On 1 February 1858, Sir Colin Campbell left Fatehgarh. With him went his staff, a troop of the Bengal Horse Artillery, the 9th Lancers and a squadron of Bengal cavalry. They proceeded by forced marches over well-trodden ground, arriving in Cawnpore on the 4th.
A few hours after his departure, Hope Grant started out in the same direction – he had been advised that while Campbell’s ride had a necessity for speed, his did not; if he arrived in Cawnpore in the next seven days, it would suffice. His troop was certainly larger than Sir Colin’s, for marching with him were the headquarters of the cavalry and artillery, together with his infantry brigade. Walpole was ordered to stay in Fatehgarh for three more days; if things remained calm and the rebels kept their distance, he was to follow Hope Grant to Cawnpore. Brigadier Thomas Seaton was left in overall charge of Fatehgarh with a small force – HM’s 82nd Regiment of Foot, a light field battery of the Royal Artillery, a small group of sappers and a body of volunteer and police cavalry.

As soon as he arrived in Cawnpore, Sir Colin Campbell decided it was imperative he travel to Allahabad, to meet with Lord Canning, who had, in the third week of January, moved his headquarters there. Away from the wily machinations of Calcutta, Canning was able now to display the vigour and energy so long denied him by his advisors. From here, he would personally take control of smaller operations, relevant for the further pacification of the North Western Provinces and Rohilkhand, by appointing moveable columns. These, too, would further secure Campbell from rear attacks to allow him to proceed with the taking of Lucknow unhindered.

Back in Cawnpore, Sir Hope Grant had taken command, on Sir Colin’s orders, of the entire area between Cawnpore and Banni Bridge, to keep the road open on both sides of Cawnpore. At his disposal, he had four complete infantry regiments along with the wings of two others, two European cavalry regiments, the 1st Punjab Cavalry and several artillery batteries. While Sir Colin hurried towards Allahabad, Grant proceeded to Unnao. Here, he found, in camp, 3500 men among them the newly arrived 79th Highlanders and HM’s 38th Regiment, both “in excellent order”; shortly after, the 7th Hussars joined him. General Mansfield, Sir Colin’s Chief of Staff, rapidly handed him a paper, empowering Grant to make any changes he liked, regarding the distribution of the troops.

Intelligence, however, had reached Lieutenant Roberts, through his spy, Tewari, that the Nana Sahib was near, and Mansfield ordered Grant to organise an expedition to catch the Nana. This particular game was slowly gaining ridiculous proportions, as no one could quite say where the Nana was. He had made a brief appearance, if it was to be believed, close to Fatehgarh, where Gough had tried to nab him as he crossed the Ganges, but that proved fruitless. Others seemed to think he was already on his way to Nepal. Now it seemed he had recrossed the river and was hiding at Fatehpur Chaorasi, some 25 miles north on the Cawnpore road, on the banks of the Ganges. As such, Grant set off with men of the 34th, 38th and 53rd Regiments, two squadrons each of the 7th Hussars and 9th Lancers, and two troops of Horse Artillery (Anderson’s and Turners with two 9-pounders, an 18-pounder and an 8-inch howitzer) and a company of Sappers.
In his ranks, whether Grant knew it or not, trouble was brewing. The day before he marched, the grass cutters of the 9th Lancers, instead of bringing grass for the horses, had made a deal with the infantry and were smuggling country liquor into the camp. Caught by Octavius Anson, seven of them were ordered flogged on the spot. Devilry had invaded Grant’s ranks, and the full extent of it would soon be known.

Grant commenced his march on 15 February and arrived at Nana’s hideout of Fatehpur Chaorasi two days later, to find the bird had flown the coop. The rebels who were following in his wake were somewhat slower – instead of turning to fight Grant, they abandoned their two small field pieces and made off across the country while the 9th Lancers pursued them, killing some 20 of their number. Grant would, however, have to contend with the renegade behaviour of men like Oliver Jones, who had joined up as a volunteer (and Anson calls contemptuously, an “amateur”). At Fatehpur Chaorasi, with some pride, Jones related the following incident.

“In riding round the town after the cavalry, I saw Anson dig a fellow out of the high dholl, with his arms, and take him prisoner; soon afterwards, seeing a donkey in the dholl, I thought that there was something else, and on cantering up, sure enough, there was an old scamp and his family. I made him give up his arms by the cogent persuasion of a revolver at his head, and come along with me; as he tried to bolt, and gave me a chevy, doubling like a hare, when I caught him again. I took him in tow by the hair of his head, and made him walk by my side; however, I thought it would do no great good taking the old fellow up to camp, where he would probably have been hung, having been captured with arms in his hand, so giving him a good kick in the seat of honour, I told him to jow, and he was off and out of sight in some thick plantation in the twinkling of an eye.” (Jones)

Fatehpur Chaorasi was quickly demolished – the fort was razed to the ground and the surrounding buildings laid to waste. Since there was nothing else to do here, Grant marched to Bangarmau and encamped his force in the shade of a large grove of trees. The town was well-built and appeared to be quite large; Grant had no intention of molesting its citizens, who wasted no time in sending out their “most respectable inhabitants.” These begged Grant to spare their town; they had been loyal and continued to be so; any supplies Grant needed were his for the asking. In his turn, Grant sent 100 men of the 53rd into the town to patrol the streets; the order to their commanding officer was clear – they were to arrest anyone, be it soldier or civilian, caught looting. Unfortunately, in no time, another delegation arrived from Bangurmow, this time with wails of consternation. The camp followers, they said, were plundering the town, and the guard Grant had sent was “looting everything they could lay their hands on.” With no time to waste, Grant galloped into Bangarmau with all speed to find the citizens had not told him the worst of it. One-half of the 53rd were not at their posts, and their officers did not appear to care. Grant “pitched into the officer” and then rode through the streets. The scene beggared belief.

“There I found several men scattered in twos and threes amongst the different houses, and robbing right and left. I made them all prisoners, handed them over to the guard I had brought with me, and then, returning to the main picket, which I had directed to confine every man who returned, I ascertained there were altogether 25 men in durance. These wild Irishmen were marched out in front of the house. I had them tied up, and twelve of their number were flogged on the spot. I placed two of the officers in arrest and caused the guard to be relieved by a party from another regiment. The next morning, I paraded the whole of the 53d, and gave it to them most handsomely over the face and eyes. I told them, in the words of Sir Charles Napier, that without perfect obedience, ‘an army is an armed mob, dangerous to its friends and contemptible to its enemies.’

The 53rd appeared to have taken Grant’s words to heart, at least for now. In the future, on the line of march, every time they saw Grant approaching, a voice would pipe up, “Now, boys, take care of your backs. Here is the provost-marshal coming.” It was, however, not the end of their devilry.

Although the Nana was as elusive as ever, there was other work to be done. On 21 February, Grant marched to Sultanganj, where, to his surprise, he received a letter from a man named Mr Forman, a Eurasian clerk once in the employ of the Deputy Commission of Mulaon. The man had been in hiding since the outbreak of the mutiny, but instead of being a hounded fugitive, he had been under the protection of Khan Singh, a kindly old Zamindar. Singh had “taken the greatest care of him, and had hidden him in cornfields, and in holes dug in the ground and even in his own house.” Singh had faced constant threats from the government at Lucknow, whose constant demands for Forman’s head had turned into all-out threats against Singh’s life. Singh, however, had managed to evade their every demand and had continued to keep Forman safe. Now with Grant taking care of affairs, Singh could finally send Forman in safety to the British camp.
Mr Forman was hardly the only Eurasian still in hiding in 1858. In their boorish prejudices, not uncommon in the day, the British, when fleeing from their stations, had often neglected to take the Eurasians along. It was presumed that, being half-Indian, they were capable of hiding themselves if they needed to flee at all. However, they had forgotten to take into consideration that, as Christians, their chances of survival were about as bad as their own. Many had large families to tend to, and besides that, often had no arms or money to speak of. A similar prejudice was eked out on Amelia Horne after she escaped from captivity – it was not believed at first that she had survived Satichaura Ghat, and to make matters worse, being “dusky in complexion”, and therefore, her sufferings, though cruel, were played down. Amelia would spend an inordinate amount of time trying to prove her English roots, right down to exaggerating portions of her background to gain credibility as a young lady brought up with every refinement of society. How many Christian Eurasians perished in the mutiny has never been adequately recorded.