CHAPTER XVI.

LIEUTENANT ANDREW CATHCART BOGLE, V.C., 78TH HIGHLANDERS (NOW CAPTAIN 10TH FOOT).

All our readers are more or less familiar with the distinguished part which the 78th Highlanders acted in the suppression of the Indian Mutiny. In our last chapter we showed how Henry Ward, a gallant private of this regiment, won the Victoria Cross by saving the life of the present Sir H. M. Havelock, then a lieutenant in the 10th Regiment, when he was severely wounded at the relief of Lucknow. The high opinion which the elder Havelock had formed of the Highlanders, when they were serving under him on the Euphrates during the Persian war, led him to rejoice when he found that they formed part of the moveable column with which he was to advance for the relief of Cawnpore. He thus alludes to them in one of his confidential reports:—“There is a fine spirit in the ranks of this regiment. I am given to understand that it behaved remarkably well at the affair of Rhooshab, near Bushire, which took place before I reached the army; and during the naval action on the Euphrates, and its landing here (in Persia); its steadiness, zeal, and activity under my own observation were conspicuous. The men have been subjected in this service to a good deal of exposure, to extremes of climate, and have had heavy work to execute with their entrenching tools, in constructing redoubts and making roads. They have been, while I had the opportunity of watching them, most cheerful, and have never seemed to regret or complain of anything but that they had no farther chance of meeting the enemy. I am convinced the regiment would be second to none in the service if its high military qualities were drawn forth. It is proud of its colours, its tartan, and its former achievements.”

The battle of Cawnpore, fought on the 16th of July, 1857, justified the opinion thus expressed, and proved that the wearers of the tartan were worthy of their predecessors who conquered at Maida and Assaye. Our victory was complete; but it failed to save the lives of the helpless women and children who had fallen into the hands of that bloodthirsty monster Nana Sahib, whose name will ever live in the annals of the Indian mutiny as the impersonation of all that is perfidious and cruel. He was the adopted son of Bajee Row, the Peishwa, or head of the ancient Mahratta confederacy, and proved himself worthy of such a father. Bajee Row, in 1818, endeavoured in the most treacherous manner to destroy Mr. Mountstuart Elphinstone, the British resident at his court; but, having failed in this attempt, he was driven from Poona, his capital, and, after being chased through the country for several months, was defeated at the battle of Kirkee. His power was thoroughly crushed, so that he might have been forced to surrender at discretion; but he was admitted to terms, and endowed with an annuity of 90,000_l._, which he lived to enjoy for thirty-two years. After his death his immense wealth was inherited by his adopted son, who had established himself at Bithoor, about sixteen miles from Cawnpore, and lived on terms of intimacy with the officers of the garrison, who never suspected his loyalty or good faith. For years he had contrived to dissemble the bitter spirit of hostility to the English which was rankling at his heart, and which sprang from no other cause than the withdrawal of the pension enjoyed by his father. When the native troops at Cawnpore began to exhibit symptoms of disaffection, he volunteered to aid Sir H. Wheeler in protecting the treasury from their rapacity, and his offer was accepted. It was only when the Sepoys broke into open mutiny that he threw off the mask, placed himself at their head, and ruthlessly butchered all the European and native Christians who had not been able to escape to the entrenchment. With his thirst for blood whetted rather than allayed by this carnage, he now closed round the entrenchment, the last refuge of the Europeans, and directed all his efforts to compel the gallant little garrison to surrender. Their heroic defence, protracted from day to day and from week to week, in the vain hope of relief, amid exposure, privation, and the incessant fire of the enemy’s artillery, is one of the most touching episodes in the history of British India, and cannot be read without a feeling of deep emotion. The men would rather have died sword in hand than negotiate with the murderer of the fugitives from Futtyghur; but their hearts were melted by the sufferings of the helpless women and children crouching in holes dug out beneath the walls of the entrenchment; and for their sakes, on the very day when Havelock assumed command of the column intended for their relief, they began to think of capitulating.

The cannonade had continued for more than three weeks, and of the 870 persons who survived, 330 were women and children. While they were still hesitating, a message was brought from Nana Sahib, offering the garrison a safe conduct to Allahabad, with permission to take their arms, baggage, and ammunition with them, on condition that they surrendered at once. Sir H. Wheeler, anxious if possible to save the women and children from that death which was already staring them in the face, reluctantly agreed to accept this offer: he seems to have done so contrary to his better reason, and almost with a presentiment of the calamity that was about to overtake them. But it seemed their only chance of safety, and a fearful responsibility would devolve upon him if he neglected or rejected it. The Nana took an oath on the waters of the Ganges, which to a Hindoo and a Brahmin is the most sacred and binding of all oaths, that he would carry out the terms of capitulation to the very letter; and it was scarcely conceivable that he could prove faithless to his engagement, and perjure himself. They knew nothing of his deep-rooted hatred of the English race, his long-cherished scheme of revenge, his burning thirst for human blood; they remembered only his pleasant parties at Bithoor, and imagined that from such a man they had nothing to dread. At first all seemed to be well: when they left the entrenchment, they found boats prepared to convey them to Allahabad, and the women and children were greeted with expressions of sympathy and solicitude, which were as sincere as the caresses the tiger bestows on its victims. No sooner were the whole party seated in the boats than three signal guns were fired, and a destructive fire was opened on the helpless fugitives from guns concealed along the bank, and the pieces with which the rebels were armed. The shrieks of despairing mothers, clasping their infant offspring to their breasts, and striving to shield them from the murderous fire, were heard amid the booming of the guns, the rattle of musketry, and the maddening yells of the inhuman fiends to whom the work of destruction was entrusted. It was a pre-concerted massacre: bands of native infantry and cavalry had been stationed on either bank of the river to cut off the retreat of those who tried to escape from the boats by swimming; only one or two contrived to elude their vigilance, and to reach a place of safety. Two hundred women and children were taken back to the town: with solemn hands and beating heart we draw the veil of silence over their fate. The well at Cawnpore can never be forgotten, and the feeling of confidence which we once reposed in the natives of India may not be restored for centuries.

After his victory of the 16th of July, Havelock allowed his exhausted troops to rest for the night on the field of battle, and entered the town the following morning. No language can describe the scenes of horror which greeted them on every side when they reached the entrenchment, and learned the hideous revelations of the slaughter-house and the well. It was enough to melt a heart of adamant; and we know that men, usually callous and indifferent to human suffering, cannot allude to what they witnessed on that day without a startled expression, as if the scene were still before them. Some will tell you, that for nights after they woke up in an agony of terror, so powerful was the impression left on their minds by that fearful spectacle. The floor of the slaughter-house was covered with blood; the lower part of the walls was marked with sword-cuts aimed at the helpless creatures crouching together on the ground; tresses of long hair were still adhering to the walls and pillars; articles of female attire were scattered about saturated with the blood of those who once had worn them; leaves of the Bible, of the Prayer Book, and of a work entitled “Preparation for Death,” were picked up on every side by the horror-struck soldiers. One man picked up a piece of paper with the words “Ned’s hair, with love,” written on it; on opening it he found a lock of boy’s hair; his mother had not parted with it till she parted with life. On the walls, written in pencil, or scratched in the plaster, were such inscriptions as these:—“Think of us;” “Avenge us;” “Your wives and families are here in misery, and at the disposal of savages;” “Oh, oh! my child, my child!” The last words are the most touching of all; there was no thirst for vengeance, no solicitude for self, in that mother’s breast; her only thought was of her child, and its impending fate. Well might one of the officers exclaim—“Oh! how thankful I am that I have no wife, no sisters out here!” One sickens and shudders at the very thought of such scenes: what effect must they have produced on those who actually witnessed them, who saw the blood-stained floor, and the limbs of murdered babes and women protruding from the well into which they had been thrown? The deepest emotions are those which can find no expression: few words were spoken; but as the Highlanders looked into one another’s faces, a strange expression came over them: the rugged brows were knit, the quivering lips were sternly compressed, and the fierce glare of the eye told of the conflicting passions within. There was unspeakable pity for those tender babes and women so cruelly murdered; but stronger and more overwhelming was the thirst for vengeance which found expression on many a battle-field, in the shout “Remember Cawnpore!” and in the deadly bayonet thrust. The deepest emotion was excited by the discovery of the body of Sir Hugh Wheeler’s daughter, for it was already whispered among the soldiers that this heroic woman had displayed the spirit of a Judith in avenging her insulted honour. The exact circumstances attendant on her death will never be known; but it is certain that by her example she taught her countrywomen to prefer death to dishonour. In one version of the story, she shot five Sepoys in succession with a revolver, and then threw herself into a well to escape from the others; in another version, she is said to have cut off the heads of no less than five men with a sword; while Mr. Shepherd, one of the survivors of the massacre, relates that, having been forced by a trooper of the 2nd Native Cavalry to accompany him to his hut, she rose in the night, seized his sword, killed him and three other men, and then threw herself into a well. It is certain that she behaved like a high-souled English gentlewoman, and there was something in the story of her fate that touched the heart of every soldier that entered Cawnpore. It has been related, that the Highlanders with reverent and loving hands committed her body to the dust; but, before doing so, removed the hair from her head, sent part of it to her relations, and divided the rest among themselves; counted every hair, and swore a solemn oath, that for every one a mutineer should die. We can understand the feeling which might have dictated such an oath; but the expression of it in the manner related, is too sensational and melodramatic for the stern, rugged nature of the Highlanders; it had no foundation in truth, and, like the story of Jessie Brown at Lucknow, was evidently got up for stage effect.

But we must hurry on from these maddening scenes to the battle of Oude, where Captain Boyle, then a lieutenant in the 78th Highlanders, gained the Victoria Cross. The victory of Cawnpore failed to produce that feeling of elation among our soldiers which usually accompanies such an event. The following day a deep silence reigned throughout the encampment, broken at intervals by the melancholy wail of some Highland dirge as the dead were conveyed to their last home; for cholera had begun to decimate our little army, and proved a more formidable foe than the mutineers in arms against us.

As the Nana had still a considerable army under his command, it was considered probable that an attempt would be made to regain Cawnpore, and General Havelock marched his troops on the morning of the 18th of July to a position west of the town, where he was safe from attack, and could intercept the enemy if they tried to advance from Bithoor. By selecting volunteers from the infantry he was enabled to increase his irregular horse from nineteen to sixty, and this small troop rendered important services during the remaining part of the campaign. Dreading that his men might give way to intemperance, he caused the commissariat to buy up all the intoxicating liquors that were to be found in the town, and to give out only such quantities as might be taken with safety. On the morning of the 19th, he learned from the spies who had been sent out to watch the movements of the enemy, that their army was broken up; the Sepoys, seized with a sudden panic, had deserted their ranks, and sought for safety on the other side of the river; the Nana himself had fled from the field on a swift elephant, accompanied by a few of his followers, and never halted in his flight till he reached the kingdom of Oude. On receiving this intelligence, General Havelock despatched a party of his men to take possession of Bithoor; no resistance was offered by the enemy, and the greater part of the plunder which had been carried off from Cawnpore was recovered. That town was not left defenceless; a field-work was constructed, and a small garrison of 300 men was left to occupy it. Having completed his arrangements, he prepared, on the morning of the 21st of July, to advance to the relief of Lucknow. The passage of the Ganges was a most difficult undertaking; the river, swollen by the heavy rains, was more than 1600 yards wide; the bridge of boats had been destroyed by the rebels; the boatmen had disappeared, and it would have been dangerous to entrust the transit of the men to inexperienced hands. After some delay and difficulty, a number of the old boatmen were tempted to return by the promise of pardon for their past misconduct, and additional pay; and in four days the whole of our troops found themselves on the Oude bank of the Ganges, where the general, who had superintended the embarkation in person, joined them. The gallant Neil was left to hold Cawnpore during his absence, and displayed an energy which inspired the minds of the disaffected with terror; he had only three hundred men under his command, but with this little force he restored the _prestige_ of our army throughout the surrounding districts by capturing many rebels, and recovering public property, and by organizing a body of irregular cavalry, which kept the road open between Cawnpore and Allahabad. In addition to this, he had charge of all the sick and wounded who had been left behind; but this heroic man, whose career was soon to be cut short at Lucknow, was indefatigable in the discharge of his numerous duties. It is the characteristic of such men as Havelock, that they can impart to others something of that dauntless courage and unflagging energy by which they themselves are animated.

On the 28th of July, Havelock’s army reached Mungulwar, a village situated six miles from the Ganges, on a ridge elevated about two hundred feet above the surrounding country, where they might have held their ground against all the rebels in Oude. But their only desire was to push on to Lucknow; they might still be in time to rescue the beleaguered garrison from the rebels, who were hemming them in on every side. This desire was strengthened by the arrival of a messenger, who contrived to elude the vigilance of the rebel army at Lucknow, and reached our camp in safety, bringing with him a plan of the town, and a valuable report from Brigadier Inglis, written partly in Greek characters as a measure of precaution. Havelock saw all the danger of the undertaking. “If the worst come to the worst,” he said to his son, “we can only die sword in hand.” Death to him had no terrors: the only question was whether he could fight his way to the Residency with 1500 men, and ten badly-equipped guns. The enemy were closing in upon him in front and rear; he must cross the bridge across the Sye at Bunnee, which the rebels had entrenched and covered with their guns; he must be prepared to repel the 3000 men which the Nana had collected to intercept his retreat. With their minds fresh from the horrors of Cawnpore, there was only one desire among our men—to go on, to conquer or to die. Havelock expressed the feeling of all, when writing to the Government, on the 28th July, he said, “The communications convince me of the extreme delicacy and difficulty of any operation to relieve Inglis; it shall be attempted, however, at every risk.” There spoke the spirit of a true soldier, of one in whose mind every other consideration was subordinate to a sense of duty.

The little army started at daybreak on the morning of the 29th of July, and, after advancing about three miles, reached the town of Oude, which was occupied by the enemy. Their position is thus described by the general, in the despatch which he wrote after the battle:—“The enemy’s right was protected by a swamp, which could neither be forced nor turned; his advance was drawn up in a garden enclosure, which, in this warlike district, had, purposely or accidentally, assumed the form of a bastion. The rest of his (advance) force was posted in and behind a village, the houses of which were loopholed. The passage between the village and the town of Oude is narrow. The town itself extended three quarters of a mile to our right. The flooded state of the country precluded the possibility of turning in this direction. The swamp shut us in on the left. Thus an attack in front became unavoidable.”

The general perceived that the enemy enjoyed every advantage of position, but he lost no time in commencing the attack. The passage between the village and the town of Oude was very narrow, but it was along this passage that our troops had to advance, as they were hemmed in by the swamp on one flank, and on the other by the floods which had swept over the adjoining country. There were two regiments in whose courage and steadiness under fire the general had the fullest confidence; to them was assigned the post of honour. On the 29th of July, about six o’clock in the morning, the 78th Highlanders and the 1st Madras Fusiliers advanced along the passage, supported by two guns, and met with a determined resistance. The bastioned enclosure was carried at the point of the bayonet, and the enemy fell back on the village, where they opened a destructive fire upon our men from the loopholed houses. On this the general ordered the 64th and 84th Regiments to attack a gateway on the left, and the 78th Highlanders to force an entrance by a narrow passage on the right. Private Patrick Cavanagh, of the 64th Regiment, was the first to clear the wall behind which the enemy were sheltered; he stood there alone, confronted by at least a dozen of troopers, but the intrepid Irishman never dreamed of turning his back on the foe. He stood there immovable as a rock, till he was literally cut to pieces before his comrades could come to his aid; by his side lay three of the enemy, whom he had killed with his own hand. Havelock was ever ready to distinguish merit wherever it appeared, and after the battle he thus alluded to this incident: “There were men among you whom I must laud to the skies. Private Patrick Cavanagh, of the 64th, died gloriously, hacked to pieces by the enemy, when setting a brilliant example to his comrades. Had he survived, he should have worn the Victoria Cross, which never could have glittered on a braver breast. But his name will be remembered as long as Ireland produces and loves gallant soldiers.”

Another gallant soldier, who equally distinguished himself on this occasion, met with a better fate. When the 78th Highlanders advanced along the narrow passage to the right, they found the end of it barricaded by a wall breast high, with the houses loopholed on either side. The enemy were thus enabled to bring a cross fire to bear upon our men as they approached the wall, and it was necessary to dislodge them. This task was assigned to the Light Company of the 78th Highlanders, who swarmed around the gateway, and strove in vain to effect an entrance. Crowded together in a narrow space, the men were exposed to the enemy’s cross fire without being able to retaliate, and several of them were struck down. They tried the wall on every side, like bees rushing against a hive the door of which has been closed, but it resisted all their efforts. A gun was sent for to enlarge the opening and break down the barricade, but the gunners, being exposed to the enemy’s fire, were soon either killed or wounded. Little impression can be made on a mud wall by artillery, and the enemy, emboldened by their temporary success, began to believe their position to be impregnable. But the sequel proved that it was not so. Andrew Cathcart Bogle, a young lieutenant of the 78th, saw before him an opportunity of distinction, by which he did not fail to profit; he knew that by forcing that gateway he was holding his life in his hand, but he was prepared for such a sacrifice if his country required it. Collecting a few men of his own regiment, whom he knew and could trust, he gave the word of command, and charged in at their head through the narrow opening in the gateway. A shower of bullets descended on the devoted little band, but on they went, driving the enemy before them and clearing the way for their comrades, who could not refuse to follow such an example. The gallant leader of this forlorn hope was struck down with the cheer of victory on his lips, but strong arms raised him gently from the ground, and bore him to a place of safety. He was severely wounded, but he thought little of his wounds when, on the following day, he received a visit from the general, who esteemed it his duty to thank him personally for the daring courage he had displayed, and the noble example he had set before his men. Nor did Havelock’s appreciation of his conduct end here; he was resolved that his courage should meet with a more signal and permanent form of reward than any language, however complimentary, could convey, and drew up a special report of his gallantry, which was forwarded to His Royal Highness the Commander-in-Chief. In consequence of this report, the young lieutenant, who soon recovered from his wounds, and has done good service to his country elsewhere, was decorated with the Victoria Cross, which he still continues to wear on his manly breast. Over the gateway at Oude might well have been inscribed the words which Dante read over another gateway, and has bequeathed to us in his “Inferno”—

“Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch’ entrate”—

but true courage rises superior to every difficulty, and the gleaming sword can arrest hope in her flight.

The greatest results often bring on the smallest events, and it is the work of the historian to trace the connexion between effects and their causes. The charge through the gateway at Oude was not an isolated act of bravery, important only to the immediate actors; it was one of those daring deeds which tell upon armies, and inspire them with confidence in their own courage. The smallest reverse may lead to a panic, and strip a regiment or an army of that _prestige_ which it has already acquired; while one daring deed thrills with electric force through officers and men, and produces the conviction that they are invincible. Such a conviction was a needful element of power in such an army as Havelock’s, where every man had to confront ten of the enemy, and to fight as if the rescue of Lucknow depended on his single arm. Regarded in this light, the entrance through the gateway at Oude may be regarded as one of the most important events in the Indian campaign, and the young Highlander who led the forlorn hope on that occasion was well entitled to the Cross of Valour, and deserves to live in the annals of the Indian campaign. He now belongs to a different regiment, but his heart still warms at the sight of the tartan, and he is not likely ever to forget how his trusty Highlanders stood by him on that day.

The rebels fought on this occasion with a courage worthy of a better cause; when the village was set on fire, they continued to occupy the loopholed houses, and offered the most determined resistance. But nothing could withstand the ardour of our troops; they forced their way through the village, drove the enemy before them, and captured their guns. At length our little army was enabled to debouch between the village and the town of Oude, where they saw the rebels drawn up in great strength in an open plain—infantry, cavalry, and artillery. Havelock perceived at once that their object was to obtain possession of the town, and thus arrest him on his first day’s march. Without a moment’s hesitation he pushed forward his troops, already elated with success, till they reached a patch of dry ground, about half-a-mile in extent, surrounded on every side by swamps. Having thus obtained a position between Oude and Lucknow, he drew up his force in line, with four guns in the centre and two on each wing, all bearing on the high road in front, along which the enemy were rapidly advancing. The latter were vastly superior in numbers, but Havelock, unencumbered with native troops, could count on the fidelity and courage of his men, and calmly awaited the approach of the rebels, till they halted in front of our line, and commenced the action. Our artillery then opened fire upon them, and tore through their dense columns massed together on the narrow highway; every discharge left an open passage in their ranks, and told how well our gunners had done their work. In vain they attempted to deploy their force and escape our murderous fire; their guns were engulphed in the swamp; the bullets from our Enfield rifles emptied the saddles of their cavalry; all discipline was at an end; the enemy fled before us in confusion. Then arose the cry, “Remember Cawnpore!” and hundreds of our soldiers, thirsting for vengeance, leaped into the swamp, wading up to the knee and sometimes to the waist, in pursuit of the fugitives, who met with all the mercy they deserved. As the high road was crowded with them, two guns were rapidly moved forward, and their heavy fire prevented them from rallying, and completed their discomfiture. The enemy’s artillerymen fought with desperate courage; when their companions in guilt thought only of consulting their safety by flight, they stood by their guns to the last, and scorned to retreat. If all the rebels had fought with the same spirit the result might have been different; as it was, our victory was complete; fifteen guns fell into our hands; the high road was covered with heaps of dead and wounded; and the enemy’s loss would have been still greater, if we had had cavalry to follow up the pursuit.

Thus ended the action at Oude, with a loss of 300 men to the enemy. Havelock, acting on the principle of the ancient Roman, who thought that nothing was done so long as anything remained to be done, took immediate steps for following up his success; after a halt of three hours for refreshment, the bugle sounded, the men fell into their ranks, and marched forward to Busherutgunge. This was a walled town, intersected by the Lucknow road, with wet ditches and a gate defended by a round tower, four pieces of cannon, and loopholed buildings within the walls; on the other side was a deep broad pond, or sheet of water, crossed by a causeway. It was a position of such strength, that a few brave men might have defended it for days against a whole army; but the rebels, discouraged by their recent reverses, were unable to withstand the impetuosity of our attack. To the Highlanders and Fusiliers, in whom he could always trust, Havelock gave orders to advance, under cover of the guns, to capture the earthworks and enter the town, while the 64th Regiment made a flank movement to the left, so as to cut off all communication with the town by the chaussée which crossed the lake. The attacking party, being exposed to a heavy fire, were ordered to lie down for a little, till our artillery had weakened the enemy’s defences, and caused their fire to slacken; then, on receiving the order to advance, they sprung to their feet, rushed to the trench, cleared it at a bound, and passed through the gate with that wild cheer at which the enemy had already learned to tremble. At the same time the 64th appeared in their rear, and the discomfiture of the enemy was complete; abandoning their guns, they fled in confusion through the town and over the causeway, pursued by the victors. If the 64th had executed the orders they received, and taken possession of the causeway, the whole body of the rebels, intercepted in their flight, might have been put to the sword or taken prisoners; but that regiment for some unknown reason lagged behind, and failed to reach their destination in sufficient time to cut off the enemy’s retreat. In vain the general despatched his aide-de-camp, and urged them to advance; it was too late; the golden moment was past, and night closed in on our weary soldiers, who had been on the move from sunrise to sunset. The general rode on some distance, and then returned by the causeway, which was crowded by the Highlanders and Fusiliers leaning on their arms. All were glad to see the brave old man who had twice led them to victory in one day, and from the ranks rose the enthusiastic cry, “Clear the way for the general!” “My lads,” he replied, with that ready wit which wins the hearts of soldiers, “you have done _that_ to-day already.” Such praise was neither unmerited nor unappreciated by those on whom it was bestowed. “God bless the general!” burst from a hundred lips; they were but a handful of men, but under such a leader they were prepared to withstand a host, and already counted on victory.

Thus, on the 29th of July, 1857, Andrew Cathcart Bogle won the Victoria Cross, and General Havelock two battles. Our loss amounted to twelve killed and seventy-six wounded, while the enemy are supposed to have lost half as many men as our whole army. The value of such actions is not to be calculated by their immediate results so much as by the moral influence they exercise; they did not enable Havelock to advance at once to the relief of Lucknow, but they inspired the men with confidence in their general themselves, and produced the conviction that they would yet subdue the flames of rebellion which were burning so fiercely around them.