A Narrative of the Siege of Delhi | Page 4

my
young days. I recall the numberless acts of devotion and courage, the
tender solicitude with which the veterans of the Grenadier Company
looked after the safety of their youthful commander, during the
campaigns of 1857; and my pen falters and my eyes grow dim with
tears as memory brings before me my gallant comrades in the ranks
who fell before Delhi, or lost their lives through disease and exposure.
I had been absent from my regiment during the whole of 1856, doing
duty at the Murree Convalescent Depot, and rejoined in March of the
following year. Nothing occurred for the next two months to break the
monotony of life in an Indian cantonment. Parade in the early morning,
rackets and billiards during the day, a drive or ride along the Mall in
the cool of the evening, and the usual mess dinner--these constituted

the routine of our uneventful existence.
Many of the officers lamented the hard fate which had doomed them to
service in the East, while the more fortunate regiments had been
earning fame and quick promotion in the Crimea and in the recent
Persian campaign. We little thought of what was in store for us, or of
the volcano which was smouldering under our feet.
The signs of incipient mutiny in the native army had been confined, up
to this time, to the Presidency of Bengal and to the regiments quartered
there. With us at Ferozepore there was little, if any, indication of the
coming outbreak. True it was that some of us noticed sullen looks and
strange demeanour among the sepoys of the two battalions. They, on
occasions, passed our officers without the customary salute, and, if my
memory serves, a complaint of this want of respect was forwarded to
their Colonels. Our billiard-marker, too, a high-caste Brahmin who had
served on our side in the Afghan campaigns of 1839-42 in the capacity
of a spy, a man of cunning and intelligence, warned us in unmistakable
terms of the increasing disaffection among the sepoys of Ferozepore,
and stated his opinion that the spirit of mutiny was rife among them.
We laughed at his fears, and dismissed from our minds all alarm,
vaunting our superiority in arms to the dusky soldiery of Hindostan,
and in our hearts foolishly regarding them with lordly contempt.
Thus passed in the usual quiet the first twelve days of the month of
May, 1857. The morning of May 13 saw us, as usual, on parade; then,
adjourning to the mess-house, we spent a few hours over breakfast and
billiards, and before midday separated to pass the heat of the day
reading, lounging, and sleeping at our respective bungalows.
I occupied a large house some distance from the mess in company with
a field-officer and the Adjutant of my regiment. The former, about 1 p.
m., was summoned by an orderly to attend a meeting at the quarters of
the Brigadier[1] commanding the troops at Ferozepore. We paid no
heed to this incident, as it occurred to us that the Major's advice and
opinion were required on some matter of regimental or other routine.
Vicars and I were in the habit, since the hot weather began, of making

ices every afternoon, and had become, from long practice, quite
proficient at the work. At three o'clock we were in the midst of our
occupation, our whole thoughts and energies bent on the
accomplishment of our task. Clad in loose déshabillé, seated on the
floor of the sitting-room, we worked and watched the process of
congelation.
Presently a quick step was heard in the hall, the door was thrown open,
and the Major, rushing in, sank breathless into a chair. The Adjutant
and I jumped up, and in our haste upset the utensils, spilling on the
floor the contents we had taken so much trouble to prepare. A minute
or two passed, and still no word from our friend, who, portly in shape,
and of a plethoric temperament, seemed overcome by some terrible
excitement, and fairly gasped for breath.
"What on earth is the matter?" we asked.
Slowly, and as though uttered with considerable difficulty, the answer
came:
"All the Europeans in India have been murdered!"
Now this was rather a startling announcement, and somewhat
premature, considering that we three, at any rate, were in the land of the
living, with no immediate prospect of coming dissolution. We looked at
each other, at first serious and alarmed, as became the gravity of the
situation, and utterly unable to comprehend what it all meant. This
phase of the affair, however, did not last long, and soon changed from
grave to gay. A merry twinkle appeared in Vicars' eyes, to which my
own responded, and at last, fully alive to the absurdity of the gallant
officer's remark, our pent-up