The Tale of the Great MutinyFitchett, W. H. (William Henry)
History
The Tale of the Great Mutiny
Fitchett, W. H. (William Henry)
India -- History -- Sepoy Rebellion, 1857-1858
Sir Joseph Fayrer tells how, early in 1857, he was a member of a
tiger-shooting expedition into the Terai. It was a merry party, and
included some famous shots and great civil officials. They had killed
their eleventh tiger when the first news of the rising reached the party.
“All my companions,” says Fayrer, “except Gubbins, were victims of the
Mutiny during the year. Thomason was murdered at Shah Jehanpore; Gonne in
the Mullahpore district; Colonel Fischer was killed by the men of his own
regiment; Thornhill was murdered at Seetapore; Lester was shot through
the neck during the siege of Lucknow; Graydon was killed after the first
relief of Lucknow.” Swift-following deaths of this sort have to be
multiplied over the whole area of the Mutiny, before we can realise what
it cost in life.
Fayrer, as a single example of the sort of tragedies which took place on
every side, tells how his brother, who was an officer in a regiment of
irregular cavalry, was killed. He was second in command of a detachment
supposed to be of loyalty beyond suspicion. It had been sent by Lawrence
from Lucknow to maintain order in the unsettled districts. There was
no sign that the men intended to rise. The morning bugle had gone, the
troop was ready to start, and young Fayrer, who had gone out, walked to
a well with his charger’s bridle over his arm, and was drinking water
from a cup. Suddenly one of his own troopers came up behind him and cut
him down through the back of the neck with his tulwar. “The poor lad—only
twenty-three—fell dead on the spot, gasping out the word ‘mother’ as he
fell.” The troopers instantly rode at the three other British officers
of the detachment. One of these slew three Sepoys before he was killed
himself; the second, ill mounted, was overtaken and slain; the third, a
splendid rider, made a reckless leap over a nullah, where his pursuers
dared not follow, and so escaped.
Before describing the great drama at Cawnpore, or Lucknow, or Delhi, it
is worth while to give, if only as hasty vignettes, some pictures of what
happened at many of the stations scattered through Oude and the Punjaub.
They are the opening episodes of a stupendous tragedy.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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