A DARK CHAPTER OF HISTORY.-No. II.

Tuapeka Times, Volume XVIII, Issue 1174, 26 August 1885, Page 4

A DARK CHAPTER OF HISTORY.No. 11.

CAWNPORE.

With whatever degree of loathing we may be inclined to regard the memory of Nana Sahib, we must remember that he had been treated not only with injustice but even with insult. This, it is true, cannot be offered in extenuation of his crimes, but it proves that morally, at least, the Company cannot be acquitted of all blame in the terrible outrages which his fiendish nature suggested. On his arrival at Cawnpore, he was surrounded by the mutineers, who hailed him as their chief, and, with savage significance, clamored to be led against the English. With this request, it may be surmised, he only too readily complied. He was thenceforth looked upon as the recognised leader of the Cawnpore revolt. Meanwhile General Wheeler had taken refuge in what had been at one time a military hospital — a number of ruined buildings, whose only defence consisted of a low, crumbling mud wall about four feet in height. In there the little English colony, numbering about one thousand persons, were hastily gathered. Of this number, 280 were married ladies and their grownup daughters, about the same number of children, and of the men probably 400 were capable of taking a share in the defence of the place. Here, at the very outset of his troubles, Sir Hugh Wheeler exhibited a most regrettable lack of coolness and strategical knowledge that placed him at the mercy of the rebels. In another quarter of Cawnpore stood the magazine — a massive and commodious building, which, with comparatively little trouble, might have been rendered almost impregnable. Into this place, had he chosen, he could have retreated and defied the fury of the mutineers. From Nana Sahib he now received a message, intimating that unless the position were at once surrendered an attack would be immediately made. Than this nothing could be more chivalrous or more in keeping with the rules of honorable warfare. Indeed, such conduct seems strangely inconsistent with the subterfuge and dissimulation which he afterwards employed in preparing his plans for the destruction of his victims. On the 12th June, 1857, a murderous fire was opened on the little garrison. Repeated assaults were made on the miserable mud walls, which were repelled in a manner that struck terror into the most ferocious ~of the rebelsr Cawnpore" new swarmed with the jail-birds and cutthroats of the surrounding country. These ruffians occupied themselves by turns in the comparatively safe pastime of shelling the English people behind their frail defences. When, . however,' they ventured on a general assault, they were aenfc flying back in the moat precipitate and cowardly manner. /The little garrison might be starved intojsurrender or extirpated by disease ; but it became only too evident every day that while their strength remained their intrepidity and heroism were more than a match for the numbers and ferocity of their adversaries. Indeed, hunger and disease had already told on their numbers, but their courage and obstinacy remained unimpaired. The sufferings endured by the patient and uncomplaining English women can never be adequately known. Exposed to the fierce heat of an Indian sun they crouched under the poor shadow of the miserable mud walls, weak and emaciated from Bickness and exposure. The supply of water was to be had only from a small well about half -a- mile from the defences. To carry water from thia well waa the work of a number of brave and selfsacrificing men. In this heroic duty they exposed themselves to an incessant and fatal fire from the Sepoy guns. A large force of Oudh rebels now came thronging into Cawnpore. These were looked upon as the fiercest and best fighting men

among the mutineers. To them was entrusted the task of storming the English defences. The attempt was made, but, like all previous attempts, resulted in failure and disaster to the attacking party. The conviction gradually began to dawn on the rebels that so long as a single man of those terrible English Sahibs wa3 left it wa3 vain to attempt to cross those low walls. As well might they try to enter the lairs of so many timers, so fiercely were they met and repelled. Emboldened by succeßS and confident of their superior courage and discipline, the little garrison even went the length of making sallies in small numbers and frequently putting to flight large bodies of natives. The danger of protracting the siege soon became apparent to the rebels. The English rule in India had survived the first shock of the mutiny, a re-action was now taking place all over the disturbed provinces, and no one could tell the day when a conquering British force might appear to exact a terrible retribution from Cawnpore. Hunger and disease and Sepoy bullets had failed to conquer the little garrison. It was now determined to try what treachery and artifice could do. By the advice of Azamoolah Khan, the favorite of English drawing-rooms, negotiations were opened with the English. "Those," said the rebel leaders, "who are in no way connected with the acts of Lord Dalhousie, and who are willing to lay down their arms, shall receive a free passage to Allahabad." These terms were accepted. Those men who would have died like Spartans at their posts were melted irito compliance by the appalling sight of the women and children and wounded, who, we may be sure, longed for release on any terms from their terrible situation. Boats and provisions were placed at their disposal to carry them to Allahabad. The evacuation of the garrison took place at once. The boats, manned by native rowers, were in waiting on the Ganges. The sad procession of men, women, and children crept mournfully down to the river. The wounded were numerous, and included many women and children, who were now succoured by the same men who had fought so long and so bravely for ; them. In a small temple on the river bank, superintending the embarkation, were gathered the Nana's advisers, prominent among whom was the polished and seductive Azamoolah Khan. The wounded and the women were first placed in the boats and were followed by the officers and men. Suddenly the blast of a trumpet was heard. The boats were those of a kind common enough on the Ganges, covered with roofs of straw. Scarcely had the last sound of the trumpet died away than the roofs were in a blaze. The native rowers,actingonthe trumpet-signal, had set fire to the thatch, and, jumping into the water, struck out rapidly for the shore. What the feelings and the agonies •of the wounded and the poor distracted women were in this terrible moment we can only imagine. At the same instant, from both sides of the river, showers of gripe, shot, and musketry were rained on the, doomed boats ; and, as if to increase the horror of the scene and favor the suooesi of the foul massacre, the boats

stuck fast on the mud-banks and were literally riddled by the inhuman wretches on the shore. Three of the boats drifted to the opposite shore, and their occupants were butchered without ceremony. The third was captured ; the men were shot off-hand, and the women and children made prisoners. At a signal the firing ceased, and those of the women yet alive were marched back to that dreaded city, where they had already endured so much, and which they hoped they had Been for the last time. The appear* ance and the sufferings of these poor women impressed many natives who were not altogether dead to pity. They are described by them as bedraggled and dishevelled, their clothes in tatters, many of them wounded, with the blood flowing from their feet and legs. Thrown into a close and filthy prison, cholera and dysentery set in among the helpless sufferers, from which 18 to 20 women and nearly as many children were carried off. Meanwhile the English, by a splendid display of generalship, and a heroism unequalled in modern times, were everywhere sweeping the rebels from their victorious path. General Neill had re-captured Allahabad, and Havelock, flushed with victory, was marching on Cawnpore with six guns and one thousand men. Encountering 4000 of the Nana's troops and 12 guns, who i were deepatched to dispute his passage, he defeated them in ten minutes, and continued his victorious march to the I gates of Cawnpore. It was nowannounced to the prisoners that they were to die. Four men who were among them were called out and shot. In the afternoon of that fearful day five men were seen to I enter the prison - house, each armed with a sword. In a short time loud and heart-rending shrieks were heard on the still evening air. One of the murderers, a Mahometan soldier, was noticed to come out with a broken sword in his hand, which he exchanged for a stronger weapon. Two or three times this horribly significant proceeding was repeated. The sword-blades clearly were not equal to' the, terrible work in which they were being used. In the morning, these five men with several assistants came to clear the slaughterhouse. The -bodies, 125 in number, were taken and thrown into a deep well close by. It was noticed by|some loiterers who hung around the door, watching the ghastly proceeding, that a few of the women still showed signs of life, and .certainly many of _thejehildren._ _ J[ndegd,_ one of the children actually attempted to escape from its captors, but was quickly seiaed and consigned to the depths of that dreaded .well. On the re-capture of Cawnpore, a memorial chapel, surrVnnded by a garden, was built on the spot as a fitting memento' of one of me most hideous massacres on record. When the prison-house itself was entered, says the historian, its floors and its walls told with terrible plainness of the scene they had witnessed. The plaster of the walls was scarred and seamed with sword-slashes low down, and in the corners as if the poor women had crouched down in their mortal fright with some wild hope of escaping the blows. The floor was strewn with scraps of dresses, women's faded, ragged finery, frilling, underclothing, broken combs, tresses of hair, etc. There were some small and neatly severed' curls of hair, too, which had fallen on the ground, but evidently had never been cut off by the rude weapon of a professional butcher. These doubtless were keepsakes that had been treasured to the last, parted with only when life and death were going. And of Nana Sahib, whose mysterious disappearance is the closing scene in the dark and terrible drama, he says: "He had done the work of a fiend, and he disappeared as a fiend would do when his task was accomplished."