In Times of Peril | Page 8

Nineteenth, may have a
wholesome effect, Dick; but we shall see before long."
It needed no great lapse of time to show that this lesson had been
ineffectual. From nearly every station throughout Bengal and the
northwest provinces came rumors of disaffection; at Agra, at Umballah,
and at other places incendiary fires broke out with alarming frequency,
letters were from time to time intercepted, calling upon the Sepoys to
revolt, while at Lucknow serious disturbances occurred, and the
Seventh Regiment were disarmed by Sir Henry Lawrence, the
Commissioner of Oude. So the month of April passed, and as it went
on the feeling of disquiet and danger grew deeper and more general. It
was like the anxious time preceding a thunderstorm, the cloud was
gathering, but how or when it would burst none could say. Many still
maintained stoutly that there was no danger whatever, and that the
whole thing would blow over; but men with wives and families were
generally inclined to take a more somber view of the case. Nor is this to
be wondered at. The British form an almost inappreciable portion of the
population of India; they are isolated in a throng of natives,
outnumbered by a thousand to one. A man might therefore well feel his
helplessness to render any assistance to those dear to him in the event
of a general uprising of the people. Soldiers without family ties take
things lightly, they are ready for danger and for death if needs be, but
they can always hope to get through somehow; but the man with a wife

and children in India, at the time when a general outbreak was
anticipated, would have the deepest cause for anxiety. Not, however,
that at this time any one at Sandynugghur looked for anything so
terrible. There was a spirit of insubordination abroad in the native
troops, no doubt, but no one doubted but that it would, with more or
less trouble, be put down. And so things went on as usual, and the
garden parties and the drives, and the friendly evening visiting
continued just as before. It was at one of these pleasant evening
gatherings that the first blow fell. Most of the officers of the station,
their wives, and the two or three civilians were collected at Major
Warrener's. The windows were all open. The girls were playing a duet
on the piano; five or six other ladies were in the drawing-room and
about the same number of gentlemen were standing or sitting by them,
some four or five were lounging in the veranda enjoying their cheroots;
native servants in their white dresses moved noiselessly about with iced
lemonade and wine, when a Sepoy came up the walk.
"What is it?" asked Major Warrener, who was one of the group in the
veranda.
"Dispatch for the colonel, Sahib."
The colonel, who was sitting next to the major, held out his hand for
the message, and was rising, when Major Warrener said:
"Don't move, colonel; boy, bring a candle."
The servant brought it: the colonel opened the envelope and glanced at
the dispatch. He uttered an exclamation which was half a groan, half a
cry.
"Good Heaven! what is the matter, colonel?"
"The native troops at Meerut have mutinied, have murdered their
officers and all the European men, women, and children they could find,
and are marching upon Delhi. Look after your regiment."
A low cry broke from the major. This was indeed awful news, and for a

moment the two men sat half-stunned at the calamity, while the sound
of music and merry talk came in through the open window like a
mockery on their ears.
"Let us take a turn in the compound," said the major, "where no one
can hear us."
For half an hour they walked up and down the garden. There could be
no doubt about the truth of the news, for it was an official telegram
from the adjutant at Meerut; and as to the extent of the misfortune, it
was terrible.
"There is not a single white regiment at Delhi," exclaimed the colonel;
"these fiends will have it all their own way, and at Delhi there are
scores of European families. Delhi once in their hands will be a center,
and the mutiny will spread like wildfire over India. What was the
general at Meerut about? what were the white troops up to? It is as
inexplicable as it is terrible. Is there anything to be done, major, do you
think?" But Major Warrener could think of nothing. The men at present
knew nothing of the news, but the tidings would reach them in two or
three days; for news in India spreads from village to village, and town
to town, with almost incredible speed, and Meerut was but a