On 3 May 1858, the Roorkee Field Force left Moradabad. Despite the searing heat, Brigadier John Jones was determined that his men would march the last 50 miles to the gates of Bareilly. Communication with Sir Colin had been sketchy at best: Jones knew Campbell was on the march; his spies had told him as much. According to the last information he received, Campbell had left Shajahanpore. The entire venture was fraught with uncertainty, but Jones, an army veteran and hardly a stranger to impromptu plans, was determined to be before Bareilly as ordered. On the morning of 5 May, Jones was exactly on the opposite side of Bareilly, but he was still 21 miles away at Meraganj. He had with him:

6th Dragoon Guards (Carabiniers)
60th King’s Royal Rifles
1st Punjab Rifles
17th Punjab Infantry
Multani Horse
Detachments of 1st Punjab Cavalry, 1st Sikh Infantry,
No. 7 Field Battery 1/1 Bengal Artillery (Captain A.G. Austen)
4/4 Bengal Artillery and detachments of the 1/4 , 3/4 Bengal Artillery with
two 18-pounders
two 8-inch howitzers
two 8-inch mortars
two 5 1/2-inch mortars
and 5/1 Bengal Horse Artillery (Lt. G.A. Renny)

Jones knew what Campbell planned to do and that any action he took would be in support of Campbell’s plans; however, while the battle raged in Bareilly, Jones was still too far away to provide that decisive blow that Campbell had intended. Jones should have been in a position to take the city; instead, he was nowhere near it. However, that did not mean there was nothing for him to do. The rebels were not fools — they were perfectly aware that Jones was marching down from Moradabad and had taken measures to make his final leg to Bareilly as unpleasant as possible. At Meraganj, they had placed a strong picquet, well entrenched and ready to give him a warm welcome.

The problem was that the men manning the picquet were not quite as convinced of their success as their leaders. They were positively discomfited when Jones, realising his only way to Bareilly was effectively blocked by what he regarded as something of an insolent entrenchment, decided to open the day’s affair with artillery. They watched with some trepidation as he placed four guns of No. 7 Light Field Battery on the right of their position with a support of a squadron of the Dragoons and the Afghan Horse; in the centre of the road were his heavy guns, with the 1st Sikhs taking the right and 60th on the left, supported by the 17th Punjabis. Further to the left of the 60th stood the 1st Punjab Rifles. He then ordered the advance. The men in the entrenchment were not cowards, but this was certainly more than they could manage, and their only option was to flee. They abandoned the entrenchment as swiftly as Jones passed through it and retreated over the Doojra River to their rear, dragging along their guns along with them. Jones followed them down to the river, where he saw their intention was not to stand and fight him on this side, but to take their guns to the other side of the river, putting a reasonable distance between themselves and him. For Jones, the challenge now was to prevent the rebels from positioning their guns on the other bank.
Jones ordered the cavalry and artillery on the right to pass in quick order around the village and come down on the rebel flank. With Captain Andrew Smith leading, the cavalry swept down on the rebels and caused a momentary havoc, by slaying as many as came within arms reach, but at the river, Smith suddenly pulled up. He had no way of getting his three guns across the river, and behind him, the rebels had formed up their own cavalry and, without any ceremony, opened fire on Smith with their artillery. In all haste, Captain Austin, who had realised just what a pickle they were in, had wasted no time in turning his guns and replied, as rapidly as he could, with shrapnel, something so unexpectedly destructive, it gave the rebels a moment’s pause. It was their undoing for at the moment, the Dragoons swept down on them, “disconcerted” the cavalry who turned and fled, leaving the rebel guns unprotected. The gunners abandoned their guns and Smith claimed them for his own. The tale, however, as told by Captain Smith in his report is somewhat less clinical.

“I HAVE the honour to report, for the information of Brigadier-General J. Jones, C. B., Commanding the Roorkee Field Force, that on the 5th instant, agreeably to orders, I followed in pursuit of the retreating enemy from the -village of Meergunge, with the Affghan Horse and Coke’s Rissalah, the latter under Lieutenant R. F. Angelo, 1st Punjaub Infantry; strength together about 150.
During the pursuit, several fugitive horsemen were overtaken and immediately cut down. After about 3 miles’ chase, we came upon a horsed gun which had been abandoned by the flying enemy; having secured it, we had advanced but a short distance in continuance of the pursuit, when the rebels opened on us with grape and round shot. Observing that their fire swept down the road, I made a movement to the right, intending to charge their left flank; as, however, there was a very large force of cavalry in support of their position, and as my men had become much scattered, owing to the rapidity of the pursuit, I deemed it necessary to wait till I should get a larger body collected
The enemy perceived our flank movement, and kept turning their guns on us, thus removing their fire from the road, and leaving it clear for advance of the artillery of the advanced guard, which now came up, and taking up their position on our left, opened fire.
During our gradual movement to the right, we were under a heavy fire as the enemy had our range exactly. My own horse was killed under me by a round shot, as was also that of a Sowar, and some were wounded with grape.
As soon as our artillery ceased firing, we gal¬ loped forward, and got possession of 2 more guns, cutting down the few men who were just abandoning them, and continued the pursuit as far as the nullah at Dojoora. Here observing the enemy assembled, about 700 strong, on the opposite bank, and most of our own party being very much behind, owing to the length of the pursuit and rapidity of the rebels’ flight, I drew up in a tope on this side to get my men together, deeming that I carried out the orders I received in capturing the 3 guns, which were all the enemy were reported to have possessed. I should consider the enemy’s loss to be about 60 killed.”

Jones had the satisfaction of watching the rebels with their well-mounted cavalry and their inconvenienced general on his fine elephant repeat with some rapidity towards Bareilly. Jones crossed the river and called a halt for the day.

6 – 7 May

Early on 6 May, well before dawn, the camp was struck, and the Roorkee Field Force marched to Bareilly. Jones drew up his force as close as he could to the city. Having failed to gain any definitive intelligence regarding the movements of Sir Colin Campbell, Jones had to rely on what he could see. The country around him was “swarming with fugitive sowars,” as far as he could gather, Sir Colin Campbell had fought Khan Bahadur Khan the previous day and was now encamped in the cantonments. After taking in the situation as he could perceive it, Jones detached Captain Cureton with the Multani Cavalry in pursuit of the fleeing sowars and infantry, having ascertained their line of retreat. Cureton’s men plunged with some glee into this ghastly work, cutting up no less than 100 men and bringing him Jones the information that the general who had opposed him at Meraganj was among the dead.
A few townspeople informed Jones that the rebels had abandoned their guns over the bridge on this side of Bareilly, and he sent Brigadier Coke with a party of cavalry to verify the statement. Sure enough, Coke found the guns, but they were hardly abandoned; instead, they were very much manned and opened fire as soon as they caught sight of Coke. Coke sent Major Muter to report to Jones that he felt it would be advisable to move the heavy guns to his assistance to repay the compliment he had received at the bridge. Jones concurred, and Lieutenant Stubbs quickly moved his guns into position at some 12oo yards from the rebels.
While Stubbs occupied the rebel artillery in a duel that did not last more than a quarter of an hour before it was decided in Stubbs’ favour, Coke advanced the 60th Rifles, supported by the 17th Punjabis. They rushed up the street and captured “at the point of the bayonet” the guns the rebels were now in vainly trying to remove. To their surprise, out of nowhere, the Punjabis and the 60th were suddenly confronted by a band of Ghazis, full of the same ardour as the compatriots had shown the day before. They rushed the Punjabis and the rifles with a blind madness, slashing with their tulwars, killing outright the colour sergeant of the Rifles and severely cutting up several other men. The Punjabis took them to task and ended the event.
Brigadier Coke now directed the advance through the city, capturing the principal points and ordered certain streets barricaded. At the same time, Captain Lambert with the 1st Punjabis, two guns and a squadron of Dragoons made a sweep up the left of Bareilly, “bringing their left shoulders forward, swept the gardens clear of the enemy…” Captain Cureton with the Multanis, accompanied by Jones’ ADC Lieutenant H. Deeds, passed around the city and rode directly into Sir Colin’s camp. Before the morning was over, the Punjabi infantry had settled themselves down in Bareilly’s principal mosque for a well-earned rest.

The men of Campbell’s force had themselves been advancing that morning onto Bareilly when they were greeted by the thunderous sound of Jones’ guns. It must have been a curious state of affairs. Some hours earlier, Campbell had ordered his artillery to bombard the city, but had been met with complete silence. According to the information he now received from his spies, Bareilly had been abandoned to a man, hence no reply being made to his barrage — and yet, there was the sound of guns. Proceeding with some caution, the infantry approached the city but found it deserted, except for a few badmashes, left behind by Khan Bahadur Khan to give an illusion Bareilly was still occupied.

The next day, 7 May, with the same suddenness as on the day before, from a large house just outside the city itself sprang another band of Ghazis.

“…a company (I think it was No. 6 of the Ninety-Third) was sent to storm the house, after several shells had been pitched into it. This was done without much loss, except that of one man; I now forget his name, but think it was William MacDonald. He rushed into a room full of Ghazis, who, before his comrades could get to his assistance, had cut him into sixteen pieces with their sharp tulwars! As the natives said, he was cut into annas. But the house was taken, and the whole of the Ghazis slain, with only the loss of this one man killed and about half a dozen wounded.” (Forbes-Mitchell)

Lieutenant Cooper was said to have behaved with ‘great gallantry’ when he rushed forward to save the life of one of his sergeants, but if hospital assistant Menzies believed he would be given a similar compliment, he was very much mistaken. With the Ghazis striking at the 93rd, Menzies was suddenly overcome with an urge to fight – he dashed into the melee, quite forgetting he was a doctor, and sword drawn, pitched in. Once the fight was done, Colonel Ross took a good hold of poor Menzies and gave him such an earful for his behaviour, Surgeon Munro found it “quite hard.”

The remaining townspeople, quite heartily fed up with these carryings on, put together a deputation which they sent to Sir Colin Campbell, declaring their surrender of the city into his hands. By ten in the morning, the 93rd had pitched their camp on the grounds of the ruined church. As far as anyone could ascertain, Khan Bahadur Khan was indeed gone, and his entire army had left with him. Rumours flew about that the Nana Sahib was high-tailing it with his remaining followers towards the Nepali Serai; while this could not be verified, there was no doubt that Feroz Shah had detached himself from Khan Bahadur Khan and had gone back to attack Shajahanpore. The latter was more than rumour, and that particular problem would be dealt with the next day. It could now be said that Bareilly was taken, but it had not been the decisive victory that Sir Colin Campbell had wanted. The principal rebel leaders had once again eluded him; he had won another city, but he had not won the war. There would still be more fighting to do.

A Careless Accident

Bareilly had been quite thoroughly picked over – there was hardly any plunder left to satisfy even the least fussy of the Sikhs; it was not Lucknow after all, and whatever riches the city had long disappeared into other pockets. The rebels had, however, most likely by design, left an explosive surprise for the British. After their experiences in Lucknow, the men under Sir Colin Campbell should have known that the rebels were prone to filling dry wells with munitions; they had deliberately left barrels of powder in the streets with the hope they would catch embers from the burning houses; they had packed the Shah Najaf in November with enough powder that it had covered Forbes-Mitchell nearly to his knees when he stumbled upon it in a dark room. So, they should have been a little more careful at Bareilly, but it seems some lessons must be learned three times.
This time, the rebels had cast gunpowder and loaded shells into a dry well “under a huge tree” in the centre of the old cantonment.
“
“The well had been filled to the very mouth with powder and shells, and then covered with a thin layer of dry sand. A large number of ordnance khalasies (tent pitchers), bullock drivers, and dooly bearers had congregated under the tree to cook their mid-day meal, lighting their fires right on the top of this powder-magazine, when it suddenly exploded with a most terrific report, shaking the ground for miles, making the tent-pegs fly out of the hard earth, and throwing down tents more than a mile from the spot. I was lying down in a tent at the time, and the concussion was so great that I felt as if lifted clear off the ground. The tent-pegs flew out all round, and down came the tents, before the men, many of whom were asleep, had time to get clear of the canvas. By the time we got our arms free of the tents, bugles were sounding the assembly in all directions, and staff officers galloping over the plain to ascertain what had happened. The spot where the accident had occurred was easily found. The powder, having been in a deep well, it acted like a huge mortar, fired perpendicularly; an immense cloud of black smoke was sent up in a vertical column at least a thousand yards high, and thousands of shells were bursting in it, the fragments flying all round in a circle of several hundred yards. As the place was not far from the ammunition park, the first idea was that the enemy had succeeded in blowing up the ammunition; but those who had ever witnessed a similar accident could see that, whatever had happened, the concussion was too great to be caused by only one or two wagon-loads of powder. From the appearance of the column of smoke and the shells bursting in it, as if shot out of a huge mortar, it was evident that the accident was confined to one small spot, and the belief became general that the enemy had exploded an enormous mine. But after some time, the truth became known, the troops were dispersed, and the tents re-pitched.”

Sadly, the accident cost the lives of ” a large number of camp-followers and cattle belonging to the ordnance park.” These unfortunate people, as is the case throughout the mutiny, did not receive a grand monument for their sufferings and untimely deaths.

Further Proceedings

On the morning of the 7th, Brigadier John Jones finally met with Sir Colin Campbell. There was, of course, more work to do and in the first place, was the relief of Shajahanpore, where Hale, cooped up in the jail, was having a rough time of it. Jones would now march with the 60th Rifles, the 79th Highlanders, the 22nd Punjabi Infantry, two squadrons of the Dragoons, Cureton’s Multani Horse, some heavy guns and some horse artillery to Shajahanpore. What he had not considered in this, however, was the strong support the Moulvie had garnered in the meantime and kicking him out of Shajahanpore would prove to be a tougher fight than anticipated. The very next day, Jones left Bareilly and Sir Colin, satisfied that Jones would manage the rebels at Shajahanpore, set about making his plans. His first was to break up the Rohilkhand force.
He nominated Brigadier Walpole as divisional commander of the troops in Rohilkhand, much to the “indignant surprise and disappointment” of all the ranks who were remaining with him in Bareilly, which included many of the men who had not yet forgiven him for Ruiya. Garrisoning Bareilly would be Remmington’s Horse Artillery, the 2nd Punjab Cavalry, a wing of the 42nd with the 78th and 93rd Highlanders, all under Brigadier Sisted and the 17th Punjab Infantry. Of the remainder, a portion was sent back to Lucknow, and others would proceed to Meerut.
A column, consisting of a wing of the 42nd Highlanders, the 4th Punjab Rifles, the 1st Sikh Infantry, a portion of the 24th Punjab Infantry, a squadron of the Dragoons, a detachment of the 17th Irregular Cavalry, with enough artillery in tow and supplies for three weeks, were to make their way, under Brigadier Coke toward Pilibhit, in the footsteps of Khan Bahadur Khan.
As for himself, Sir Colin Campbell intended to “some central station on the great line of communication, whence he could more easily direct the general campaign.” With his headquarters’ staff, the 64th Foot, two troops of the 9th Lancers, the Baluchi Battalion, Tombs’ horse artillery, and Le Mesurier’s foot artillery, he intended to return to Fatehgarh. However, just like in 1857, 1858 would prove full of surprises. Even the best laid plans had a way of unravelling, as we shall see.

8 May – Hornets and a Magnificent Storm

The 8th of May broke in the camp at Bareilly with heat that surpassed even the worst days on the 21 days of marching. Jones and his column had set off early in the morning towards Shahjahanpore; there was scarcely a breath of air. At dawn, the vast plain shimmered under the first blinding rays of the sun. Back in camp, sleeping in the tents was impossible with the thermometer climbing slowly towards the 45° mark by mid-morning. It was to be a day of rest, but rest itself was impossible.
In tope of mango trees, a mile from the camp, was a picquet of the 93rd. The only work they had to break the monotony of the days was “to arrest all who strayed within our line of outlying sentries, and, after ascertaining that they had no arms concealed about their persons, placed them, unbound, under a special sentry, near the pile of arms. When the picket marched back to camp, on relief, each picket took its own prisoners with it and handed them over to the divisional authorities.” It was not as if people were flocking to and from Bareilly, and at some time in the afternoon, probably bored out of his mind, a young private picked up a stone and flung it, quite carelessly, at a hornet’s nest.
Gordon-Alexander was out visiting his outlying sentries that afternoon, accompanied by a corporal, three men and a bugler. He was suddenly “startled by startled by a tremendous hubbub amongst the picket, some 400 or 500 yards from where we were standing, and astonished to see the men running about in all directions; but we quickly attributed it to its true cause, viz., an attack by hornets, such as we had witnessed at the Alambagh. I ordered the bugler to sound the ‘ disperse, ‘ which was quickly taken advantage of by the main body of the picket to scatter themselves, pursued by the hornets, in all directions. One of the men had thrown a stone at a nest in one of the trees. I noticed, however, that the sentry over the prisoners, of whom there were five or six, had not moved, and seemed to be surrounded by little groups of hornets, which were apparently making vicious darts at him. I shouted to him to leave the prisoners, and again sounded the disperse,’ but he took no notice.
Eventually, when the hornets had dispersed, and I returned to our bivouac, and felt justified in sounding the ‘ assembly,’ I found the sentry still standing at ease at the head of the line of prisoners, who, far from making any effort to escape, had each covered himself up from top to toe in his loin- cloth under his head at one extremity, and under his heels at the other, to protect himself from the hornets, whilst the sentry, with bare knees, hands, and face, had ordered his arms, stood at ease, and, closing his eyes, had quietly endured their most painful stings. When we returned to him, his bare knees, head, neck, and face were swollen beyond recognition, and, although he was still standing, he did not understand us when we spoke to him, and fell down as soon as we took his rifle out of his hands. I sent him in a dhuli immediately to the regimental hospital in camp, where for some days his life was in great danger. On my return to camp next morning, I recommended him for some special reward for this display of Roman fortitude, first verbally, and then in writing, to the officer commanding the regiment. He might, I think, at least have been complimented before his comrades on a full -dress parade of the regiment when he recovered. Eventually, he was commended in a perfunctory manner by the officer commanding the regiment at the time, in the orderly- room tent, where I paraded him of my own initiative, after his discharge from hospital.“

An hour before sunset, the air in the camp and the plains suddenly became so still it was practically visible, with one man noting it could have been cut with a knife. In the distance, a rumble of thunder promised rain, but what happened next was beyond even the most vivid of imaginations. The wind, which first began as a stiff breeze, worked its way up in minutes to a gale and brought with it dust. “From the point whence this wind came, there was visible, behind and above the clouds of dust, something which looked like a gigantic wall of bright red brick, advancing at a slow and equable pace, and spreading as it approached more widely across the horizon. About it tumbled a confused mass of whirling black clouds, scintillating with incessant lightning, and convulsed by the throes of the thunder which echoed within them.”

The men started out of their tents and stood transfixed as a wall of sand rose high up into the air, and “and came across the track of the setting sun, darkness, as of an eclipse, fell upon the land, though on the opposite side of the horizon there still appeared a sort of pale, sickly twilight through the dust. As the storm approached it seemed as if the earth were beaten by the hoofs of myriads of cavalry.”

The storm broke just as the NCOs of No. 2 Company, 93rd Regiment were falling in to bury one of their own – Colour-Sergeant Mackie, who had succumbed the day before to sunstroke. Just as they were lowering the body into its grave, there came a crash of thunder as loud as an explosion of a powder mine. With the wall of sand, came hail, as large as pigeon eggs, sending the men of the funeral party rushing for cover; in the mango tope, the wind howled ferociously through the wind, sending the hail with such force against the bare legs and arms of the men that they were soon covered in cuts, as if from glass.

“The lightning flashed out in every variety of form—in narrow streaks, in broad belts of blinding light, in bright blue zigzags, in balls and bolts of fire, and in snapping jets, which seemed to leap from tree to tree, and to run along the ground amidst the hail. With two or three invalids. Brigadier Hagart and his aide-de-camp, Mr Gore, of the 7th Hussars, I was located in the ruined bungalow, compactly built of brick, and, though the windows and doors were gone, and even the framework had been removed, the roof, fortunately for us, had been left. So great, however, appeared the violence of the storm and the strength of the gale, that Ave were apprehensive the stout walls would be brought down upon us…The moment the tempest reached the spot upon which the bungalow stood, we were plunged into darkness, or rather, rapidly intermittent intervals of darkness barred the glare of the blaze of incessant lightning. The rain fell in torrents; with it were jagged hailstones, or transparent frozen lumps of water, the majority of which, as far as I could form an opinion from the numerous specimens which came into the bungalow, exceeded in size a pigeon’s egg. In a short time, we were driven to the lee of a wall in another room by the torrents of rain. One globe of fire, descending like a shell, struck a tall tree in the middle within a few feet of the house, and clove it in two, the upper part beating down a tent below it to the ground, the occupant happily escaping unhurt.”

Tent pegs wrenched from the ground by the sudden force of the wind, sent tent after tent to the ground, burying within them their occupants; a mess tent was soundly blown away and hurtled across the plain, chased in vain by a few servants. After raging for an hour and levelling nearly the entire camp, the storm rumbled its way across the plain, leaving in its wake a torrent of rain that lasted most of the night. Every stream and dry creek woke to life, and by morning, where there had been a rivulet was now a small river in its place, while the plain turned into a vast marsh. Gordon-Alexander could not resist his natural urge to grumble, stating, “My native servants were rendered so stupidly helpless by the storm that it was past eleven o’clock that night before they brought me from camp a dry suit and something to eat.”

Campaigning in India had just taken a new turn; while this was only prelude to the monsoon that was on its way, the soldiers of the army had just had a taste of an enemy they would never be able to fight – the rains.

^{Sources:
Behan, T.L. — Bulletins and Other State Intelligence for the Year 1858, Part III (Harrison & Sons, London Gazette Office, 1860)
Forrest, G. W. — A History of the Indian Mutiny, Vol III (London: William Blackwood & Sons, 1912)
Forbes-Mitchell, William — Reminiscences of the Great Mutiny (London: Macmillan & Co., 1894)
Gordon-Alexander, Lieut. Col. W. — Recollections of a Highland Subaltern (London: Edward Arnold, 1898)
Jocelyn, Col. Julian R.J.— The History of the Royal and Indian Artillery in the Mutiny of 1857 (London: John Murray, 1915)
Malleson, Col. G.B. — History of the Indian Mutiny, Vol. II (London: William H. Allen & Co., 1879)
Russell, William Howard — My Diary in India, Vol. II (London: Routledge, Warne & Routledge, 1860)}