Misery

A little after sunrise, we came to a village, Banda Johwpoor, at which I halted the party till I should see the way through it. I found crowds of men, with big bamboos at every corner. They seemed to think us rebels…We encamped under some trees, opposite a pass or cliff, across a range of hills about 250 yards off. Some matchlock men were in the ravine and on the hills. We thought they were guards, and let them alone; and made the most we could of the bare ground and the mess stores, for rest and refreshment. The 1000 rupees came in from the Rajah and were distributed. Mr Came, the Collector of Mahoba, came too…About noon, a little wretch from the hill came in to say we must give him 1000 rupees, or he would not let us pass. I told him to walk his chalks and the men to get ready to enter the pass at four. To my horror, and that of all the Europeans, about two hours after, one of the native officers proposed that we should pay money to the little wretch we had seen before for an escort to Callingur (Kalingar). This was awful, but it was the wish of the men, and we felt they must have their own way, or they would leave us. Moreover, it might be that this little villain might have power to raise any number of villagers upon us. Mr. Carne, who knew the country and was a wise man, wished the money to be paid…It was manifest that we, with so many women and children, must have some escort, and our men seemed little fitted to afford one, so 700 rupees were paid down in advance. The men first paid 300, which shewed what they wanted. The wretches afterwards pretended it was the officers’ doing.

After posting guards, the officers went to sleep, and Scot, exhausted by the days of travel, lay on the ground, bereft of any coverings. At 2 in the morning, they were startled out of their slumber by a horrible noise. In the dark, no one could tell if it was their bribed friends attacking them or some other foe – the sepoys began firing off their muskets at random in panic, not realising, as Scot quickly ascertained, it was only a horse that had gotten loose but he saw the situation for what it was. The men, in their desperation not to become mutineers, were practically beyond control. His worst fears were confirmed in the morning.

At daybreak, Scot looked out for their “friend” and sent for him as the men and the camp prepared to move. Suddenly, and with a bang, a matchlock ball whistled over Scot’s head.
The men began to fire in the air, or at the hill, without any aim and without seeing anyone. I could not stop them, and neither could anyone else. The bullets began to come in, and Sepoys to walk off. A few remained close to camp, with Capt. Ewart, Lieutenant Townsend of Artillery, and myself. We stuck to the trees and fired from behind them.
Major Kirke now came to his senses and was no longer babbling inanely about mangos as he had been doing for the past day; he and Jackson and Franks did their best to bring up the men to attack, but they were having none of it and melted away, panic-stricken. Poor Barber never had strength to do anything from the moment we started. Ewart, poor Townsend, and I kept our ground with a few men, 10 or 12, who stood by us, and we fired away at the rascals.
Off they went, seventy of them from about thirty matchlocks (I know not how many men besides had spears and swords, etc. )… I stuck to the tree for a good while, till these abominable Sepoys had got a long way off. They slipped past the officers, who rode on ahead, again and again, and tried to make them halt, but off they posted, utterly regardless of the women and children they left behind.
While at the tree, poor Townsend suddenly said, ‘I am hit,” and fell on his face and writhed about, turning over and over twice or thrice. I lifted him up, when he got quiet, and saw that he was shot close to, or in the heart; his head was thrown back, and life was gone. I took his sword away and left the body, with a prayer that it might rise soon in the resurrection. He was a fine-hearted young fellow and very brave. He had charge of his battery for more than a year and had done the duty well, though, when he died, he had not finished his third year’s service. He was an honourable and very agreeable man. He was a member of the 12th mess from the day he came to Nowgong, and we all thought him a great acquisition and now are very sad over his early death.”