Page:The Mutiny of the Bengal Army.djvu/42

38. In some instances outrages were perpetrated which the pen refuses to record. These men, whom we had pampered for a century, who had always professed the utmost devotion to us, seemed suddenly converted into demons. Nor was this a solitary example; other stations were destined to witness atrocities fouler, more brutal, and more treacherous than even those of Meerut.

Meanwhile unaccountable delay occurred in turning out the European troops, and night had set in before the Carabineers arrived on the parade-ground of the 11th Native Infantry. They found there the 60th Rifles and Artillery waiting for them. Their arrival was the signal for a move against the rebels. They found, however, that by this time their work of destruction within the station had been completed, and that they had betaken themselves to the Delhi road. Thither they followed them. The night, however, was too dark, and the movements of the insurgents too uncertain, to permit our troops to act with vigour. A portion of the rebels were, it is true, found in a wood, and shots were exchanged between them and the 60th Rifles. The Artillery, too, fired upon and dispersed them; but it was considered that nothing more effective could be done; that fifteen hundred jail-birds, maddened with the taste of blood, were at large, and might still inflict incalculable damage on the station; and that, at such a crisis, the presence of the troops was absolutely required there. These, at least, are all the reasons that can be imagined (for none have hitherto been assigned) for the languid pursuit of that evening. One fact is clear, that the rebels were not followed up with any vigour, and that, after seeing them clear of the station, the troops returned to the scene of the outbreak of the mutiny, and there bivouacked. The night was spent "in taking precautions against attack, and in measures preliminary to strengthening the place, so as to secure it, if the troops should be compelled to leave it."

The horrors of that fearful night could scarcely have been surpassed. The rebels, it is true, had been driven away, but the liberated prisoners and the rabble continued their fearful work. It is true that European sentries were posted, with all possible celerity, in the different parts of Meerut; and the constant fire of their rifles showed that their presence was necessary. Still, in spite of all precautions, foul deeds were even then perpetrated. To every one it was a night of agonising suspense. Husbands had missed their wives, and wives their husbands; infants had been separated from their mothers, and mothers from their children. Many passed the night, depending entirely on the fidelity of their native servants; and it is gratifying to state that, in more than one instance, that fidelity was proof. To this source Mr. Greathed, the commissioner, and his wife, owed their safety. Their house—a flat-roofed one, fortunately—was one of the first attacked by the Sepoys. On the first alarm they fled to the roof; thither, on the least intimation from the servants, the Sepoys would have followed them: but these persisted in