Note

Cavanagh’s Adventure.—At p. it is mentioned that Mr Cavanagh, an uncovenanted civil servant of the Company in the Residency at Lucknow, volunteered to make the perilous journey from that post to the commander-in-chief’s camp many miles beyond the Alum Bagh, in order to establish more complete correspondence between Sir James Outram and Sir Colin Campbell than was possible by the simple medium of a small note enclosed in a quill. Mr Cavanagh’s account of his hair-breadth run was afterwards published in the Blue-books; and as it affords a good idea of the state of Lucknow and its environs at the time, we will reprint it here:

‘While passing through the intrenchment of Lucknow, about ten o’clock A.M. on the 9th inst., I learned that a spy had come in from Cawnpore, and that he was going back in the night as far as the Alum Bagh with dispatches to his excellency, Sir Colin Campbell, the commander-in-chief, who, it was said, was approaching Lucknow with 5000 or 6000 men.

‘I sought out the spy, whose name is Kanoujee Lall, and who was in the court of the deputy-commissioner of Duriabad before the outbreak in Oude. He had taken letters from the intrenchment before, but I had never seen him till now. I found him intelligent, and imparted to him my desire to venture in disguise to the Alum Bagh in his company. He hesitated a great deal at acting as my guide, but made no attempt to exaggerate the dangers of the road. He merely urged that there was more chance of detection by our going together, and proposed that we should take different roads, and meet outside of the city, to which I objected. I left him to transact some business, my mind dwelling all the time on the means of accomplishing my object.

‘I had, some days previously, witnessed the preparation of plans which were being made by direction of Sir James Outram to assist the commander-in-chief in his march into Lucknow for the relief of the besieged, and it then occurred to me that some one with the requisite local knowledge ought to attempt to reach his excellency’s camp beyond or at the Alum Bagh. The news of Sir Colin Campbell’s advance revived the idea, and I made up my mind to go myself at two o’clock, after finishing the business I was engaged upon. I mentioned to Colonel R. Napier, chief of Sir James Outram’s staff, that I was willing to proceed through the enemy to the Alum Bagh, if the general thought my doing so would be of service to the commander-in-chief. He was surprised at the offer, and seemed to regard the enterprise as fraught with too much danger to be assented to; but he did me the favour of communicating the offer to Sir James Outram, because he considered that my zeal deserved to be brought to his notice.

‘Sir James did not encourage me to undertake the journey, declaring that he thought it so dangerous that he would not himself have asked any officer to attempt it. I, however, spoke so confidently of success, and treated the dangers so lightly, that he at last yielded, and did me the honour of adding, that if I succeeded in reaching the commander-in-chief, my knowledge would be a great help to him.

‘I secretly arranged for a disguise, so that my departure might not be known to my wife, as she was not well enough to bear the prospect of an eternal separation. When I left home, about seven o’clock in the evening, she thought I was gone on duty for the night to the mines; for I was working as an assistant field-engineer, by order of Sir James Outram.

‘By half-past seven o’clock my disguise was completed, and when I entered the room of Colonel Napier, no one in it recognised me. I was dressed as a budmash, or as an irregular soldier of the city, with sword and shield, native-made shoes, tight trousers, a yellow silk koortah over a tight-fitting white muslin shirt, a yellow-coloured chintz sheet thrown round my shoulders, a cream-coloured turban, and a white waistband or kumurbund. My face, down to the shoulders, and my hands, to the wrists, were coloured with lampblack, the cork used being dipped in oil to cause the colour to adhere a little. I could get nothing better. I had little confidence in the disguise of my features, and I trusted more to the darkness of the night; but Sir James Outram and his staff seemed satisfied. After being provided with a small double-barrelled pistol, and a pair of broad pyjamahs over the tight drawers, I proceeded with Kanoujee Lall to the right bank of the river Goomtee, running north of our intrenchment, accompanied by Captain Hardinge, of the irregular cavalry.

‘Here we undressed and quietly forded the river, which was only about four and a half feet deep, and about a hundred yards wide at this point. My courage failed me while in the water, and if my guide had been within reach, I should perhaps have pulled him back and abandoned the enterprise; but he waded quickly through the stream. Reaching the opposite bank, we went crouching up a ditch for three hundred yards, to a grove of low trees on the edge of a pond, where we stopped to dress. While we were here, a man came down to the pond to wash, and went away again without observing us.

‘My confidence now returned to me, and with my tulwar resting on my shoulder we advanced into the huts in front, where I accosted a matchlockman, who answered to my remark that the night was cold: “It is very cold—in fact, it is a cold night.” I passed him, adding that it would be colder by and by.

‘After going six or seven hundred yards further, we reached the iron bridge over the Goomtee, where we were stopped and called over by a native officer who was seated in an upper-storied house, and seemed to be in command of a cavalry picket, whose horses were near the place saddled. My guide advanced to the light, and I stayed a little back in the shade. After being told that we had come from Mundeon—our old cantonment, and then in the possession of the enemy—and that we were going into the city to our homes, he let us proceed. We continued on along the left bank of the river to the stone bridge, which is about eight or nine hundred yards from the iron bridge, passing unnoticed through a number of sepoys and matchlockmen, some of whom were escorting persons of rank in palanquins preceded by torches.

‘Recrossing the Goomtee by the stone bridge, we went by a sentry unobserved, who was closely questioning a dirtily dressed native, and into the chowk or principal street of the city of Lucknow, which was not illuminated as much as it used to be previous to the siege, nor was it so crowded. I jostled against several armed men in the street without being spoken to, and only met one guard of seven sepoys, who were amusing themselves with some women of pleasure.

‘When issuing from the city into the country, we were challenged by a chowkeedar, or watchman, who, without stopping us, merely asked who we were. The part of the city traversed that night by me seemed to have been deserted by at least a third of its inhabitants.

‘I was in great spirits when we reached the green fields, into which I had not been for five months. Everything around us smelt sweet, and a carrot I took from the roadside was the most delicious I had ever tasted. I gave vent to my feelings in a conversation with Kanoujee Lall, who joined in my admiration of the province of Oude, and lamentation that it was now in the hands of wretches whose misgovernment and rapacity were ruining it.

‘A further walk of a few miles was accomplished in high spirits. But there was trouble before us. We had taken the wrong road, and were now quite out of our way in the Dil Koosha Park, which was occupied by the enemy. I went within twenty yards of two guns to see what strength they were, and returned to the guide, who was in great alarm, and begged I would not distrust him because of the mistake, as it was caused by his anxiety to take me away from the pickets of the enemy. I bade him not to be frightened of me, for I was not annoyed, as such accidents were not unfrequent even when there was no danger to be avoided. It was now about midnight. We endeavoured to persuade a cultivator, who was watching his crop, to shew us the way for a short distance, but he urged old age and lameness; and another, whom I peremptorily told to come with us, ran off screaming, and alarmed the whole village. We next walked quickly away into the canal, running under the Char Bagh, in which I fell several times, owing to my shoes being wet and slippery and my feet sore. The shoes were hard and tight, and had rubbed the skin off my toes, and cut into the flesh above the heels.

‘In two hours more we were again in the right direction, two women in the village we passed having kindly helped us to find it. About two o’clock we reached an advanced picket of sepoys, who told us the way, after asking where we had come from, and whither we were going. I thought it safer to go up to the picket, than to try to pass them unobserved.

‘Kanoujee Lall now begged I would not press him to take me into the Alum Bagh, as he did not know the way in, and the enemy were strongly posted around the place. I was tired, and in pain from the shoes, and would therefore have preferred going into the Alum Bagh; but, as the guide feared attempting it, I desired him to go on to the camp of the commander-in-chief, which he said was near Bunnee (a village eighteen miles from Lucknow) upon the Cawnpore road. The moon had risen by this time, and we could see well ahead.

‘By three o’clock we arrived at a grove of mango-trees, situated on a plain, in which a man was singing at the top of his voice. I thought he was a villager, but he got alarmed on hearing us approach; and astonished us, too, by calling out a guard of twenty-five sepoys, all of whom asked questions. Kanoujee Lall here lost heart for the first time, and threw away the letter intrusted to him for Sir Colin Campbell. I kept mine safe in my turban. We satisfied the guard that we were poor men travelling to Umroula, a village two miles this side of the chief’s camp, to inform a friend of the death of his brother by a shot from the British intrenchment at Lucknow, and they told us the road. They appeared to be greatly relieved on discovering that it was not their terrible foe, who was only a few miles in advance of them. We went in the direction indicated by them, and after walking for half an hour we got into a jheel or swamp, which are numerous and large in Oude. We had to wade through it for two hours up to our waists in water, and through weeds; for before we found out that we were in a jheel, we had gone too far to recede. I was nearly exhausted on getting out of the water, having made great exertions to force our way through the weeds, and to prevent the colour being washed off my face. It was nearly gone from my hands.

‘I now rested for fifteen minutes, despite the remonstrances of the guide, and went forward, passing between two pickets of the enemy, who had no sentries thrown out. It was near four o’clock in the morning when I stopped at the corner of a tope or grove of trees to sleep for an hour, which Kanoujee Lall entreated I would not do; but I thought he overrated the danger, and, lying down, I told him to see if there was any one in the grove who would tell him where we then were.

‘We had not gone far when I heard the English challenge “Who comes there?” with a native accent. We had reached a British cavalry outpost: my eyes filled with joyful tears, and I shook the Sikh officer in charge of the picket heartily by the hand. The old soldier was as pleased as myself when he heard whence I had come; and he was good enough to send two of his men to conduct me to the camp of the advance-guard. An officer of her Majesty’s 9th Lancers, who was visiting his pickets, met me on the way, and took me to his tent, where I got dry stockings and trousers, and, what I much needed, a glass of brandy—a liquor I had not tasted for nearly two months.

‘I thanked God for having safely conducted me through this dangerous enterprise, and Kanoujee Lall for the courage and intelligence with which he had conducted himself during this trying night. When we were questioned, he let me speak as little as possible. He always had a ready answer, and I feel that I am indebted to him in a great measure more than to myself for my escape. It will give me great satisfaction to hear that he has been suitably rewarded.

‘In undertaking this enterprise, I was actuated by a sense of duty, believing that I could be of use to his excellency the commander-in-chief when approaching, for its relief, the besieged garrison, which had heroically resisted the attack of thirty times its own number for nearly five months, within a weak and irregular intrenchment; and, secondly, because I was anxious to perform some service which would insure to me the honour of wearing our Most Gracious Majesty’s Cross.

‘My reception by Sir Colin Campbell and his staff was cordial and kind to the utmost degree; and if I never have more than the remembrance of their condescension and of the heartfelt congratulation of Sir James Outram and of all the officers of his garrison on my safe return to them—I shall not repine, though to be sure having the Victoria Cross would make me a prouder and a happier man.

‘James Cavanagh.

‘Camp, Alum Bagh, Nov. 24.’