A Strange Sight

The 84th Regiment was the first in Cawnpore on the 17th. They scoured the town looking for rebels, but they found no one, armed or otherwise. At a junction in the road, however, they were met by a figure, bedraggled, dirty and emaciated, his arms in the air, hastening towards them. He was still in chains and, for all intents and purposes, looked like a madman until he shouted, with all his might,
“Hurrah! Hurrah!Hurrah!”

As this strange figure approached an officer ordered two men forward with orders to shoot him, thinking he was an escaped prisoner from the gaol. They cocked their rifles and placed them on their shoulders and took aim. The man, fetters in hand, continued towards them. He took off the rag on his head, and waving it around, once again shouted. It was not an Indian shout but an English one. When he was within 20 yards of them, the man said, “Thanks to God – I am saved, I am saved!” Thinking now he was a poor fugitive, the men crowded around him. The officer rode up and asked him who he was.
It was Jonah Shepherd – the man who had convinced Wheeler to let him leave the entrenchment days before the surrender, with the noble thought of bringing succour to the beleaguered garrison. He had been captured and thrown into jail, sentenced to hard labour and had Havelock not arrived, Jonah Shepherd would most likely have been killed. His disguise, which baffled the judge who sentenced him, did not fool his fellow inmates – they made him out for what he was, an enemy from Wheeler’s Entrenchment.
The officer hurriedly tried to remove Shepherd’s fetters with his bayonet but besides rattling them around the man’s legs, he could not open them. So Shepherd was obliged to follow the detachment, still chained, in his peculiar dress, staying close to the horse of the officer who had tried to free him. As he walked, he told him as much as he could about Cawnpore, the siege and an impromptu guide – for all their noble intentions, the detachment had never been to Cawnpore and did not have the foggiest notion of where they were going. As they moved on, Shepherd pointed out the entrenchment and the officer galloped off the see the place. When he returned they continued on to General Ganj where they found many of the citizens of Cawnpore gathered in small groups, terrified by the advance of the British and not knowing how they would be greeted. The officers, believing them to be rebels, ordered the men to fire – Shepherd leapt to their defence – they were harmless civilians he said and the men were told to stand down. As they rode on the same scene repeated itself but surely, said the officer, these must be rebels! Again Shepherd intervened by drawing attention to his fettered legs, saying if he was intent on deceiving his deliverers, they were welcome to shoot him first as he could not run.
The rebels had done all they could to convince the population of Cawnpore, should the British overrun the city, they would all be put to the sword – it was one way of ensuring there would be neither provisions nor assistance forthcoming to the advancing army; the intention had been to terrify the civilians enough to flee, leaving Havelock with an empty town to care for.
Presently, a few of the bolder civilians approached the British with information. They confirmed Shepherd’s statement and further said stated a number of sepoys had slept the night in the Mughal Serai – a detachment of 25 men was sent off forthwith to ferret them out, should they have imprudently decided to remain behind. When the men returned they reported the rebels were gone and the serai was empty.
The strange parade continued along the canal – the civilians slowly came forward, some bearing sweetmeats in their hands which they offered up to the hungry soldiers. Others, merchants and vendors, quickly told the officer they could procure more food – an impromptu bazaar opened, the citizens running forward with fruit, vegetables, chapatis, sweetmeats and even milk in jars, each vying with their neighbour in providing for the men, accepting no payment for their wares. The officers, discomfited by this unexpected display of hospitality grappled with their purses, trying to pay the people for their labours- in place of bloodthirsty fiends, they were surrounded by poor civilians, each more eager and desperate than the next to accommodate them. It was not what they had expected to find in Cawnpore. One even brought out a box of cigars which he freely distributed to the men.
The rabble, the badmashes, the scourge of the city who had burned the station, murdered Europeans and natives alike, had wisely withdrawn from the city in the wake of the Nana – the people left in Cawnpore were the terrified civilians, not knowing if the army that had now come in the Nana’s place were going to murder them. They were going to do everything to ensure they did not end up on the end of a gibbet for the sins of others.
The detachment continued on their way, passing the Bibighar – Jonah could not bring himself to go inside. When the officer returned, shaken and white to tell him that there were no dead bodies lying about the place, he still could not move from his place at the gate. It was the greatest regret of his life – he had left his family to die in Wheeler’s Entrenchment and knew he would never know what fate had done to them. They moved away from the house, towards the magazine.
It suddenly occurred to Jonah that perhaps the rebels were still in Cawnpore – the magazine was untouched and they might be holding out. Accordingly, he volunteered to scout it out but first he wanted to find a blacksmith to knock the fetters off his legs. The detachment halted on the old parade ground opposite the burned-out church and Jonah proceeded back to the city, now in the company of a few Indian friends who had sought out the British. With their help, he quickly found a blacksmith – and as he held the fetters in his hands, he was suddenly thrown off his feet.
The rebels left one last calling card before abandoning Cawnpore – early on the morning of the 17th a column of smoke was seen suddenly and rapidly rolling up into the sky, like a vast black balloon, followed by a tremendous explosion which gave John Sherer a “pluck at the knees that made me involuntarily sit tighter, “ – it was the sound of the Cawnpore Magazine, being blown to smithereens. The rebels had left a slow match burning which in their estimation, should have destroyed anyone foolhardy enough to be passing the building when it finally ran out, be it European or Indian. As it was, the Europeans had not ventured quite so far that morning.
Seeing there was no reason now to proceed to the Magazine, the detachment was ordered to move to the old Quartermaster’s bungalow in the old Native Infantry Lines. The building had a tiled roof, and although plundered, was still intact and the roof was not burned out. Jonah Shepherd, at least for a moment, remained with B Company of the 84th Regiment, reflecting on his sad fate, he was, “alone quite alone. I could only look upwards to heaven, and wish I had also joined the dear souls that had gone before..:”