When the rebellious regiments left Sialkote, with their Colours flying and bugles blaring, followed by ex-servants of the Europeans and a myriad of camp followers, their baggage train filled with the possessions of their late officers and the moneys of the looted treasury, they were still labouring under the impression that their friends – the sepoys from Jhelum – had been victorious. For now, things could not have been going better. The left wing of the 9th Light Cavalry, away with the Moveable Column, could be counted on, at the right moment, to turn against the British. HM’s 52nd was to their knowledge, in Amritsar, there was a good chance the 2nd Irregulars at Gurdaspur would join in the march to Delhi, hope lay with the 4th BNI at Kangra and Nurpur and the 16th Irregulars at Hoshiarpur could still swell their ranks.

Unfortunately, they had not taken the civilians at those stations into their reckoning.

Kangra, Nurpur and Gurdaspur

Major Reynell Taylor, officiating Deputy Commissioner of Kangra, had not been resting quietly. Like the other civil officers in the Punjab, he had been making preparations long before the outbreaks at Jhelum and Silakot. On the 15th of May, when he first received news of the Meerut mutiny at his residence in Dharamsala, he sprang into action.
A portion of the Police Battalion of Dharamsala was sent to him by their commander, Captain Younghusband, to garrison Kangra Fort at his request. Instructions received from Major Edward Lake, Commissioner and Superintendent of the Trans-Sutlej States, requested Taylor to provision said fort with 6 months’ supplies; this done, Taylor then contrived to remove a brass 24-pounder howitzer without arousing the suspicions of the Native Artillery. While contemplating how this would be done, the artillery was ordered for duty in Lahore – as soon as their backs were out of sight, Taylor moved the howitzer into the citadel and placed it on the topmost bastion of the fort.

Then, after organising for the defence of Dharamsala, Taylor moved his residence to Kangra to be nearer the troops and officers. He continued to keep a close watch on a querulous local raja, kept an eye on all the posts coming in and out of Kangra and following the revolt at Jalandhar, “spared no pains to render the ferries of the district secure against mishap.” Local levies were raised to replace the police detachment removed from Dharamsala, and due to the exposed state of the town and area surrounding Nurpur, he elicited the help of a Tek Chand, a man of some influence, to raise levies and keep the peace. On the 25th of June, acting on a directive from Robert Montgomery, Taylor disarmed the civilian populations of Nurpur, Kangra and Dharmsala. In this campaign, Taylor included all the domestic servants and “the numerous class of jampanees” who were all made to deposit their weapons at the government office.
Guards were raised from the local villages – only three or four men per road – to stop suspicious travellers. News soon spread, and after the first few were sent in for examination, Taylor was quite sure that if there were emissaries from Delhi in his neighbourhood dressed as fakirs, they were certainly not going to arrive in Dharamsala or Kangra. By July, the left wing of the 4th BNI at Kangra was still doing their duty admirably. To prevent temptation, Taylor had ensured that no thesil retained a significant treasury beyond regular expenses. The rebels would only have the slimmest of pickings where Taylor was concerned.
The outbreak at Sialkote brought another flurry of news to Taylor. Montgomery entreated him in a demiofficial letter to disarm the 4th BNI.

“The Sealkot force has mutinied. It is of the utmost importance that the Kangra fort be secured, and the men of the 4th N.I. in it should be disarmed at all risks. I believe they are not numerous and under 200. The Police Corps in possession of the citadel could do this. The difficulty is about Noorpoor, and I have nothing to suggest. You, Younghusband and Wilkie will best be able to decide. But the difficulty of carrying it out should not, I think, prevent at once securing Kangra. Were the mutineers to get into it, the disaffected hill people might rise, and it would take a force with guns to get them out, which we do not possess. I send this through Brigadier Nicholson, whose experience may be able to suggest something. Delay not to act. R. Montgomery.
P.S. from Nicholson – I can suggest nothing. You and the officers on the spot are the best judges of how you should act. God bless what you do. – John Nicholson.“

Taylor called on Captain John William Younghusband to make the arrangements. At 5 o’clock on the same day, Younghusband proceeded to the fort with the 2nd Battalion of Punjab Police, relieved the magazine guards and allowed the battalion to take up their quarters in the fort. He then communicated to the commanding officer, Wilkie, that the 4th must be disarmed. Within 20 minutes, it was done.
The left wing of the 4th BNI was then removed to Hoshiapur.
On the same night, Taylor marched to Nurpur with 100 men of the Police Battalion. Before he arrived, Major Wilkie had received intimation by express that he should forthwith disarm all the native troops in the station. As such, the right wing of the 4th BNI was disarmed, a procedure they acceded to “cheerfully and obediently”.
In Taylor’s estimation, the 4th BNI “held a fort and were in the direct line of the mutineers and had they merely rushed like others to wait and watch events it would have been very embarrassing. As it was, their cheerfully giving up their arms greatly simplified matters and was a real solid act of good faith and obedience to Government.” Interestingly enough, the right wing remained loyal, but not so the left; however, they waited a very long time to mutiny – until May 1858.

Taylor believed, by the intelligence received, the Sialkote mutineers would probably move towards Nurpur and attempt to gain the lines of the 4th BNI. If this happened, then it was likely they would then make for the higher ghats on the Ravi River. As such, he ensured the boats had been hauled up onto the banks and the planks removed from the bottom, rendering them unusable. The last boat at Bissowli was destroyed much to the irritation of the Maharaja’s guard, but the Raja of Chumba, at Taylor’s request, sent 300 men to the Bisowli ghat to catch any stragglers from the Sialkot force in case they tried to make their way through the nearby jungle tracts. Further levies were organised on the junction of the Chukkee and Nurpur rivers, at villages on the supposed line of march, and daks were established from all the main points into Nurpur. Further river crossings were guarded by men of the Seba and Hurreepore Rajas. Taylor noted,
“We were not helpless or unprepared, but thousands of unbroken, desperate men would have upset the whole country for a time. The storm was providentially averted, and the peace of the district remained unbroken.”

Gurdaspur

Like Taylor, James Naesmyth, Deputy Commissioner of Gurdaspur, was quick to make his arrangements. He started by gathering intelligence on any agitation apparent in the district.
“Any overt indication of such it would be necessary at once to crush; hence the first measure adopted was to ensure the regular, accurate and direct communication of intelligence from each outpost of the district as the to the state of the feeling &c., in the neighbourhood. The Police, whilst required to transmit such direct to me, were further enjoined at once to arrest any agitator or suspicious person or person who might be disseminating or stirring up mischief, or who could not satisfactorily account for themselves.”
Communication was ensured by runners posted at intervals along the roads. The Mounted Police were reserved for the transmission of extraordinary intelligence, and spies were sent into all parts of the district to gauge the sentiments of the local aristocracy and landowners.
Naesmyth then removed nearly all the treasure from the Gurdaspur and sent it to Amritsar under an escort of the 2nd Irregular Cavalry. By the 20th of May, the treasure was safely stored away, and Gurdaspur only had enough money left for current expenses. With this depleted account, Naesmyth had an excuse to send away the detachment of the 59th NI, as they were no longer needed. They were not relieved by a fresh detachment, and the treasury was guarded instead by the Police Battalion. Pickets of mounted police were positioned in the station, some were detached to serve as messengers to Amtrisar if needed, and others were sent out to patrol the neighbourhood around the station.

Thirty extra burkundazes were appointed to guard the jail, thus freeing the Police Battalion for surveillance of the public offices and relieving the Mounted Police for night duty. All outside visitation and interviews with the prisoners in the jail were stopped, and the inmates were only allowed in-door labour, mainly brick-making. At night, they were moved to larger wards and “…linked together by a strong chain, which was padlocked at either end. As long as the prisoners kept quiet, and each could recline as usual, whilst it prevented any movement on the part of the individuals without disturbing the others.” Sentries were ordered to visit the wards repeatedly at night, and Naesmyth instructed the Native Officer of the guard what to do should the prisoners become restless. Like at the other stations, all post at Gurdaspore was inspected, and the bags were opened in front of the Naesmyth himself – as such, he found little seditious material, but there were letters “casting strong suspicion on some of the Moonshees of the Canal Establishment.” He then fortified the only defendable building in Gurdaspur – the treasury – sinking an extra well and supplying it with adequate provisions in case of a siege.

Unlike Taylor, who was worried about fakirs, Naesmyth was concerned with mullahs and the Mohamendan community of Gurdaspur. He sent out his spies; however, he deduced that although,
“… special measures were taken to ascertain the temper and sentiments of this class of the community as manifested or expressed at the mosques by their ‘Mullas’ and other influential persons among them. Nothing, however, of a treasonable nature was disclosed; it is probable that they had a shrewd idea that they were watched.”

Finally, his attention turned to the ferries. On the 16th of May, 66 extra burkundazes, who were fully armed and equipped a few days later, were dispatched to the crossings. A small guard was stationed at each ferry where the Ravi River crossed the district while at the central ferry, “Trimmoo”, a strong burkandaze guard was posted under the command of a carefully selected NCO of the Police Battalion. This particular body was independent of the other guards on the river, allowing them to act as a moveable column should they be needed at a moment’s notice at any of the other crossings. Meanwhile, mud breastworks were built up at each ferry, the boats were collected and drawn up at night, and arrangements were made to scuttle these at a moment’s notice. Passengers were scrutinised, and anyone unable to account for themselves was detained. As it was, Naesmyth had 40 miles of river to safeguard – realising the impossibility of the task, on the 12th of June, all ferries except 4 were sunk, and the guards were thus concentrated at the remaining four crossings. A further watch was set on the sunken boats, and the line of the river set under constant patrol.
With orders from Lahore to actively recruit new levies, Naesmyth found he was soon swamped with potential recruits, his difficulty being “without damping ardour, to select the suitable ones from the hosts who came forward.” Raised, trained and equipped, Naesmyth was able to send a “goodly number” to Major Lake and as soon as the men he kept in his service were organised and drilled, they were told off for station duties and without Naesmyth realising it at the time, would soon be called on “to assist in the subsequent affair at Trimmoo.”

John Nicholson and the Moveable Column

“He seemed always to know exactly what to do and the best way to do it. This was the more remarkable because, though a soldier by profession, his training had been chiefly that of a civilian — a civilian of the frontier, however, where his soldierly instincts had been fostered in his dealing with a lawless and unruly people, and where he had received training which was now to stand him in good stead. Nicholson was a born Commander, and this was felt by every officer and man with the column before he had been amongst them many days.” (Lieutenant Roberts on John Nicholson)

The lonely years Nicholson had spent on those lawless frontiers had taught him the value of good intelligence; where he had been, knowing what your enemy was going to do, long before they did it was the difference between leaving your house alive or returning to it as a dead man. It is of little surprise then that the Sialkote Brigade had been watched almost from the moment they left the station. The news from Sialkote had prompted Nicholson to disarm the left wing of the 9th Cavalry at Amritsar along with the 59th. He then set about figuring out what the Sialkote Brigade was likely to do next.

Considering the direction they had taken when they left the station, Nicholson surmised they most probably intended to “…plunder the station of Gurdaspur, and get the 2nd Irregular Cavalry there to join them. They would then have proceeded via Nurpur and Hoshiarpur to Jalandhar, whence they could have made the best of their way to Delhi. It was evident that, as the mutineers had two days’ start, and as Gurdaspur was something over forty-one miles from my encampment, no time was to be lost. I, therefore, decided on reaching that station in a single forced march.” What Nicholson was proposing would have turned the hearts of even the most battle-hardened warriors to water. A forced march in the Punjab, before the monsoons, with temperatures reaching as high as 118° F during the day, was no laughing matter. For Indian troops, it was doubtlessly a hardship, but to expect it of Europeans was considered a singular form of madness, if not impossible. Nicholson did not, however, retain the word impossible in his vocabulary.
Summarily confiscating the requisite amount of horses needed from the disarmed cavalry to mount his newly raised irregulars, and by organising 200 ekkas (with all the ponies belonging to the grasscutters of the 9th Cavalry) to save as many Europeans as possible from the toil of marching under these conditions, at 9 pm, on the 10th of July, Nicholson set out from Amristar. He left behind three guns and about 2 companies of the HM’s 52nd to “overawe” the 35th and 59th Regiments, recently joined in their disarmed state, by the left wing of the 9th Bengal Cavalry. His force now consisted of 128 European and 61 Native Artillerymen, 658 men of HM’s 52nd, 2 companies of a frontier Police Battalion (Sherdil-ki-Paltan or Regiment of the Lionhearted) and some newly raised Sikh cavalry irregulars.

The night march went smoothly and at pace. By morning, they had arrived at Battala, 26 miles on the road to Gurdaspur, and a halt was called. Bread, rum and milk in abundance were served out to the troops. At 10 am, they were called to march the remaining miles.
Bouchier recalled,

“With these appliances (ekkas) even, many fell victims to the heat. When mounted, it was had enough, but for an infantry soldier, with his musket and sixty rounds of ammunition in pouch, it was terrific. Yet under these circumstances, trying as they were, the spirit of fun was not extinct, the artillery made extemporary awnings of branches of trees over their gun carriages and waggons giving them the appearance of carts ‘got up’ for a day at Hampstead, officers crowned with wreaths of green leaves were ‘chaffed’ by their comrades for adopting head dresses à la Norma. Here might be seen a soldier on a rampant pony, desiring his companion on a similar beast, ‘to keep behind and be his edge de camp,’ there a hero, mindful perhaps of Epping on Easter Monday, bellowing out his inquiries as to ‘who had seen the fox?’ Privates never intended for the mounted branch, here and there came to grief and lay sprawling on mother earth while ever and anon some mighty Jehu in his eklia dashed to the front at a pace a Roman charioteer would have envied.”

During the hottest part of the day, a halt was called beside a grove of trees to enable the travel-weary men a few hours’ rest. Nicholson, not particularly impressed, allowed the stop nevertheless. One of his officers, waking up after a brief sleep, enquired where he could find the Nicholson, as he did not see him among the dozing men. At last, he saw Nicholson sitting bolt upright on his horse in the middle of the road in the full glare of the sun, waiting ” like a sentinel turned to stone” for the men to resume their march. Roused and ready, the men marched onwards to Gurdaspur, the artillery arriving at 3 pm on the 11th of July, 18 hours after they left Amritsar. Behind them was the rest of the column, who finally rolled into camp three hours later.
The Sialkote Brigade had been taking things at a more leisurely pace. While Nicholson was securing Gurdaspur from their anticipated attack, they were still eight miles away beyond the River Ravi, wholly unaware that the Moveable Column had left Amritsar. “So carefully was the road to the river guarded, that not a Hint had they received as to the whereabouts of the column; neither had the views of General Nicholson got wind in camp.“

The same day, the following Regimental Order was published for the 52nd:

Camp Goordasepore, July 11th, 1857.
“The colonel commanding reminds the regiment that it is within a march of the Sealkote mutineers, and he feels sure that every individual in it will spare no exertions to come in contact with these treacherous and murdering scoundrels.”

A detachment of the 52nd under Lieutenant R.D. Burroughs was left at Gurdaspur to secure the rear, and early the next morning, on the 12th, Nicholson moved his camp to better grounds. Rumours flew about that the rebels had somehow managed to slip through their grasp or had somehow gained news that Nicholson was in the neighbourhood, and they had fled to the hills. Nothing, however, could be further from the truth. As soon as they arrived at their new grounds, it became evident the Sialkot Brigade were now in Nicholson’s sights.

Intelligence received from Naesmyth informed Nicholson that the rebels had marched to Trimmoo Ghat on the Ravi. Naesmyth had immediately ordered all the remaining boats scuttled, and not a single boat was left afloat. The river had been rising daily due to the snow melt from the mountains, “so that although all the fords were believed to be impassable, the necessarily uncertain depth of the river at this period (rising and falling at times two and three feet in twelve hours) rendered it impossible entirely to depend on all these passages being so; and so it happened … that on the morning of the 12th July the Syalkote mutinous troops crossed (though up to their throats in water) at Trimmoo…”

When they were sighted, they were drawn up in battle array at the village of Wazirpur, about half a mile from the river, still unaware of Nicholson. He did not leave them much time to prepare.

“The 52nd, still wearied with their terrific march of the previous day, pressed on as if fatigue was unknown to them. At about 1 pm, we came in sight of the advanced videttes of the 9th Cavalry, dancing about in their grey jackets. General Nicholson, thinking only of getting’a good bag’ – in fact hoping that, with the river in their rear, he would be able to annihilate the enemy_ masked his column by a line of Punjaub-mounted Police, and marched to within musket range of their line before a shot was fired.”

The Battle of Trimmu Ghat and its terrible consequences for the Sialkote Brigade was about the commence.

^{Sources:
Bourchier, George. Eight Months’ Campaign against the Bengal Sepoy Army, during the Mutiny of 1857. London: Smith, Elder and Co., 1858.
Cave-Browne, J. The Punjab and Delhi in 1857. Vol. 2. Edinburgh: William Blackwood and Sons, 1861.
Gimlette, G. H. D. A Postscript to the Records of the Indian Mutiny. London: H. F. & G. Witherby, 1927.
Kaye, John William. A History of the Sepoy War in India, 1857–1858. Vol. 2. London: W. H. Allen & Co., 1880.
Moorsom, W. S., ed. Historical Record of the Fifty-Second Regiment (Oxfordshire Light Infantry) from the Year 1755 to the Year 1858. London: Richard Bentley, 1860.
Papers Relating to the Mutiny in the Punjab in 1857. London: Printed by Order of the House of Commons, 1859.
Punjab Government. Mutiny Reports: Reports on Events in the Cis-Sutlej Division. Vol. 8, Part 1 of Selections from the Punjab Government Records. Lahore: Punjab Government Press, 1911.
Trotter, Lionel J. The Life of John Nicholson: Soldier and Administrator. London: John Murray, 1904.}