The Cannons of Lucknow (12 page)

The women's courage, their resilience and resourcefulness, was something he could never forget. At first many of them had been afraid, but the example of a few, their cheerfulness in the face of danger and deprivation, which had grown as each day passed, had wrought a miracle. The initially fainthearted had lost their fear, the fastidious had learned to live with heat and filth and flies, the gently born to undertake menial tasks, dress hideous wounds and yet retain their dignity. … His own beloved Emmy had been of that brave company but, even so, he could not write of them now. Neill wanted facts, Havelock dates and names. … Alex wiped the sweat from his brow and, the pen held awkwardly in the damp palm of his left hand, went on writing.

A sortie was made, under the command of Captain John Moore of H.M.'s 32nd, consisting of eight officers and six other ranks of this regiment and H.M.'s 84th, to clear the uncompleted barrack blocks to the north-west of the entrenchment of rebel snipers, who had the drinking well under musket fire. This mission was successfully accomplished, with the aid of covering fire from Number Four Barrack, commanded by Lieutenant Mowbray Thomson, of the 53rd Native Infantry. Casualties were one officer, Lieutenant Wren of the 2nd Light Cavalry, and a private of H.M.'s 84th slightly wounded.

Those sorties had kept morale high; the Pandies had never stayed to contest the buildings they had occupied, however small the number of British soldiers who had left the entrenchment to attack and drive them out. John Moore had inspired, as well as led them; it had been his constantly reiterated wish, when the garrison's resistance was nearing its end, to lead the few able-bodied men in one final attack on the rebel gun batteries which had held the entrenchment within a ring of steel. But the women and children and the wounded could not be left; Moore's wish had not been fulfilled—instead, he had met his death at the Suttee Chowra Ghat, cut down, with the able-bodied men who had formed General Wheeler's guard of honour, as they sought vainly to push the overcrowded boats to safety in deep water. He had had his hour of glory before that, though, when the hospital had been destroyed … The pen nib spluttered on the damp paper. Neill should have his facts, blast his eyes! He should have chapter and verse, so that at least he would know what it had been like to wait and pray for the help that never came … Under the date 13th June, Alex wrote:

A well-directed shot from one of the batteries opposing us struck the thatched roof of the hospital building and set it on fire. We subsequently learned from a prisoner that the missile was a carcass, prepared for this purpose by an invalid
subedar
of artillery, Riaz Ali, who received a reward of Rs. 90 from the Nana for his action. Forty-two of the wounded perished in the flames, rescue having, of necessity, to be delayed whilst an attack on our perimeter was beaten off. The breeze being strong, the flames swiftly spread. The enemy poured their grape upon the burning building and, as the women and children fled from it, a heavy fire of musketry from the cantonment trenches killed and wounded many of them. Rebel infantry advanced to within sixty yards of our perimeter during the confusion caused by the fire, with the intention of taking by storm one of the nine-pounder guns commanded by Lieutenant St. George Ashe, of the Oudh Artillery. Lieutenant Ashe opened on them with grape and they were repulsed, with heavy losses.

The surgeons' store of instruments and medicines was destroyed, with the exception of one small box of drugs, and as a result, from this date, no amputations could be performed and many died from gangrenous infections of their wounds. Two hundred women and children were deprived of shelter, only a few of whom could be accommodated in other remaining buildings—the Quarter Guard, to which they were first directed, had subsequently to be taken over as a hospital for sick and wounded. The majority of the women, with their children, had to seek what protection they could behind the breastwork and in the trench behind it, over which canvas screens were erected. These were shot down or set on fire by enemy shells but, although left entirely without protection from the sun by day and the damp cold by night, the courage of the women never faltered. They handed round ammunition, encouraged the men to the uttermost, and attended to the wounded with tender solicitude.

Alex smiled as he read through what he had written. This small tribute, at least, he could pay, even in a factual military report, since the women had, after the burning down of their hospital, virtually joined the ranks of the defenders.

He started a fresh page.

The following died in the fire or subsequent to their removal from the burning building with their wounds imperfectly healed: Brigadier Alexander Jack; his brother, a civilian, after suffering amputation of one leg; Lieutenant R.O. Quin, 2nd Light Cavalry; Major W.R. Prout, 53rd Native Infantry, and his wife; Lieutenant N.J. Manderson and Sgt. Major Gladwin of the 2nd Light Cavalry; Mr. A. Miller, Railway Engineer …

He stopped, scowling at what he had written. The names eluded him. Emmy, he remembered, had spoken of them, had told him, her voice choked with tears, how many had died that night, and how many others, after lingering for a few tortured hours, had finally succumbed to shock and pain. She had named them—they had been among the patients she had helped to tend in the makeshift hospital in the Quarter Guard building—sick and desperately wounded men, who had been dragged from the blazing thatch-roofed hospital with a haste that, perforce, had taken scant heed of the agony even the smallest movement caused them. Women and children, babes in arms, like his own poor, sickly little son, whole families had been wiped out by the murderous fire of the mutineer gunners as they had fled from the flames, and then, next day, the charred bodies of those who had been unable to escape from the building had been brought out, to add to the butcher's bill… . Alex crumpled the page and selected another. It was no use submitting an incomplete list, he decided; he would leave the dead simply as a number in his report and later, when perhaps he would have more time, he would endeavour to compile a full list. … and then add to it the name of his infant son.

He picked up his pen once more and wrote on:

At midnight on Sunday, 14th June, after Divine Service had been conducted in the new hospital and with small groups of defenders at their posts, it was decided to mount a sortie to surprise and spike the enemy's gun batteries to the north and north-east of our position. These guns had caused us much annoyance and it was felt by General Wheeler that a successful attack on them would raise morale, which had suffered as a result of the burning of the hospital.

Fifty officers and men of the garrison, under the command of Captain Moore, left the entrenchment. The advance party was led by Lieutenant Henry Delafosse, 53rd Native Infantry, and Lieutenant Godfrey Wheeler, 1st Native Infantry and A.D.C., the main body by Captain Moore and Lieutenant Saunders, of H.M.'s 84th, and I myself, assisted by Captain Francis Whiting, Bengal Engineers, commanded the rearguard.

The enemy were taken completely by surprise and two 18-pounder and two 24-pounder guns were put out of action and a considerable quantity of ammunition blown up. On the alarm being sounded, we began our withdrawal, having first deterred pursuit by attacking a party of sepoys in a nearby mess house. Our party returned safely to the entrenchment, with three of our number slightly wounded, including Lieutenant Wheeler, and Corporal Henegan, of H.M.'s 84th killed in a gallant single-handed attack with the bayonet, as he was covering the rearguard's withdrawal.

Alex consulted his watch. It was ten-thirty; he had been working for over two hours. There was still a good deal to be added but … he rose and flexed his cramped limbs, then gathered the sheets of paper he had used and stacked them in a neat pile on the bed. He would have to go into very careful detail concerning the terms agreed upon by General Wheeler and the Nana's representatives for the evacuation of the garrison, he reminded himself—for all their sakes but especially for that of John Moore, who had negotiated them with Azimullah. Moore had gone to such pains to ensure that there could be no betrayal; the Nana had sworn, on his most sacred oath, that no harm should come to any member of the British force. Boats had been promised, fully supplied with provisions and properly manned; they had been inspected the night before the evacuation and found satisfactory; the
ghat
had also been inspected and no sign of treachery seen … yet they had been betrayed. He suppressed a weary sigh and went back to the table, reaching for his pen.

First he must report the final attack on the entrenchment, launched on the 23rd June—the anniversary of Plassey—when the mutineers had thrown overwhelming numbers of infantry against them, supported by cavalry and guns. Between seven and eight thousand, they had estimated, and to oppose them fewer than fifty unwounded but starving British soldiers and civilians, a handful of the less severely disabled men, who had come stumbling from the dark confines of the overcrowded Quarter Guard Hospital into the pitiless sunlight, a few brave women, and eight worn-out 9-pounder guns. Alex frowned, remembering, and then settled down once more to write.

Our lookouts warned that large numbers of the enemy were massing for an attack, and a heavy cannonade was opened on our position from first light, which continued for two hours. The alarm was given and the breastwork manned, every available soldier and civilian, including a number who were wounded, answering the call to arms.

Whilst the cannonade was still in progress, a message was received from Lieutenant Mowbray Thomson to say that his outpost in Number Four Barrack was in danger of being overrun. A party of 25 officers and men, led by Captain Moore, went to his assistance and aided him in driving off his assailants, at a cost of three wounded, including Captain Moore, slightly. The rebels launched their attack soon afterwards, field guns, with a cavalry escort, advancing to within sixty yards of our perimeter. A large force of cavalry charged prematurely and was beaten off by our guns which, double-shotted, poured a hail of grape into their ranks. During this time a tumbril containing ammunition was set on fire by an enemy shell and Lieutenant Delafosse, commanding the two guns on the east side of the entrenchment, extinguished the flames, risking his life to do so.

Infantry skirmishers, under cover of bales of cotton, then came at us from all sides, followed by the main enemy force of at least four regiments, which advanced firing. The attack was led by the
Subedar
of the 1st Native Infantry, who displayed suicidal courage. It was pressed home with greater resolution than on any previous occasion and was eventually beaten off at midday, with heavy casualties on both sides, theirs being estimated at two hundred dead and probably at least this number wounded.

General Wheeler sustained a bullet wound in the leg when in the defensive post known as the Redan, commanded by Major Edward Vibart, 2nd Light Cavalry, which bore the brunt of the cavalry charge. We lost nineteen killed or mortally wounded, and one of Lieutenant Ashe's guns was blown up. This loss, in addition to damage to two other guns, lack of ammunition and food, and the number of men incapacitated by wounds and sickness, brought us to the realisation that we could offer no further effectual resistance.

After a truce called by the rebels to enable them to remove their dead, hostilities were resumed at long range by the enemy batteries next morning. The first of the monsoon rain fell during the night, causing our breastwork to disintegrate in places.

On the evening of 24th June, General Wheeler sent an appeal to Lucknow for aid, stating that we could no longer hold out without it.

The poor old general, Alex thought, lying helpless and well-nigh speechless from the pain of his shattered leg …The admission of defeat had been wrung from him and he had wept as he wrote it, Surgeon Boyes had told him. “Surely,” his despairing message had ended, “we are not to be left to die like rats in a trap, without any attempt being made to bring us succour?”

There had been no answer to that appeal, but General Wheeler had known, as they had all known by then, that Sir Henry Lawrence could send them no aid without grave risk to his defence of Lucknow. He had only one European regiment, the 32nd, two river crossings stood between Lucknow and Cawnpore, he possessed no boats, and already the mutineers, in their thousands, were preparing to besiege his Residency.

Only General James Neill could have sent succour to the Cawnpore garrison and he, too, had failed to send it… . Alex returned, grim-faced, to his report.

On the morning of the 24th, a Eurasian woman, Mrs. Jacobi—one of the Nana's captives—brought a letter, in the handwriting of Azimullah Khan, the Nana's
vakeel
, offering terms for our surrender. This was addressed to: ‘The Subjects of Her Most Gracious Majesty, Queen Victoria,' and it invited ‘All those who are in no way connected with the acts of Lord Dalhousie and are willing to lay down their arms' to surrender and receive safe passage to Allahabad. It was rejected by General Wheeler, on the grounds that we had not been defeated and therefore would not lay down our arms. The general insisted that the Nana must himself sign the letter before he would treat with him. A temporary cease-fire was proposed and agreed to and that evening Mrs. Jacobi returned with a letter signed by the Nana. Negotiations for our surrender commenced between Azimullah Khan and Jwala Pershad, on the Nana's behalf, and Captains Moore and Whiting on ours, with Mr. Roache, the Postmaster, on behalf of the civilians. This took place outside our entrenchment, in Number Four Barrack, and was conducted in the Hindustani language.

At no time, until these negotiations were concluded, were any of the Nana's representatives or the rebel troops permitted to enter the entrenchment, it being feared that the sight of our depleted defences and starving condition might cause harsher conditions to be imposed upon us. General Wheeler, although unable to be present, was kept fully informed. The conditions to which both he and the Nana finally agreed and each signed and sealed, were as follows: