner, the superiority of the British infantry to the recreant foe opposed to them; though inferior in numbers, and exhausted by their long march, they advanced under a heavy fire with as much coolness as if they had been on parade; and when the word was given, “Charge,” they rushed forward with a ringing cheer, and drove the enemy before them at the point of the bayonet. Four villages were thus taken in rapid succession, and seven guns fell into our hands. As a last effort the enemy planted a 24-pounder on the cantonment road, by which our men had to advance, and inflicted severe loss on the gallant little band. Our artillery cattle were so exhausted with heat and fatigue, that the guns could not be dragged forward to silence the 24-pounder, and the enemy, encouraged by their temporary success, began to rally with the evident intention of renewing the engagement. The moment was critical: all depended upon the capture of the enemy’s gun. This task was assigned to the 64th Regiment, who advanced along the road amid a shower of grape, under the command of Major Stirling. An officer commanding a regiment ought always to be mounted, especially in action: he is thus a conspicuous object to his men, and his presence inspires them with fresh courage. Unfortunately, Major Stirling’s horse had been wounded by the bursting of a shell, and he was obliged to lead on his men on foot. It does not appear that there was any hesitation or irresolution on the part of the 64th, anything, in short, to justify another officer in attempting to supersede the one already in command; on the contrary, their conduct throughout the day was rewarded with the highest praise in a public despatch. While they were in the act of advancing, young Havelock, perceiving no officer at their head, and knowing how much depended on the capture of the gun, yielded to an almost irresistible impulse by riding forward, and placing himself at the head of the regiment. Gallantly he advanced in front of them, amid a storm of grape, cheering them on by his voice and example, till he rode his horse to the very mouth of the cannon which had arrested our progress. It was seized by the 64th, and the enemy losing all heart fell back on Cawnpore, where they blew up the magazine, and then went on to Bithoor.

General Havelock, who had witnessed the gallantry of his son, resolved to recommend him for the Victoria Cross. We have already seen how on a previous occasion he had omitted his name from a public despatch lest he should be suspected of partiality: this circumstance, perhaps, rendered him more anxious to do justice to him now. There was no reason in the world why he should be debarred from this honour if he had fairly earned it, because his father happened to be the officer in command. It appears, however, that he himself wished the affair to be overlooked. It is not for us to specify the motive by which he was actuated: it may have been a tender regard for his father’s character of impartiality, or an apprehension of the storm of hostility which the bestowal of this honour would excite, or the consciousness that he was not justly entitled to it. Be this as it may, the fact is certain that he persuaded his father to suppress the telegram which he had prepared for the Commander-in-Chief. He was more anxious that his own merits should be overlooked than that his father’s good name should be impugned: he was willing to wait. On the return of the troops to Cawnpore after the battle of Bithoor, General Havelock having occasion to recommend another officer for the Victoria Cross, no longer felt himself justified in overlooking the claim of his own son. “I also recommend for the same decoration Lieutenant Havelock, 10th Foot. In the combat at Cawnpore he was my aide-de-camp. The 64th Regiment had been much under artillery fire, from which it had suffered severely. The whole of the infantry were lying down in line, when perceiving that the enemy had brought out their last reserved gun—a 24-pounder—and were rallying around it, I called up the regiment to rise and advance. Without any other word from me, Lieutenant Havelock placed himself on his horse in front of the centre of the 64th, opposite the muzzle of the gun. Major Stirling, commanding the regiment, was in front, dismounted; but the lieutenant continued to move steadily on in front of the regiment, at a foot pace, on his horse. The gun discharged shot till the troops were within a short distance, when they fired grape. In went the corps, led by the lieutenant, who steadily steered on to the gun’s muzzle, until it was mastered by a rush of the 64th.”

It is worthy of remark, that this recommendation was concealed from his son, and only communicated to him after his father’s death by Lieutenant Hargood, General Havelock’s aide-de-camp. This circumstance is to be regretted on many grounds: if the telegram had been submitted to young Havelock before it was forwarded to the Commander-in-Chief, we are certain, from our personal knowledge of his character, that he would have so modified certain expressions it contains as to have avoided wounding the tender sensibilities of those who felt aggrieved by them. Without doing any injustice to himself he might have done more justice to Major Stirling, and the officers of the 64th; but the responsibility rests not with him but with his father, who, before the storm excited by the publication of this telegram had burst forth, had already gone the way of all living, and was indifferent to popular praise or blame. The Cross of Valour was awarded to Lieutenant Havelock in March, 1858, and on reading it in the _Gazette_, the officers of the 64th Regiment, considering that they had just cause of complaint against both father and son, addressed a letter of expostulation to Sir Colin Campbell, the Commander-in-Chief in India. There is no reason to believe that the gallant old chief was actuated by any personal feeling in the matter, but he felt it to be his duty to forward the letter of expostulation to His Royal Highness the Duke of Cambridge, accompanying it with certain strictures implying grave censure on father and son.

Men who have spent so many years in the service as Lord Clyde are naturally opposed to innovations. There is a certain period in life when we all become conservative in principle. Old men, since the days of Homer, have ever been prone to exalt the past at the expense of the present; and Lord Clyde was no exception to this rule. He regarded the Victoria Cross with the same distrust with which he regarded every other innovation. In his own hot youth he had exhibited the most daring courage at Badajoz, and elsewhere, when there was no Victoria Cross to be earned; and he held that courage, like virtue, was its own reward. Devotion to duty, without regard to after consequences, was the principle by which he himself was guided during his long career; the soldier who was animated by a sense of duty required no outward stimulus. The promise or expectation of some badge of distinction as a reward for heroism or gallantry in the field was sufficient, in his opinion, to incite young officers ambitious of honour and reckless of their own lives to rush into rash enterprises without consulting their superiors. Discipline, or, in other words, subjection to lawful authority, he esteemed the highest ornament in every young soldier; no heroic action could atone for any violation of this primary duty.

It is not necessary here to expose the fallacy of such reasoning. Our soldiers were quite as brave when there was no Victoria Cross at all as they are at the present moment: that Cross was intended not to _create_, but to _reward_ valour. The British soldier requires no outward stimulus, no promised reward, to incite him to do his duty: a true hero will prove himself to be a hero, because it is his nature to be so, and he cannot help it. Nelson never thought of ribbons or peerages when he was fighting our battles at sea; his only ambition was to conquer or to die. The soldier or sailor who distinguishes himself in action never dreams of reward: he is a hero, and he does heroic deeds almost without knowing it. Of all the men who wear the Victoria Cross upon their breasts, there is not one, we believe, who ever thought of that badge of distinction at the moment he earned it. It was innate heroism or tender humanity that placed him at the head of the forlorn hope, or led him to risk his own life to rescue a wounded comrade. The man who would do such deeds from such a purely mercenary motive as the love of applause, would be unworthy of the name of soldier; his selfishness would be even more remarkable than his courage. The Queen’s own Cross was not intended to encourage such selfishness, or to reward such courage; nor has it ever done so. Many of those who wear it were surprised at its being awarded to them, so humble was their estimate of the value of the deeds by which they obtained it; no one ever performed those deeds for the purpose of being awarded the Victoria Cross. It is the expression of our national admiration for deeds which demand some public recognition, and cannot be adequately rewarded in any other way.

These remarks have been elicited by the strictures with which Sir Colin Campbell accompanied the letter of expostulation from the officers of the 64th Regiment, which he forwarded to His Royal Highness the Duke of Cambridge. In that letter they complained, with much appearance of reason, that their own honour and that of the regiment had been compromised by an officer of the staff usurping the place of Major Stirling, the officer in command, when there was nothing to justify him in doing so. Major Stirling was at the head of his regiment, and the 64th were discharging the duty assigned to them. If he was not mounted, there was a sufficient reason for this: his horse had been wounded by the bursting of a shell, and was unable to carry him. If the regiment had betrayed any irresolution, or hesitated to advance, the occasion might have justified young Havelock’s interference; but they positively denied that such was the case, and requested that some steps might be taken to vindicate their honour, which had been impugned by awarding the Victoria Cross to one whose conduct was more deserving of censure than of praise.

It is difficult to take a cool, dispassionate view of this affair; our sympathies are naturally with the young lieutenant, but we must endeavour to be just. No one can find fault with the officers of the 64th for writing such a letter: to a soldier reputation is everything; and the fair fame of a regiment, like that of a woman, if once lost can never be regained. Every regiment in the service has its distinctive character, as much as every soldier who belongs to it; it was clearly, therefore, the duty of the officers of the 64th to protest against a measure which reflected on them and the soldiers under their command. Their silence would have been a tacit admission that there was ground for such reflections; their protest was a natural appeal against them.

We have the sincerest respect for the memory of General Havelock: no one can read his life, or trace his career, without being convinced that he was a good man and a gallant soldier. This conviction, however, does not imply that he was perfect, or exempt from those weaknesses to which the very best men are subject. A father is always liable to the charge of partiality when judging of the merits of his own son, and is often blinded by paternal affection to the actual merits of the case. It would be improper for him to form one of a jury while his son was being tried, much more so to sit upon the bench as the presiding judge. This was the position which General Havelock occupied on this occasion, and we must not blame him too much if, in his anxious desire to do justice to his son, he inadvertently failed to do justice to Major Stirling, and the officers and men of the 64th Regiment. He acknowledges that Lieutenant Havelock placed himself on his horse in front of the centre of the 64th, and that he did so without any orders from him. He admits the fact: the only question is, was he justified in doing so? If the regiment had been repulsed, or had hesitated to carry out the orders they had received, any officer of the staff would have been justified in taking the command, and in leading them on to victory. It has never been attempted to be shown that such was the case. The 64th were steadily advancing under the command of Major Stirling, when Lieutenant Havelock, acting on the impulse of the moment, rushed forward and placed himself at their head. The general, in his telegram, contrasts the position occupied by Major Stirling with that occupied by his son:—“Major Stirling, commanding the regiment, was in front, dismounted; but the lieutenant continued to move steadily on in front of the regiment, at a foot pace, on his horse.” It is unfortunate that he should have omitted to state that Major Stirling was dismounted because his horse had been wounded by the bursting of a shell; there would thus have been no ground for the suspicion that he was dismounted from choice, and not from necessity. It may be that the general was ignorant of this fact; but he ought to have ascertained why Major Stirling was dismounted before he mentioned it in a telegram, which must, sooner or later, become public. The indignation of the officers and men of the 64th was only natural, and Sir Colin Campbell truly expresses their feeling when he says, “By such despatches as the one alluded to it is made to appear to the world that a regiment would have proved wanting in courage, except for an accidental circumstance; such a reflection is most galling to British soldiers, indeed, is almost intolerable, and the fact is remembered against it by all the other corps in Her Majesty’s service. Soldiers feel such things most keenly. I would, therefore, beg leave to dwell on the injustice sometimes done by general officers when they give a public preference to those attached to them, over old officers who are charged with the most difficult and responsible duties.”

No one will accuse Sir Colin of having ever been influenced by this undue preference; his desire ever was to do justice to all, and he saw no merit in any action which was not strictly connected with the discharge of duty. He had no sympathy with impulsive acts of bravery, because he considered them to be subversive of discipline, and often injurious to others. At the battle of the Alma he threatened the 42nd with a punishment which they all dreaded, if they left the ranks to succour the wounded; at the relief of Lucknow he publicly reprimanded a Highland officer, his personal friend, who had left his regiment to show him a flag which he had just taken from the enemy. He was actuated by no personal feeling, he was only expressing his own inward conviction when he thus alluded to Lieutenant Havelock’s impulsive act. “This instance is one of many in which, since the institution of the Victoria Cross, advantage has been taken by young aides-de-camp and other staff-officers to place themselves in prominent situations for the purpose of attracting attention. To them life is of little value, as compared with the gain of public honour; but they do not reflect, and the generals to whom they belong do not reflect, on the cruel injustice thus done to gallant officers, who, beside the excitement of the moment of action, have all the responsibility attendant on this situation.”

Sir Colin’s judgment, in estimating the motives by which Lieutenant Havelock was actuated in placing himself at the head of the 64th Regiment, was evidently biassed by the prejudices he entertained against the Victoria Cross. There is no reason to believe that the love of public honour, or any such selfish feeling, induced that gallant officer to expose his life; his own anxious desire that his conduct should be overlooked proves the contrary. If his object had been to obtain the Victoria Cross, he would certainly never have persuaded his father to suppress the telegram in which he recommended him for that honour. His father’s good fame was dearer to him than any honour which his country could confer, and he knew that his father could not allude to him as he had done without raising a storm of opposition. He wished, therefore, that the matter should be overlooked and forgotten. He had acted on the impulse of the moment; all depended on the steadiness with which the 64th advanced; he saw them without a mounted leader, and, without stopping to inquire the cause, he rushed forward and placed himself at their head. When he discovered afterwards that Major Stirling’s horse was wounded, and that he had supplanted that officer in the command of his regiment while faithfully discharging his duty, he must have felt that he had inadvertently treated him with injustice, and that the public recognition of his conduct as desiring reward would increase the wrong. He owed Major Stirling an apology for having usurped his place, but he had done nothing to earn the Victoria Cross, which was never intended to be an incentive to impulsive acts of undisciplined valour. It must have been with feelings of surprise and regret that he read his father’s telegram, which was not published in India till after his death, and learned that the Victoria Cross had been awarded to him for this particular deed. In the interval he had done other deeds of valour which fully merited this honour, and excited the admiration of every British soldier in India; it was unfortunate that the father, in his anxious desire to do justice to the son, should not have waited a little longer.

The remonstrance on the part of the officers of the 64th Regiment was only natural and just; it was their duty to vindicate their own honour now that Major Stirling was no longer able to answer for himself and for them. That unfortunate officer died soon after he was promoted to the rank of lieutenant-colonel, on the special recommendation of General Havelock, for the part he acted at the battle of Cawnpore. This fact is sufficient to prove that he had not failed in his duty, and that there was nothing in his conduct to justify another in usurping his place. The general, also, bestowed the highest praise upon the regiment. In his despatch, after the battle, he says: “Nor was the gallant 64th behind; charging with equal bravery another village on the left, and firing four volleys as they rapidly advanced up the rising ground, they soon made the place their own, and captured its three guns.... But the 64th, led by Major Stirling and my aide-de-camp, who had placed himself at their front, were not to be denied. Their rear showed the ground strewed with wounded, but on they silently and steadily came; then, with a cheer, charged and captured the unwieldy trophy of their valour.” In the general order, which appeared on the morning after the battle, he says: “64th, you have put to silence the jibes of your enemies throughout India. Your fire was reserved till you saw the colour of your enemies’ moustaches—this gave us the victory.” It is unfortunate that the general should have revived those jibes, by making it appear to the world that the 64th would have failed in the hour of danger, had it not been that his own son placed himself at their head.

These remarks, we trust, will not be misunderstood. We willingly acquit the present Sir H. Havelock of all blame in the matter. He did not wish to obtain the Victoria Cross for this particular act; it was, in a measure, forced upon him without his knowledge or consent. But having once obtained it, he was determined to show that none could be more worthy to wear it. He acted as deputy-assistant adjutant-general to the army which advanced under the command of his father and Sir J. Outram for the relief of Lucknow, and greatly distinguished himself at the passage of the Charbagh bridge, where the enemy offered an obstinate resistance to our entrance. From this bridge to the Residency was a distance of about two miles; and this interval was intersected by trenches, traversed by palisades, and commanded by loopholed houses. Between eight and nine o’clock on the morning of the 25th of September, 1857, the army of rescue received the order to advance; as soon as the first brigade, under the command of Sir J. Outram, had passed the advanced picket, they were assailed by a heavy fire in front, and Captain Maude, R.A., pushed bravely forward with the loss of one-third of his men. His coolness and courage opened a passage for our army till they reached the Charbagh bridge, which crosses the canal. This bridge was defended by six guns—one of them a 24-pounder—which swept the passage and threatened destruction to all who approached. Here the enemy had resolved to make their stand, and no position could have been better chosen. The houses on either side were loopholed and flat-roofed, each one forming a separate fortress, from which the enemy could fire upon our men with comparative safety. So severe was the enemy’s fire that our troops were obliged to halt for a time, and to lie down wherever they could find shelter. Owing to the narrowness of the road, only two of Maude’s guns could be brought forward, and the men who worked them, being without cover, were killed or wounded, so that they had to be replaced by volunteers from the infantry. General Neile, who commanded the first brigade in the absence of Sir James Outram, ordered the Madras Fusiliers to advance and to storm the enemy’s battery. The words had scarcely passed the general’s lips when young Arnold, of the Fusiliers, who was ever first when danger was to be faced, dashed across the bridge followed by a few of his men. Two mounted staff-officers, Colonel Tytler and Lieutenant Havelock, swept across the bridge with this little band of heroes, who were assailed by a storm of grape from the enemy’s battery. Arnold was shot through both legs; Colonel Tytler’s horse was killed; few of the little band survived that fatal fire. Lieutenant Havelock was the only one who appeared on the bridge when the smoke cleared away; seated calmly on his horse, the mark for a hundred bullets, he waved his sword in the air, and encouraged the Fusiliers, by voice and gesture, to advance. Wherever an officer leads the way the British soldier will not hesitate to follow; officers and men dashed forward over the prostrate bodies of their comrades amidst a storm of grape, seized the enemy’s guns, and bayoneted all who dared to resist their onset. It would be difficult to overestimate the value of Lieutenant Havelock’s gallant conduct on this occasion. He seemed to bear a charmed life, and his gallant stand on the Charbagh bridge, when all around him had fallen or been put _hors de combat_, ought never to be forgotten. In the days of chivalry such a deed would have won him his spurs; no one will attempt to deny that it fully entitled him to the Victoria Cross. Sir James Outram, who came up in time to witness the rush of the Fusiliers and the capture of the enemy’s battery, thus alludes to his conduct in a letter addressed to his father: “Throughout the tremendous fire of guns and musketry which the enemy directed across the Charbagh bridge, Lieutenant Havelock, with the Madras Fusiliers, stormed the bridge, took the guns, and cleared the streets sufficiently to allow of the troops in the rear closing up. I cannot conceive a more daring act than thus forcing the bridge; and the officers who led the Fusiliers on that occasion, in my opinion, most richly deserve promotion. But hazardous as was their position, they being on foot, and, therefore, not readily distinguished from their men, risked little comparatively with Lieutenant Havelock, the only officer on horseback, who cheered the men on at their head, and became the target of the enemy’s musketry. I shall feel truly delighted to learn that you accept my recommendation of this brave officer, and I shall deeply regret having divested myself of the command during the advance on Lucknow, if, from what I regard as a morbidly sensitive delicacy, you withhold from Lieutenant Havelock, because he is your relative, the reward to which, as a soldier, he has so unmistakably established a first claim.”

General Havelock, being ignorant of the result of his first recommendation, cordially adopted the suggestion of “one whose proved gallantry and devotion to the service peculiarly fitted him to judge of these qualities in another,” and recommended Captain Maude, R. A., and Lieutenant Havelock for the Victoria Cross. Intermediately, before his despatch could reach England, the Cross had been awarded to Lieutenant Havelock for his services at the battle of Cawnpore, and no additional honour was conferred upon him. In terms of the Royal Warrant of the 29th of January, 1856, those who, after receiving the Cross, perform a second act of distinguished bravery, may be rewarded with an additional clasp or bar, and Sir James Outram was much disappointed that this reward was not conferred upon Lieutenant Havelock. That he had fairly earned it at the Charbagh bridge, cannot be denied even by those who dispute his claims at the battle of Cawnpore; it is easy to conceive, but unnecessary to specify, the reasons why it was withheld from him. It is sometimes good for young soldiers “to learn to labour and to wait:” the son would have lost nothing if this truth had been present to the father’s mind after the action at Cawnpore.

We come now to the particular incident which afforded Private Henry Ward, 78th Highlanders, an opportunity of gaining that Cross which was also to be worn by him whose life he saved. After cheering on the Fusiliers to victory, Lieutenant Havelock received orders to look to the safety of the convoy, as the baggage, the wounded, and the followers defiled over the bridge. The heroic bravery of the 78th, who performed the convoy, repelled every attack of the enemy, and, after a sanguinary struggle of three hours, the last waggon crossed the bridge. Lieutenant Havelock had just given orders for the Highlanders to be withdrawn, when he was shot by a musket-ball through the left elbow joint, and fell down insensible. No time was to be lost; he was raised from the ground, placed in a doolie, and carried forward with the other wounded. In the chapter on Dr. Home and the Victoria Cross we will tell how it fared with our wounded on that fearful night, and the gallant Havelock would have been butchered with those who fell into the hands of the enemy, if Henry Ward had not stood by him as his guardian angel. When the convoy of litters containing the wounded, guided by Mr. Thornhill, of the Civil Service, who had mistaken the way, entered a large open square they were enveloped in the enemy’s fire, and the escort, consulting their own safety, rushed across, leaving the litters behind. A little band of heroes still stood by the wounded, and braved that murderous fire; among these was Henry Ward, who had charge of Lieutenant Havelock’s doolie. When the native doolie bearers threw down their burdens and fled, Henry Ward encouraged his to remain, and to press forward through that fearful fire. One of his comrades, Private Pilkington, who belonged to the escort, was wounded, and knowing the fate that awaited him if left behind, threw himself into the doolie where Havelock lay. The bearers were about to drop their double load and to make their escape, when Ward, who was too generous to leave a comrade behind, compelled them to press on, and never left the doolie till it reached the Residency. The wounded in the other doolies were murdered by the enemy to the number of thirty or forty, and Lieutenant Havelock’s escape is almost miraculous. He owes his life to Henry Ward, who for this act of intrepid gallantry was rewarded with the Victoria Cross.

Lieutenant Havelock succeeded his father in the baronetcy, and the pension of 1000_l._ per annum which had been awarded to him by Government. Before he left India, in 1859, he had attained the brevet rank of lieutenant-colonel, and obtained his company in the 18th Royal Irish. We have already mentioned that the Victoria Cross was conferred upon him in March, 1858, and on his return to England it was affixed to his breast by the hands of our gracious Sovereign, and the memory of the father was thus honoured in the person of the son. Amid the honours and acclamations which awaited his return, he did not forget the gallant Highlander who saved his life. Henry Ward accompanied him to Aldershot, where he was employed on the staff as his servant, but occupied rather the place of a humble friend. Master and servant were both decorated with the Victoria Cross, and bound together by closer ties than that relation usually implies. Ward was proud of his master, and, we need scarcely add, that his master was proud of Ward. A feeling of justice compels us to mention that Henry Ward, though he has served his time in a Highland regiment, is not a Highlander by birth; he is a native of Norfolk, but, like many other Englishmen who have assumed the tartan, he has the _esprit de corps_ quite as strong as if he were a genuine son of the Gael.

When, in 1863, the 2nd battalion of the 18th Royal Irish were ordered to New Zealand, to aid in repressing the Maori rebellion, Lieutenant-Colonel Sir H. M. Havelock proved his devotion to his country by at once resigning his staff appointment, and hastening to rejoin his regiment. If the rules of the service had permitted it, Henry Ward would have accompanied him, and shared in the dangers of Maori warfare; as it was he had to return to his regiment, the gallant 78th. The military career of Lieutenant-Colonel Havelock in New Zealand has been as distinguished as in India. Soon after his arrival he was appointed to the staff in the Quarter Master General’s department, and continued to hold that appointment till he left for England, in the beginning of 1865. In February, 1864, he exhibited great gallantry during a skirmish with the enemy at Mangapiko, in the Waikato; the rebels had attacked a party of our men, who were imprudently bathing in the river, and would have cut them off, if Lieutenant-Colonel Havelock had not hastily collected a small band of imperial and colonial forces, and hurried to their assistance. After a smart engagement the rebels were dispersed, and the colonial officer, who co-operated with Lieutenant-Colonel Havelock, was recommended for the Victoria Cross, though he occupied a subordinate place, and acted a less distinguished part. His leader had already obtained this honour, but we mention this circumstance to show that he has earned it again and again. At the capture of the pa, at Orakau, on the 1st of April, 1864, he exposed his life with a boldness almost bordering on recklessness, and contributed much to the success of the day by the promptitude with which he brought up the mortars from Awamutu, when every other expedient had failed. A gallant soldier, a good Christian, he is worthy of the name he bears and of the honours he has received, while his conduct to Henry Ward proves that he can appreciate bravery in others, and that he is not ungrateful to the man who saved his life.