Ten Years in India, in the 16th Queen's Lancers, and Three Years in South Africa, in the Cape Corps Levies

CHAPTER V. Battle. Sir Joseph Thackwell, who had only one arm, commanded the Light Division, consisting of the 16th Lancers, Body Guards, three troops Horse Artillery, Outram's Irregulars. The centre division was commanded by Colonel Vallient, comprised the 40th foot, two batteries Foot Artillery, two corps of Native Infantry, one company of Engineers. The Left Division consisting of 39th Foot, five Native Cavalry, two regiments Native Infantry, and one company of Sappers under Sir Harry Smith. Each division crossed the ravine within one mile of each other. They were in position between three villages—Maharajpoor in the centre, Juna on the right, and Chuna on the left. We marched until seven o'clock, when we halted. The enemy at once opened fire from their half-moon battery. Nothing could be more welcome; we hurrahed several times and shouted lustily, "There goes the Prize-Money," showing, without doubt, the general feeling of our army,—there was no such thing as failure. The trumpeter now sounded for us "To Horse, To Horse," and away we went at a swinging trot to the front, preceded by Quarter-Master General Churchill, as it is that officer's business to learn the position of an enemy, and the nature of the ground, we advanced in close column of troops. Our route lay through a cotton plantation, and on nearing the enemy we were received by a discharge from a six-gun battery. A six-pound shot took my horse in the heart, and we both rolled over. I was extricated by some Grenadiers of a Native regiment just passing, much bruised. I was not long without a horse, as peppering had been going on by the advanced picket, a horse, minus the rider, fully accoutred, which had belonged to the enemy, passed. I seized it, and soon came up with my troop. We formed in line, in front of us being a field of wheat standing in shocks; these we found occupied by the enemy's sharp-shooters, quite concealed. A shot from one of these picked off General Churchill; as he fell, Colonel Somerset, an aide, dismounted to assist him; he was nearly as unfortunate, as a shot from one of their batteries broke his leg, killing his horse on the spot—poor Churchill died as he was being taken to the rear. The battle now became more fierce. The centre division, led by the 40th, under Colonel Vallient, charged, and at the point of the bayonet took the Village of Maharajpoor. Just then, the enemy's cavalry were coming down like a dark cloud upon our guns, when the 16th, my regiment, and the Body Guards were ordered to charge; this we were quite prepared to do, as soldiers, at least so far as my experience teaches, do not like to be onviewers, or watchers. Charge we did, but to our astonishment, as soon as they saw our movement, retreat was their order, and we afterwards heard they never stopped until they reached Gwalior. At noon the battle was over, the enemy fled, leaving all their camp equipage, guns, and about six thousand dead on the field. Their force was estimated 24,000, while ours only numbered 10,000, in having left 4,000 to protect our camp and hospital. Our loss was 2,500 officers, rank and file. The Queen surrenders. The following day we pushed on, halting some fifteen miles from Gwalior. Here we camped for a time. The Rannie, or Queen, came down with a strong guard, four thousand cavalry, to pay her respects, and make terms of peace with Lord Ellenborough. He would not hear of any only an unconditional surrender. The day after the Rannie's visit we marched on the capital, reaching Gwalior about nine a.m. Of all the fortified places ever I had seen, this was the most formidable. A large rock in the centre of an extensive plain, the city built in the middle, and so surrounded by the rocky wall, as to leave only one ascent, and that a zigzag one. The walls all round were loop-holed and bristled with cannon. Our first thought was—We are done now. But, of course, engineering skill and brave hearts laugh at stone walls. All was got ready to storm, as if taken, it must be taken at a dash, and as is always the case, a flag of truce was despatched to warn of our intention of giving them one hour to choose between unconditional surrender or the consequence of a refusal. In half that time the Ranee and her army marched out, a battalion of our infantry entered, and hoisted the British flag on the walls. We remained in Gwalior until joined by General Grey on January 3rd. This division had marched from Cawnpore, and consisted of the 9th Lancers, 3rd Buffs, three regiments Native Infantry, 2 brigades of Artillery, and the 50th Foot, under command of Colonel Anderson. They had been engaged with other portions of the enemy at Punneah on the same day we were fighting at Maharajpoor. On the 4th, the day following, the entire army was paraded to do honour to the young king, who had been reinstated on his throne, the ceremony being performed before all the people, in front of the city—and on the following day we were reviewed by Lord Gough, in presence of His Majesty, Lord Ellenborough, and the king's ministers. In the Governor-General's address of thanks to the army, he promised us a medal in shape of a star for the capture of Gwalior, and the Ranee, though now deposed, gave one crow of rupees. This was given directly, and a squadron of the 9th and one of the 16th Lancers escorted it in bags, carried by fourteen camels, to the Commander-in-Chief's camp. In any part of India I have ever been, I have always seen plenty of game, but the territory of Gwalior can certainly boast of more than any other. The gardens were laid out beautiful. Fruit of every kind was abundant. The principal people here are half Portuguese. "Bob, don't go, Bob, don't go." The following incident occurred on one of my shooting excursions. Three of us went out looking for pea-fowl, as they make a beautiful dish. We reached a Mango grove, and sat under a tree. A stream of water ran a few yards away from us, beautiful in appearance to bathe in. Robert Prichard, a corporal in the regiment, one of us, took it into his head to bathe. I remonstrated with him, urging probably the presence of venomous snakes or serpents, very numerous in the Bengal Presidency. He would go, and go he did. My last words were: "Bob, don't you go." As he started, immediately there came the same words—"Bob, don't you go"—"Bob, don't you go," again came more rapidly. Bob did turn back rather afraid, still he persuaded himself he was no coward, away he went again, and again the same words came thick and fast, "Bob, don't you go," "Bob, don't you go." On looking up we discovered a number of brown birds, similar in appearance to thrushes, in the trees, and as we rose to leave the cry went on, "Bob, don't you go," "Bob, don't you go," but Bob did bathe, and was bitten by a venomous snake, and died that evening. I have previously stated that the Hindoos are very superstitious, and do not kill anything—not even the poisonous snake. This part of India is not much travelled over by Europeans, and all sorts of dangerous reptiles and wild beasts live on undisturbed to kill man. The 16th Lancers had by this time completed twenty-two years' service in India, and naturally enough, many looked forward for the order to bring them back to England. It was not to be yet, however, although we all thought that the 9th had come out to relieve us. On the third of February we broke up camp, and commenced and marched back to our several cantonments. On our way the time passed pleasantly enough. After camp-pitching for the day, if a village was within easy distance, I generally went thither, accompanied by some companion. Generally the villagers will shy away when they get a glimpse of a soldier, they are afraid of being plundered, but the most reasonable excuse is, I think, to be found in their religion being insulted, at least here, for almost everything is sacred. Their former rulers, the Rajahs, plundered unmercifully, and allowed their men to commit the vilest of crimes. Frightened game. So full is this country of game as we neared the river Chumble, where I had on my way up got such a severe wetting in crossing, as to fasten a severe cold on me for some days. One morning at sunrise, geese, duck, and other water-fowl rose off the water in such a large dense cloud as to darken the air, as if a thunder-storm were coming on. No one with us ever saw such a multitude. Like every other living thing, they are never disturbed, but live on and multiply. No matter what our position in life—either high or low—or whatever our tastes for a variety of food, no men feel the loss of satisfying this desire more than soldiers on a campaign, always confined to the same diet. I have heard old soldiers say they remembered they had such an abhorrence for hard biscuit, and such an appetite for fresh bread, impossible to get at the time, that if a year's pay could get one fresh loaf, they would give it. We felt now something of this feeling, and all ranks longed for a change of some sort, either in bread or meat. Here was a fine opportunity, and it was availed of to the full extent, as far as the animal food could do it. Three of our officers, Captain Meek, Lieutenant Patterson, and the Veterinary Surgeon, respectively nicknamed—Meek, The Hair Trunk; Patterson, Black Jack; and the veterinary, Hot-water Jack—were sitting together engaged in mending their jackets and pants, one occasionally rising to feed the fire over which was pinioned on the sticks a leg of a stag or of mutton, I could not say which, and no doubt, as they felt hungry, anticipating a nice feed, when all of a sudden we were startled by shouts and hurrahs and roars of laughter. A dog had stolen unawares, when they were engaged in their tailoring, and making one bounce, seized the roasting limb, and away with him. The three, with jackets pants and flannels flying from their arms, after the poor hungry brute, shouting with all their might—"Stop thief! stop thief!" It was relished after all, notwithstanding the extra handling and dog-bites it got. Through Agra and Delhi to Meerut. After passing the river and ascending the hill on the opposite bank, we came suddenly on a herd of antelopes. So astonished did they seem, on perceiving horsemen, they actually stood staring at us, until nearing them, they started at a bound, some dashing through the ranks of our squadron. One of our men gave chase to a splendid buck, as he ran towards a village, near which we knew was a pond. The stag took to it; the man followed, having jumped off his horse, and seized him by the horns. The stag was the strongest, and dashed the man away in the water; still he held on until an officer coming on the scene, stabbed him, and, amid roars of laughter, the corporal emerged, covered with green slime and chick-weed. That day we had venison for twelve, the officers taking the rest. Agra and Delhi was at last reached, then Meerut on the 4th March, having been five months on that campaign, and lost fifty men from the regiment. Here we passed the hot season, from the middle of March to the beginning of May, as what are called the hot winds blow from eight in the morning till between four and five in the evening, no one in that time can stir out of doors—not even the natives can stand the scorching heat. The torment, the mosquitoes, are busy humming all this time. I have seen men almost blinded with their swollen faces; however, there is one relief, every soldier can have a native to fan him, and keep them off. Another pest during this season is found in the numbers of jackalls who run in packs at night, and actually bold enough to get under the beds. CHAPTER V. Old companionship at Meerut—Arbuthnot and the 16th— Grand turn out —A bet won—40th leave for home—9th Lancers for Umballa—Natives with tattoo bring in fruit, vegetables—Description of the Mango—Sedanna—The Begum or Queen, a pensioner of the Company—Something of her life—Persuades the Rajah to fly—Feigning assassination caused him to stab himself—Proclaimed Queen by her Army—Marries a French adventurer—Visit to our Camp—Her palace—Rumours of an invasion of our territory by the Shieks near Ferozepoor—Lord Gough at Umballa—News from the Punjaub—The Rannie or Queen had dethroned Dulep Sing—Ordered to Punjaub—Sketch of the Sing dynasty—Three French officers revolutionize the Army and bring it under the French model—They possess the whole of the Punjaub Peshwa—An eye on Bengal—Advised to become allies—Treaty with Lord Auckland—The Queen makes away with the three eldest sons—Her paramour, Lal Sing—Confines the youngest in the harem—Lord Gough at Mudkee—Sir R. Sale killed—Ferusha—50th and 62nd Foot—Ignorance at Meerut of all their movements—March on the Sutledge—Sad evidences en route of late havoc. General Arbuthnot and the 16th. Old companionship of regiment is never forgotten in the service. We had beside us now in cantonment the Fortieth Foot, a corps that had served in times gone by with the 16th in the Peninsular wars and at Waterloo. They had now been four years in Afghanistan, were present at Kilat, Gilzie and Candahar. Having plenty of money on hand, after our late campaign, we often fraternized with them, and indeed were boon companions as far as we could in the pleasures and enjoyments of camp life at Meerut. Dinners and parties, at which I am sorry to add much intoxication prevailed, was an every-day occurrence. So much was revelling carried on that on General Arbuthnot coming to the station to assume command, and when at dinner with the Colonel, the state of the regiment was the subject of discussion. This was the question, "What would you do, Colonel, if your regiment was required to-morrow morning for immediate service; they are all drunk and wandering about anywhere." This matter was soon settled by a heavy wager—I suppose merely in name—by the Colonel, who stated the regiment would be out at daylight in the morning—it was then ten o'clock—and if any man was absent, or should fall off his horse, the bet was forfeited. The Adjutant, Lieutenant Dynon, gave orders at once to sound "boot and saddle," the regiment to turn out half-an-hour before daylight. The trumpeters did their duty, galloped all over the lines sounding the alarm; the men tumbled in from all directions. The hour named for the parade arrived—the regiment, complete, not a man absent, stood out on the plain awaiting the General and his staff. They, accompanied by a number of ladies, put in an appearance. The roll was called in front of them, and with the exception of ninety-seven men, invalids in hospital, every man of the corps was present. To test the regiment more thoroughly, twenty-four difficult movements were gone through at a gallop, then we advanced in review order, every horse covered with foam. The General, of course, could do nothing after losing his wager, and witnessing our splendid movements, but compliment us most highly. As we marched back to cantonments we were wildly cheered by native and European regiments, and as a reward we received from the Colonel a few more days' leave for enjoyment. Dinner parties and suppers commenced again, and continued well up to the time the Fortieth were ordered to Calcutta, to embark for England. 9th Lancers for Umballa. In July the rainy season commences. It falls in torrents three weeks at a time, forming deep nullas or ravines, which make it difficult, indeed dangerous, to get about, and this lasts till after the middle of August. In November, the Ninth Lancers came up from Cawnpore, and as we had not met them, or at least the two regiments had not been together since eighteen hundred and eighteen, what could be expected than that another fraternization as had taken place with the Fortieth would be repeated. This I need hardly say occurred, and continued till the 9th marched for Umballa. We now enter the months when fruit and vegetables get ripe, and many a visit we had from the natives to our camp, driving or rather leading their tattoos on poneys laden with luxurious fruit. The mango is here very plentiful, and it may be interesting to describe it, the most delicious fruit in the world. The tree is about the size of a large oak; the fruit, when ripe, is of a greenish yellow, with reddish cheeks, the skin, when removed, presents a sort of jelly; a small stone, the size of a peach stone, in the middle. We eat them out of a large pan, in which is first placed some cold water. We had also plentiful supplies of guava, custard fruit, plantain, bananna, and water-melon of the size of an English beer-barrel for three pice, or a penny. Queen marries a French adventurer. Some five miles from Meerut cantonments is a town called Sedanna, where the Begum or Queen resided, who was once the monarch of this district, subject only to the once powerful Mogul of Delhi, but at this time a pensioner of the East India Company. There is a curious story told of this extraordinary woman, and I will here give it. She was the favourite of a Rajah who reigned some years back. She was instrumental in raising a revolt, and then urged him to fly, which he did. She, of course, accompanied him, but carried in a palanquin. While in this conveyance she pretended to stab herself, and screamed wildly. When the Rajah heard it, thinking she had been assassinated—not a very uncommon thing in India—he plunged a poniard into his heart, and died on the spot. No sooner was the Rajah dead than she jumped on a horse, galloped back, surrounded by her guards, collected the army, harangued them, saying she would now lead them to victory. They cheered. She did lead them against a powerful enemy, and by her perseverance—a second Joan of Arc—conquered. She was established in the favour of her army, who confirmed her Queen. Subsequently she married a French adventurer, Sombra Dyce, and made him general. He, being a Roman Catholic, converted her, at least nominally, built a chapel, which I have been in, and in which she had a tomb erected to the memory of the old Rajah, her first husband. There is also another to that of Sombra Dyce, her second. She had two sons by her second marriage, who were always at law with the old East India Company, claiming some possessions of their mother; but I could never learn the result, as the appeals were frequent to the Home Government. She was now getting old, but frequently came to our cantonment, as she was friendly with our Colonel, and loved to see the 16th Lancers. She has even been to our theatre, and whenever, in passing, she saw any children, always threw them handfuls of silver coin. A number of her people had embraced Christianity, who were ministered to by a regular priest. Whenever we strolled out to her palace we were received very kindly, were allowed the use of her billiard tables, as all the furniture was of European make, and many a good picnic we enjoyed in the mango grove of the palace. On Sunday, the thirteenth November, 1845, as we were marching from church, news soon spread that war had again broken out, and the Meerut division were to make forced marches to join Lord Gough, who had pushed on from Umballa, as the Sikhs had crossed into our territory in large force near Ferozepoor. The Cawnpore and Delhi divisions were also to move up in haste. This was astounding news to men so long in India as most of the 16th had been, but nevertheless all felt glad—in fact rejoiced—at the prospects of another good campaign, so eager were our men for it that the sick in hospital, such as were convalescent, would persuade the surgeon they were well enough, and begged to be let go with the regiment. Sketch of the Sing dynasty. Before starting, we had learned a civil war had broken out in the Punjaub. The Rannie had dethroned Dulep Sing, the rightful heir, the army was divided—one half for her, and the other against—and this state of things had been going on for several months; we then, the army of Her Majesty, as is always the case, had to set matters right. Before entering upon any further particulars, a short history of the Sing family will not be out of place. Runjeit Sing was the founder of the dynasty; he was a powerful chief, having conquered all the smaller chiefs around him, established himself as Maha Rajah at Lahore. In time, two French officers came along from Persia, soldiers of fortune, as such men are to be found everywhere, ready for anything as long as they get good pay. These men had served under the first Napoleon. One of them offered to raise a regiment to imitate the old French Imperial Guards, and the other made similar offers to raise one of cavalry. The offer was accepted. Both regiments were risen to the satisfaction of the Rajah; he made the first a General, the second a Colonel. To one, the General, he gave one of his daughters to wife. Subsequently, another Frenchman came into the county, named La Court, and his services were accepted, so that between the three old French soldiers the Rajah raised a powerful and well-equipped force; and having defeated a powerful neighbouring chief at Rungier, or the seven-hilled city, he became master of the whole Punjaub, or country of five rivers. After these successes he attacked the Afghans, drove them out of Pesheva, and took possession of the entrance of the Kyber, where he built the fort alluded to previously in this work, called Junrood. Runjeit Sing signifies, in their language, Fierce Lion. When he succeeded thus far in his conquests it became apparent he had an eye on Bengal, and thought he could drive the British back to the sea. His French generals, however, told him different, advising him not to interfere with them, or he might lose all. Craftiness, and perhaps fear, caused him to become an ally, as he made a treaty with Lord Auckland, signing it on the banks of the Sutledge river, bringing very valuable presents to be sent to our Queen. Four sons survived him, named Currick Sing, Nunihall Sing, Sheer Sing, and Dulep Sing. The first three were easily made away with by assassination, by the favourite Queen, who had the youngest, Dulep, placed in the harem, where old Runjeit had five hundred wives and concubines. Having accomplished all this, she united the contending parties under her paramour, Lal Sing, meditating an attack upon the East India Company territories. They assembled at the fort of Umritsa seventy thousand strong, crossed the Sutledge before our Government were aware of their doings. Lord Gough at Mudkee. Sad evidences of late havoc. Their first action was with Lord Gough, at Mudkee, 19th December, 1845, where he was encamped. The men, when surprised, were preparing their morning meal; they soon, however, got in fighting trim, some in their shirt-sleeves. The 3rd Light Dragoons, assisted by the fiftieth foot and others, gained a complete victory over them. It was here General Sir R. Sale got killed. Lord Gough pushed on that night, 21st December, and came on the main body encamped at Ferusha, fought them all that day, 22nd, and but for a ruse would have been surely defeated. Ammunition falling short, a troop of Horse Artillery galloped off to Ferospoor for a supply. The enemy's cavalry, seeing them through a cloud of sand, imagined their retreat was being cut off, panic-stricken, they bolted, when the 3rd Light Dragoons and 4th Native Cavalry charged under a heavy fusilade from the infantry—50th and 62nd—completely routed them from their position. In this charge, Colonel Somerset, aide to Lord Gough, was killed. The Meerut division knew nothing of all this until we arrived at Muddkee on the 1st January, when the sights we met confirmed our suspicion. At first we came across dead camels, then, on approaching the village, several of our native regiment soldiers came out to greet us. A sad sight indeed—some bandaged almost from head to foot; arms and legs off. All left behind in the hurry to keep up with the enemy. On laying out our picket guard with the Quarter-Master General, as I was in the advanced guard, we came upon a heap of sand, out of which part of a man's hand projected; also, a little further on, part of a hand and wrist, with so much of the cuff of a coat as showed a 50th button. We, of course, performed the duty of burying all such, as the pursuing army had no time. Making a reconnaisance with my captain, we entered a kind of park-like enclosure, and here we found traces of the fearful work of Gough's engagement. Men, horses, and camels lay in heaps unburied, vultures in hundreds feasting on them; none had been touched, all lay as they fell. The Sikhs lay in heaps under their guns, the Light Dragoons as they fell from their horses, the tents of the blind half-hundred still standing, knapsacks around in all directions. The guns we secured, and fatigue parties performed the sickening duty of burying the dead. CHAPTER VI. Hureka Gaut—Sir Harry Smith ordered to intercept Rungour Sing—Joined by 77th foot—March—View of Buddural—Opened fire—16th to hold ground while infantry push on—Too weak to fight yet—Baggage cut off—Some of 31st foot made prisoners—Treatment of their sergeant by the enemy—Push into Loodianna—News of their retreat—Ordered to intercept—Arrival at fort—Harem—Finding two bags of rupees—Reinforced and advance—Order of troops—Battle of Aliwal commenced—Sir Harry's telescope cut in two—"Lancers, three cheers for our Queen"—Charge—A square of guards—Corporal Newsom—Bravery—Killed—Green flag in his hand—"Immortalized 16th"—Fearful loss—Join another squadron—Pursuit to river—Destruction—Wounded to village—March to join Lord Gough—Two hundred cannon belching together—Sobraon 10th February—Description of battle—British flag planted—The bridge blown up—Charge the entrenchments—Victory and end of Sikh War—Losses—Labour—Chiefs bring out the young Maharajah—Reception in Lord Hardinge's marquee—Terms—Crowning the young King—Proud Shieks—Retort on our Sepoys. Joined by the 77th Foot. After this melancholy duty was performed, we pushed on to the Sutledge river, to overtake Lord Gough, and on the 5th January reached Hureka Gaut, encamping on the right of his Lordship's division. We lay here till the 15th, when General Sir Harry Smith was ordered to intercept Rungour Sing, he having crossed the river higher up, and burnt Loodianna, one of our stations. On the third day's march Sir Harry sent back for reinforcements, and the 16th Lancers, with a troop of artillery, was sent to him. We made forced marches in order to overtake him, which we did at Jugram; here we were joined by the 77th, having been pushed up from Calcutta. On the evening of the 20th we received orders to leave all our tents and baggage; subsequently the order to take all was given, and we mounted at 3 o'clock next morning, stopping at eight to roll our cloaks. As we were doing so, some of the look-out descried the enemy's cavalry. We remounted, and, as usual, I was sent on the advance picket. Arrival at fort. A large body of cavalry-men were moving in front, parallel with us. Soon we made a sand-hill, and on going up it saw the Fort heavily mounted with cannon, thousands of bayonets glittering in the morning sun. This was Buddiwal, a village lying between us and it. We halted till the body of the regiment came up, when a battery opened on us . The 31st foot behind could scarcely travel up—the sand was so deep. Sir Harry rode to our colonel, telling him to keep ground with the artillery till all the infantry had passed on, as he did not intend to fight them that day, but would pass on to Loodianna. They were 20,000 strong, we only about 4,000. Here was evidently some error, or some order neglected, for the baggage was too far in rear instead of being well up behind the column. As soon as these flying columns of cavalry saw the unprotected state of the baggage, they who had been seen moving parallel with us, dashed like a thick cloud, cut off our camels with the tents, bedding, money-chests, capturing also the guard of the 31st regiment, a sergeant and twelve men. That night was one of debauch over the spoils. They cruelly treated their prisoners. The Sikh soldiers run a red-hot iron through the sergeant's body. This treatment they would all have received, but it came to the ears of their General who stopped it. We, pushing on, got to Loodianna, and found great havoc had been committed. The barracks and mess-house had been burned, after the 50th left to join the army. What few troops we found there were our native soldiers, and they were shut up in the fort. Here we remained till the 23rd, until some of our elephants with tents and baggage, who had escaped from the raid and gone a long way round, came up. On 23rd January, Sir Harry received intelligence; the enemy were in full retreat from the fort, and cavalry and horse artillery went off at a gallop to intercept them. Sir Harry was too late; when we got to the fort it was deserted—they had the start of us. Ordered to dismount and enter the fort, we found they had burnt the bedding, money-chests and tents, taking with them all of value, and it was quite apparent they hurried away, fearing we would come down on them from Loodianna. The town also bore the marks everywhere of a quick departure. On entering the palace, we found it undisturbed, profusely furnished with European furniture; and on going into one of the best rooms, my comrade and I heard some women scream. Rushing to where the sound proceeded from—an adjacent room—we saw some of our native cavalry ill-treating two women—Circassians—who had belonged to the Rajah's harem. They were forcing their jewellery off them. On seeing two white soldiers, they ran to us. By persuasion, and at times by threats, they showed us where some money was hid. Taking us into the Seraglio, they pointed out a black stone near a fire stove. The floor of this apartment was made of marble, chequered black and white. On lifting the stone pointed out, we discovered two bags containing rupees. Counting them in camp, one had three hundred, the other four hundred and fifty. The girls were beautiful Circassian slaves, and could not have cost less than one thousand rupees each. They were much obliged to us, saying, "Company Dewoy, thank you, thank you." We had great fun that night in camp, appropriating anything found of use. We killed cows and sheep, made cakes, had plenty of milk, and, besides, the two young Circassians attended on us. Battle of Aliwal. Reinforcements of infantry constantly arriving from Lord Gough, on the 26th we numbered 10,000 fighting men, and on the 28th we were to march to meet the enemy, who had re-crossed the Sutledge, and added to their number 4,000 men, making them 24,000 in all. We marched in solid square; cavalry in front, then infantry, artillery in centre, and cavalry in rear. The enemy were in sight, as reported by our advance picket, at eight o'clock. As we got near, they moved out of camp, and deployed into line. The 16th Lancers, with the 5th native cavalry and two troops of horse artillery, were ordered to the left. Two regiments of native cavalry, with horse artillery and 31st and 50th foot in centre, all flanked by four regiments of native infantry. The enemy commenced the action at half-past eight, opening a heavy cannonade from the village of Aliwal, their centre—their line reaching three miles from right to left. Very soon the 31st and 50th stormed the village. Colonel Cureton, of the 16th, Brigadier of Cavalry, turned the enemy's left by a rapid movement of cavalry and artillery. On the right a large body of choice Sikh troops were coming down through a wood to outflank us. On this being apparent, our left wing—the 16th Lancers and the 5th Native Cavalry—charged, putting them to the route. I was acting as orderly to Sir Harry, and just where we stood a shell from the enemy, as it flew above us, burst overhead, a piece falling and cutting his telescope in two, as he took it from his eye. This seemingly vexed Sir Harry, for he immediately despatched me to Major Smyth, commanding the right wing, with orders to take that battery. As I delivered the order I fell in with my troop. In front was a battalion of the Rajah's Guards in square. Major Smyth shouted, "Boys, three cheers for the Queen."—"Lancers charge." Away we went as fast as horses could gallop, right through the square, and away to the battery of guns, sabering the gunners, and captured and spiked the guns. An incident is here worthy of recording. The square was just broken by a corporal named Newsome, leaping his horse right into it. As he jumped he shouted, "Here goes, boys; death or a commission!" Unfortunately for the country, and the service, to which he was an ornament, he was killed, and when found, after the square was broken, he had nineteen bayonet stabs on his body, with the green standard of Mahomet in the grasp of his hand. My lieutenant was wounded, and the Cornet killed here, the Sergeant-Major severely wounded. We were separated from the wing. I gave the word "about," and as we came back, it was as bad as going to the front. The enemy were scattered, firing in every direction. Our Major fell from his horse wounded. Him we brought to the rear, when we met the General, who shouted: "Well done 16th, you have immortalized yourselves to-day." Missing so many officers, he added: "Where are your officers—all wounded or dead?" "Immortalized 16th." On being informed, he desired me to take the remnant of the troop and join the squadron going over the hill there, pointing them out. I had 45 men out of 87. We joined the other squadron just in time; it was commanded by Major Beer, and was just about charging another square, enfiladed by artillery; having done so, a retreat of the whole enemy was the result. We followed in pursuit to the river; our guns cut their bridge of boats; the flying enemy took to the water—and such a sight!—men, horses, camels, artillery all swamping together. Our gunners, in addition, shelling them from the shores. This was the last of glorious Aliwal. We formed on the bank, cavalry and artillery. Sir Harry passed along our front as we gave a ringing cheer, his hat in hand. "Men," said he, "it is I should cheer you, for you did the work. Your Queen and country shall know of it." Then another ringer. And now for the melancholy part of the work. Wounded to the village. We had not tasted meat or drink since six o'clock in the morning; it was now evening. We had five miles to go over to collect the wounded, and bury the dead. The carnage was fearful; horses, dead and mutilated most fearfully, as they plunge very much when wounded. Several were trying to get about on three legs; we killed these outright. Where the fighting was close, as in square, men's bodies were thickest; wounded in all conceivable ways; jaws shot away; often heads; some disemboweled. But enough—it is not pleasant to remember, particularly some who were near comrades; we lost in all seventy-six officers and men killed, seventy-seven wounded, and one hundred and sixty horses. Five thousand of the enemy had been killed, besides a number drowned in the river on the retreat. We captured fifty pieces of artillery and all their camp. It was laughable to see a man of the 31st lugging to his camp an elephant, by a piece of rope tied to his trunk, and another with three camels tied together. In the evening I was ordered to take some wounded to the hospital at the village, two miles back. On getting there, the wounded were laid out on straw down the centre street, the surgeons busy in their shirt sleeves amputating arms and legs by the light of torches. Riding back in the dark we could plainly hear the groans of the wounded and dying Sikhs; we could not help them, and even if we attempted, they have been known, even when almost dead, stretching out their hand and stabbing a Sepoy or one of our own, who may have been near them. However, all of ours were collected; when we got back the army was preparing to bivouac for the night on the field. The following day was spent in preparing lists of wounded and killed, and seeing the former as comfortable as possible under cover of tents. On the 30th the wounded and the guns captured were sent to Loodianna. During the charge of the 16th Lancers through the squares of the Imperial Guards, a sergeant of my troop received a musket shot in the left side, and his horse also was shot dead. Then he was attacked by four Sikhs; he defended himself bravely with his sword, having cut down three. The fourth was about to finish him when a little Ghoorka at a distance levelled his rifle and shot the foe, thus saving the sergeant. Yet he died a few days after. These Ghoorkas are small hill-tribe men. Under the Company there are three battalions, officered by British officers, and good soldiers they are, loyal and brave. They carry three formidable knives in the shape of a sickle, and they have been known to kill a bear or tiger single-handed. They are recruited from the tribes in the Himalaya Mountains beyond Simla and Nina Tal. The officers and merchants, who reside on the hills during the hot season, keep a number of these small hill men as servants to carry the jompam, or fetch wood and water, each family dressing them in Highland costume. They are very honest and industrious. Numbers of them come in from the valleys with walnuts and other fruits for sale. March to join Lord Gough. The scenery at the stations on the hills north of Bengal is grand. Simla and Missuri, 14,000 feet above the sea level. The air is pure and bracing, far above the mountains tower to 27,000 feet. When the sun is setting in the west the view is splendid, as you see the glaciers reflecting a thousand different colours. Then to look down into the valleys below, far below, the roads are cut around the sides of the hills, and you journey up from hill to hill, like going round so many sugar loaves. Rose trees grow here to the size of oaks. The birds are of gorgeous plumage, such as the Argus pheasant, the Mango bird. The bantam fowl are numerous in the woods. Strawberries and nectarines are in abundance, growing on the sides of the hills. The natives bring in numbers of leopard and bear skins, also bears' grease. Butterflies are beautiful also; beetles of a large size, such as the elephant and stag beetle. I have made up cases of each that went at 16 rupees or 32 shillings. The mule is the only carrying animal who can travel round these roads with any safety. The ladies are conveyed in jampanns, by four natives, a sort of palanquin, which swings on a pole. All being arranged, the following day we marched to join Lord Gough, who with the main body are at Hureka Gaut. As we marched along the villagers generally welcomed us with salaams. Battle of Sobraon. Lord Ellenborough had been succeeded as Governor-General by Lord Hardinge. He, with General Gough, come out to meet Sir Harry and his division. We halted, and both rode along our front, giving us great praise for our victory at Aliwal on the 28th. We marched into camp, and occupied a position on the right of the Army. Here we waited five days, worried with picket and guard duty, waiting for the siege guns being brought from Delhi by elephants. The enemy, we learned, were in a strong position, well fortified, a sort of half-moon, each horn resting on the Sutledge, with a bridge of boats in their rear, either to bring up supplies with, or to retreat by—under the command of Lall Sing, the Queen's favourite general. On the morning of the tenth of February we formed, an hour before daybreak, not a sound of trumpet or drum being heard. All was done silently. At daybreak our mortars opened the ball by sending shell into the enemy's position. At six we were answered, and over two hundred pieces of ordnance roared away on both sides. A thirty-two pound ball, spent, struck one of our elephants, and as it was the first we saw wounded, we could not help laughing—indeed, the entire army burst into laughter—though to laugh in such a scene seems almost incredible. He had been hit on the rump, and to see him cantering and galloping over that field, upsetting everything almost he came across was indeed a sight. On the same field a fox started between the two armies, and as the soldier's dog always follows him, one followed the fox, but from the confusion at the time I lost sight of them, though the fox stood some time confined, not knowing what way to get clear. At nine the infantry began their work by firing all along the line—the 31st ordered to charge at a break made by our guns. They did, and were repulsed by a heavy discharge of grape and canister. The 10th were then ordered to advance and take part, and in a short time both regiments, vieing with each other, made an entrance at the point of the bayonet, one of the 31st mounted on the breastwork with the British flag. It was completely perforated with shot, yet the man was charmed, for he was not touched. He afterwards got a commission. The 16th Lancers with a battery of Artillery, were ordered up to command the bridge. The battery put in red-hot shot and destroyed the bridge. The centre boat forming the bridge was filled with combustibles. It was their intention, had they to retreat, to draw us away after them, and then blow us up. Now commenced hot work. We and the Infantry got into their intrenched position. All fought like tigers, the Sikhs disputed every inch of ground down to the river bank, and into it while they could stand. They fought till about two o'clock, when the battle was ours. The river was all bloody and choked with bodies now added to those that had by this time floated down from Aliwal; and, strange, the water had risen two feet through the jamming caused by this obstruction. Thus ended the battle of Sobraon, and with it the Sikh war of 1845-46. Our loss was one hundred and fifty officers and eight hundred rank and file. General Dick was killed. The enemy left 16,000 dead and wounded on the field.

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