CHAPTER VII.

Sir H. Lawrence--Orders for home--Re-cross Sutledge--Jerosha--Scenes of previous engagement--Meerut--Leave for Calcutta--Down Ganges--Col. Cureton's farewell--Dum Dum--Calcutta, city, grand Ball--Sights--Embark for home--Bay of Bengal--Ascension--St. Helena--Doru Cliffs--Boats coming off--Relatives--March to Canterbury--Furlough--London--Meet Sisters and Mother--Deal--Battle--Anniversary--Buckingham Palace--Reviewed by Her Majesty--Claim Discharge--Causes--Take Ship for South Africa.

[Sidenote: Orders for home.]

Peace was proclaimed on the 4th March, and Sir Henry Lawrence was appointed to remain as Resident, with a few of our troops, to protect the young king. On the following day Sir Harry Smith told us the Commander-in-Chief would now send us home, and volunteering would be opened for two regiments, the 3rd Light Dragoons and 9th Lancers. Any of us who chose might remain, however. Under the influence of arrick, a mad drink, the 9th got one, and the 3rd got ninety, of our men. The remnant, with the 31st Foot, left on the 8th of March for Calcutta. Before leaving, we were highly complimented by Lords Hardinge and Gough, and wished a safe voyage. Our bands struck up "Home, Sweet Home," and I remember how sweet the very sound of that air seemed so far away from home,--when one thought of the dear old land, and those dearer still who were uncertain as to whether most of us were living or dead.

[Sidenote: Calcutta. Grand ball.]

Pushing on now, on a different errand, we re-crossed the well-known Sutledge River, came to Ferusha, where we fought on the 22nd and 23rd December, 1845; and, after pitching tents, rambled over the field, one we had left in hot pursuit of the enemy. Words cannot be found to describe our horror on finding all around was still as death; not a living soul to be seen, the village completely deserted, heaps of men, horses and camels lying there for three months unburied; the infantry, just as they fell, clothed complete; the dragoons the same way accoutred and spurred; the horses and camels in the ditch just as they fell. We did as much as we could, and went on towards Meerut, where we arrived on the 2nd May, being met by the band of the 14th Light Dragoons, who played us to the station. We were seven weeks from Lahore. Giving up our horses, we made all preparations for home by Calcutta, 900 miles from Meerut. We now sold our library, distributing the proceeds, together with the benevolent and canteen fund, among the men. This, with our prize money, after being separately awarded, was sent to our army agents in London, to be drawn when we reached home. On the 8th of May we started on foot for Gurmatesa Gaut, on the Ganges, just three days' march, where we were to take boats for Calcutta. Before embarking on the Ganges, a despatch was received from Lord Gough appointing our Colonel, Cureton, Adjutant-General of the Army in Bengal. He bade us a sorrowful good-bye, saying he came out with the regiment in 1822, hoped to go home with them, but this promotion frustrated that. "All the honours I have," said he, "and all the promotions I have received, I attribute to the brave men of the 16th." All shook hands with him, some went so far as to embrace him, and tears were shed, for he was a father to his men. We had a strange voyage down the Ganges, the water being low at this time of the year, and our men did almost as they pleased, so joyful were they at the prospect of going home. Few officers accompanied us, as many went over land to England. Sailing at night was dangerous, our boats were therefore moored; sandbars, stumps of immense trees, and an accumulation of rubbish met us everywhere. Our time was generally passed shooting flying-foxes, monkeys, alligators. We as often shot dead bodies as living, the Hindoos consigning all the dead to the waters of their goddess, Ganga. We reached Dum Dum, twelve miles from Calcutta, on 29th July, 1846, and as the ship at Calcutta was not ready, while she was getting so we took up quarters in the Artillery barracks at this station. Here we had a grand ball given by the citizens, and at which our newly-appointed Colonel and a sergeant's wife made the only couple who came out with the regiment. We had all the grandees of Calcutta up at it. Every tree for miles was illuminated; dancing was kept up all night. At this ball I met a young friend, who had been a comrade of mine, when he was one of us, but who, fortunately, had got married to a wealthy heiress, and was now settled near Calcutta, in a most beautiful mansion. I have introduced the reader before to Calcutta, but it was only a bird's-eye view from on board ship; now, however, as I had leisure to visit it and walk through its streets, I may give a more detailed description of it. Most of the wealthy people live outside, in the suburbs, such as the Dum Dum or Barrackpoor road. The city itself covers an area of sixteen square miles, and has some fine streets; the principal ones, at each corner have stands, where you can hire a pallankeen for a rupee, or two shillings, a day, to go shopping or visiting; four waiters carry it, two in front and two behind. They are beautifully got up, lined with silk cushions and generally have a crimson blind. The old city is of bamboo structure, thatched roofs, mostly inhabited by the lower order of natives. In the city proper the buildings are large and handsome, built mostly of brick, some of stone and marble. The brick houses seem very old, as if they had been built at a very early period. It is quite common to see elephants, mostly bearing some wealthy Rajah in his howda, georgeously attired, towards the water front. They are quite commonly used drawing heavy burdens, logs, &c. It is hardly credible, but they are so sagacious as to be used in bringing messages. I mean such as going alone for water. Camels may be met in strings bringing goods from all points of India. In the evening, the mall of Calcutta is the common cool resort. Here you may see all the fashionables, and people from all parts of the earth. The bazaars are very numerous; in any of them you can purchase for a small sum any article you require. There are also some very fine hotels.

[Sidenote: Embark for home.]

[Sidenote: March to Canterbury.]

On the 14th of August we marched to Calcutta to embark, two hundred and eighty-seven men all told. This was the remnant of eight hundred who marched to the Panjaub in 1845. The hottest day ever known in India was the day we embarked. Twelve men fell dead from the excess of heat; indeed, the authorities were blamed for ordering us out on such a day, on account of having some men who had been wounded, and a number of women and children on board. The captain put to sea at once, to avoid, if possible, any further sickness. On the 19th we got clear into the Bay of Bengal. The monsoons set in, and we had a succession of storms for three weeks. We cleared in good time Point de Galle; rounded Cape of Good Hope in the beginning of October, and ran for St. Helena. Here we took in fresh water. A French man-of-war, with troops from the island of Bourbon, anchored alongside of us. Of course, we fraternized as well as we possibly could, but the associations connected with St. Helena and England were not then as well smoothed down as now. The island stands alone like a large rock in mid-ocean. Passing the island of Ascension, nothing particular occurred till our arrival in the British Channel, on 23rd December, 1846. By daylight we looked on the land we loved, and saw patches of snow here and there, and as we had seen none for fifteen years, it was a sight we enjoyed. We felt all warmed up, and hearts beat high when we saw the white cliffs of Dover. We waited off Deal for a pilot, and being surrounded by bumboats, we found a difference in the desire to cheat with exorbitant prices for bread, butter or cheese, to what we had been used to by native Indians. The Ramsgate tug came off and took us to Gravesend, where we arrived on the evening of the 28th. Hundreds of boats put off, filled with relatives--mothers, sisters, brothers and old sweethearts--to welcome the living heroes, or hear some sad talk of the absent. The sight was heart-rending in some instances. One poor mother, hearing of her son having been killed at Sobraon, threw herself into the water, frantic, and with difficulty was rescued. In the afternoon two war steamers took us aboard for Herne Bay, to save us the march, as our station was Canterbury, and it was distant from the bay only seven miles. On landing, one of the men fell out, and actually knelt and kissed the ground, a bystander in the crowd saying, "Bless his soul, how he loves the old sod;" and many came and shook hands, not only with him but with all within reach. Omnibusses and waggons were ready for the sick, and women and children. We got leave to breakfast for a short time, and what a rush for the hotels. Storming an enemy's fort was nothing to it. Assembling at nine, we marched to Canterbury. Here, the Mayor and Corporation, accompanied by two bands, came to meet us. Between laurel branches in profusion, music from two bands, crowds of ladies and gentlemen in carriages, citizens on foot shouting, huzzahing and handkerchief-waving, we got a right royal reception in the famous old city; and as the officers commanding considered it no use to close the gates, or attempt to confine us within walls, we were allowed two days' leave, to do as we pleased.

[Sidenote: "Home, sweet home."]

On the first of January I received my month's furlough. I started for London. The day was very cold and snowing; how pleasant for me, just home from the hottest spot on earth. A cab soon brought me to Westminster, where my parents resided; I reached home at half-past eleven a.m. My sisters, when I left, were children, in those few years had grown women. One of them opened the door in answer to my knock, and fainted on seeing one of the 16th, not perhaps that she recognized me, as I was bronzed with the sun and heavily bearded. This brought my mother; dear old mother, how one does get fond of mother, when separated from her, and away, as I was in India, from her kind care. Ah, mother, I remember you yet, though I am old now, as you fell into my arms, and almost swooned. My sisters had to remove her, till by the aid of restoratives they got her round; then, such a look, sadness and joy combined. It was me, though the many reports of the fearful suffering of my regiment, she could believe until she saw me herself, whether her eyes would ever see her son again. Yes, mother,

Thy image is still--the dearest impressed on my heart, And the tablet so faithful--in death must be still Ere a trace of that image departs.

My father was, of course, rejoiced to see me, and so were all my old friends and acquaintances. The charges of Aliwal and Sobraon were in every one's mouth, and as I was the only man on leave near my home, I had many an enquiry how I felt, and how this and that was done.

In this way, a month, the extent of my furlough, was not long in passing, and I had to rejoin my regiment. I might have stated before, I was in full charge of my troop all the way home; we had no officers, and I was the senior sergeant. The reader will therefore be as much surprised as I was, on joining my corps, to find the vacancy of troop serjeant-major filled by the promotion of a man from the depôt, without any fault whatever to me, as I was fully competent in every respect, but merely to please the whim of some depôt officer. I was very much stung to think I was the only serjeant left alive at Aliwal, had brought my men home, and that one who had never crossed the English Channel should be promoted over me.

From Canterbury we went to Deal, as a riot was feared at the election. Here we met our old comrades, the 31st Foot, just home from India. In May, 1847, we were ordered to Brighton, in Sussex. Our route lay through Battle, near Hastings, where William the Conqueror defeated Harold, paying a visit to the Abbey. Here the King (Harold) was buried; his tomb is over-grown with ivy. An ancient painting of the battle may be seen in the great hall, with two statues of Saxon warriors on each side. We reached Brighton on the seventh of May. In this fashionable watering-place we commemorated the second anniversary of Aliwal with a grand ball, at which were the Duke of Wellington, Prince Albert, the officers of all the Guards regiments, and the fashionables from the Metropolis; the pavilion was filled on the occasion--twenty of our troopers, medal-men, lining the grand stairway. One entire regiment went to the theatre, where Jenny Lind sang.

[Sidenote: Reviewed by Her Majesty.]

Fearing a Chartist riot in London, at a great meeting to be held on Kensington Common, we were ordered up on the 10th April. We stopped two days, and then proceeded, three troops to Ipswich, five to Norwich. Here we remained till the spring of 1849, breaking young horses, and getting ready for a grand review by Her Majesty. In May we got the route for Hounslow, one troop to Kensington, to do Royal Escort duty. I had the honour of being one of the escort of Her Majesty on the 24th May, from Nine-Elms station to Buckingham Palace. On the 26th following, before the Iron Duke, Prince Albert, Her Majesty, and a host of the aristocracy, we paraded and went through a field-day, charging as we did at Aliwal, and only stopped with the horses' heads over the carriage of Her Majesty. Here, after the review, she pinned on our breasts the Medals for the Punjaub.

Not feeling exactly pleased as to the way I was treated, after many days' serious consideration, I determined to leave the regiment, as I could now claim a free discharge, having completed twelve years' service. I might have remained till my time of double service had expired, when I would be entitled to a pension. Stung by seeing a man my serjeant-major who should not be, and knowing I had earned the step well, I applied for my discharge at once. The Colonel met me with apologies and excuses, promising to recommend me for a Commission, and so on, but feeling the position, if I did get it, would be more than I could manage, on the pay which I would have to support my rank on, I declined, and in time got what I asked for, leaving the corps almost heart-broken.

[Sidenote: Take ship for South Africa.]

In July following I got the appointment of Steward, East India United Service Club, in London, and entered upon those duties immediately. In June, 1850, a gentleman whom I saw at the Club was going to settle in South Africa. He intended to breed horses, and had selected a large tract of land at Georgetown, on the Nysena river, for that purpose. With him I made an engagement, sailing on the good ship _Devonshire_, on the 15th July, and as I was fortunate in India to arrive on the breaking out of hostilities, so the reader will find I was equally fortunate on reaching the Cape, though a civilian, to find men were wanted to stem the insurrection and rebellious spirit of the Kaffirs, which is portrayed in the next chapter.