Begumbagh: A Tale of the Indian MutinyFenn, George Manville
History
Begumbagh: A Tale of the Indian Mutiny
Fenn, George Manville
British -- India -- Fiction; India -- History -- Fiction; India -- History -- Sepoy Rebellion, 1857-1858 -- Fiction
Now, I'm very particular about putting all this down, because I want you
to see how we all were one with the other, and how right through the
battalion little things made us out of sorts with one another, and
hardly friendly enough to speak, so that the difference may strike you,
and you may see in a stronger light the alteration and the behaviour of
people when trouble came.
All the same, though, I don't think it's possible for anybody to make a
long march in India without getting out of temper. It's my belief that
the grit does it, for you do have that terribly; and what with the heat,
the dust, the thirst, the government boots, that always seem as if made
not to fit anybody, and the grit, I believe even a regiment all
chaplains would forget their trade.
Tramp, tramp, tramp, day after day, and nearly always over wide, dreary,
dusty plains. Now we'd pass a few muddy paddy-fields, or come upon a
river, but not often; and I many a time used to laugh grimly to myself,
as I thought what a very different place hot, dusty, dreary India was,
to the glorious country I used to picture, all beautiful trees and
flowers, and birds with dazzling plumage. There are bright places
there, no doubt, but I never came across one, and my recollections of
India are none of the most cheery.
But at last came the day when we were crossing a great wide-spread
plain, in the middle of which seemed to be a few houses, with something
bright here and there shining in the sun; and as we marched on, the
cluster of houses appeared to grow and grow, till we halted at last in a
market square of a good-sized town; and that night we were once more in
barracks. But, for my part, I was more gritty than ever; for now we did
not see the colonel's lady or her sister, though I may as well own that
there was some one with them that I wanted to see more than either.
They were all, of course, at the colonel's quarters, a fine old palace
of a place, with a court-yard, and a tank in the centre, and trees, and
a flat roof, by the side of the great square; while on one side was
another great rambling place, separated by a narrowish sort of alley,
used for stores and hospital purposes; and on the other side, still
going along by the side of the great market square, was another
building, the very fellow to the colonel's quarters, but separated by a
narrow footway, some ten feet wide, and this place was occupied by the
officers.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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