In the City of Gold and Silver (19 page)

“I sent troops to support Kanpur, where General Wheeler is under siege, but en route the soldiers killed their officers and joined the mutineers. Wheeler is begging me to send more reinforcements; it is with a heavy heart that I have had to refuse, as we are expecting an attack here any day now and we are only a few hundred fighters.

“Please, send troops to save Kanpur as soon as you can, they will not be able to hold out for much longer.”*

 

I
ndeed, the situation in Kanpur is alarming.

Since the beginning of the events in May, Sir Hugh Wheeler had realised it was not a mutiny, but a rebellion intent on overthrowing British power. In anticipation of an attack, he had two brick buildings at the centre of the garrison fortified. A trench was dug and a three-metre high wall erected around it; the whole structure was defended by ten cannons. A quasi-symbolic defence that Azimullah, Nana's right-hand man, had ironically nicknamed “the fortress of despair.”* Although Kanpur was one of the most important garrisons in India, oddly enough, it had only three hundred European soldiers for three thousand sepoys. Sir Hugh was not particularly worried, however, convinced that, as in Meerut and Sitapur, the mutineers would set off for Delhi once they had burned and pillaged the bungalows.

Sir Hugh had joined a sepoy regiment at the age of sixteen and has served in India for fifty-two years. A small-built man with twinkling eyes, he is one of the older generation of officers who speaks fluent Hindustani and is a great admirer of the local culture. He even married a young girl of mixed Irish and Indian race, and they had six children. He loves his men, who, in return, are unstintingly devoted to him. Nonetheless, he is fully aware of the deep discontent British policy has aroused over these last years. He alerted the authorities several times, but they did not respond. Now he knows the time for revenge has come. His confidence is not shaken though: his sepoys will never attack him or his entourage.

On May 21st, General Wheeler learns that the 2nd Cavalry Regiment will engage in a mutiny during the night. He has the women and children moved into the fortified camp and gives orders that the treasure be transported there as well. However, the sepoys responsible for guarding it profess their undying loyalty and refuse to hand it over. The atmosphere is electric.If he insists, Wheeler knows he may provoke a confrontation, but can he really leave eight hundred thousand gold rupees accessible to the mutineers? It is the faithful Nana Sahib who provides a solution by offering to send two cannons and three hundred of his Mahratta warriors as reinforcements to guard the gold. Sir Hugh hesitates, but he lets himself be convinced, remembering the numerous occasions when the Nana had done him favours and how, just recently, he had offered to place fifteen hundred men at his disposal to help reconquer Delhi.

It is Azimullah who serves as the go-between.

“Would you believe it, they actually agreed!”

On his return to Nana Sahib's, Azimullah cannot contain his hilarity.

“I will never understand these English! They think nothing of stripping you of your titles and your inheritance, and yet swallow all your claims of friendship, as if it were perfectly natural that all you think about is helping them. Do they not realise that you hate them for what they have done?”

“Oh, but I do not hate them!”

“Because you are too kind and too noble, Your Highness. But you are not the only one they have robbed. They ruined the taluqdars and, in fact, the whole country by forcibly banning our crafts in order to force us to buy their industrial products at very high prices. And to top it all, they crush us with their contempt!”

“Personally, I have always had a good relationship with them.”

“On the condition that you respect the distance between them, the whites, and us, the blacks! Have you already forgotten the previous resident's outrage when you dared asked for his daughter's hand in marriage, although he used to claim he was your best friend? He turned his back on you and never spoke to you again.”

Nana Sahib's face flushes crimson. He shoots a venomous look at Azimullah. How dare he bring up such a humiliation! It looks as if he enjoys reopening the wound and stirring up hatred.

 

But the announcement of the cavalry uprising turns out to be a false alarm, and most of the officers return to sleep amongst their men as a way of showing them their trust.

As for Nana Sahib, in true Mahratta style, he plays both sides of the fence. On June 1st, accompanied by his tall, skinny brother, Bala Rao, an angry individual who hates the whole world, the Nana attends a secret meeting on a boat with the sepoys' cavalry leaders, and lets them understand he is a supporter of the rebellion. Then, when Sir Hugh—informed of this meeting—confronts him and expresses his astonishment, Nana Sahib explains that his intentions were simply to calm the sepoys down and bring them back to their senses.

Nonetheless, the news of the Lucknow garrison uprising and the British troops' progress towards Delhi has dissipated any illusion that a conflict could be avoided. As the cavalry grows more and more restless, the courage and diplomacy the officers show their men cannot avert the danger indefinitely.

During the night of June 4th, gunshots ring out. A messenger arrives a few minutes later announcing that, in cahoots with the cavalry, Nana Sahib's troops have seized the treasure.

For Wheeler, this is the first sign of his friend's betrayal.

Soon the 1st Infantry Regiment joins the cavalry. Although they ignore their officers' reprimands, the sepoys have no intention of harming them. Just as in Meerut and Delhi, the rebels' first initiative is to release all the prisoners. This marks the beginning of a night of pillaging and arson, punctuated by cries of victory. The Europeans, who have taken refuge inside the fort, follow the events fearfully.

At dawn, the Indian officers of the 53rd and the 56th advise Wheeler they can no longer rely on their men. The general then asks the veterans—soldiers he has known for a long time—to remain at his side.

“Impossible, Sahib,” replies an old sepoy sadly, “Europeans and natives can no longer stay together. We fought for you, we shed our blood for you and in return, you used your cannons to pulverise our brothers. You and your people must leave as quickly as possible, Sahib. You have been like a father and mother to us, we will cover your flight, but we can no longer stand by you.”

Meanwhile, the sepoys have reached Bithur Palace, ten miles from Kanpur. They clamour to see Nana Sahib.

Woken by Azimullah, the Nana cannot make up his mind. Things are not going as planned: their strategy had been a general revolt that was to take the British by surprise and force them to leave. Now, the soldiers' impatience has ruined the project, and the British high command in Calcutta has already begun to send reinforcements. If he joins this rebellion, which in all likelihood will be suppressed, he will lose everything, maybe even his life. If, on the other hand, he is seen to be supportive of the British . . .

But the sepoys leave him no choice—they need a legitimate leader. Either Nana Sahib agrees to lead the movement and they recognise him as the sovereign, or they kill him.

“How can you imagine I support the British?” exclaims the Nana, his hand on his heart, under Azimullah's ironic gaze. “Let us bury the treasure in a safe place and head for Delhi to join our emperor, Bahadur Shah Zafar!”

Nana Sahib retires to his apartments to the troops' standing ovation. However, Azimullah does not take the same view. How will they chase out the occupiers if, instead of crushing them now while they are weak, they give the British a free hand and the time to gather reinforcements? He will spend hours trying to persuade his master to attack the Kanpur garrison in order to establish his authority there:

“In Delhi, you will only be one amongst dozens of princes. You will be powerless, whereas here, you are the absolute ruler. The men revere you.”

Vanity winning out over fear, the Nana finally allows himself to be convinced.

It will take even longer to persuade the sepoys, who have no desire to fight their officers. Ultimately, the fear of the whites' terrible vengeance and the promise of gold coins overcome their hesitations. They are also assured that once Kanpur is freed, they will march to Delhi, the glorious capital of the great Mughals, from where the movement to recapture the whole of India is to begin.

At dawn on June 6th, convinced the sepoys are on their way to Delhi, General Wheeler receives an unexpected message, a very courteous letter from Nana Sahib informing him that his troops will attack at 10
A.M.
A last qualm towards his friend, combined with chivalrous morality that prohibits surprise attacks, has influenced this decision, which the prince has carefully kept secret from his partners. It gives Wheeler the time to recall all his officers and to bring the Anglo-Indian population into the camp—in all, a thousand people, half of them women and children.

The siege will last three weeks, during which the camp is heavily bombarded. The British respond as best they can but have to use their ammunition sparingly. Each day brings new victims. The heat is dreadful and they are short of water, so they have to risk their lives to go to the only well. The camp is so poorly protected by an adobe wall that some of the besieged prisoners are even killed inside their rooms. The place resonates with moans of the injured, tormented by hundreds of flies, and is pervaded by the unbearable stench of corpses.

By the end of the week, Wheeler realises they cannot hold out much longer. He sends the Nana a message, requesting him to allow them to leave for Calcutta. Despite his betrayal, he still has some faith in this prince, who was once a friend.

In the Nana's opinion, it would be the best solution, but he cannot take the decision alone. He has to consult the rebel officers, his brother Bala Rao, nicknamed “the Cruel,” and his secretary Azimullah. For once, the latter loses his legendary composure:

“Spare the English while they are massacring our women and children everywhere! You cannot be serious! Is the blood of the whites worth more than ours? Is a blond child worth ten, a hundred of our children?” he chokes with rage.

His words are met with a roar of approval. For some time now, large numbers of refugees have been pouring in from villages around Benares and Allahabad, where the revolt has been brutally suppressed. Petrified, they tell of the houses and fields burned, the rapes and mutilations. Major Renaud and Colonel Neill's troops had hanged thousands of peasants—adolescents to old men—from trees all along the road. Now they are advancing towards Kanpur, destroying everything along the way.

The British consider this ferocity just retribution for the killing of civilians in Delhi and Meerut—white men and women killed . . . by the natives! Slaves who dare raise a hand against their masters! That is what is really scandalous! There is no greater crime than that of abolishing a natural hierarchy, where everyone has their designated place. This rebellion is sacrilegious, for it contests the “good” order of things: a world where the white man is, in all evidence and for all eternity, superior to the black or dark-skinned races, particularly if they are not Christian!

The battles continue for days. The small garrison counters the sepoys' attacks with a resistance born of despair. On June 23rd, the anniversary of the Battle of Plassey, they manage to repel a particularly harsh attack, but when a shell destroys the building where the medicines and supplies are stored, Sir Hugh Wheeler submits to the inevitable, and he sends the Nana another message.

The latter shuts himself away with his brother, his advisor Azimullah and his most important general, Tantia Tope, to discuss what should be done. After a lengthy, private discussion, they decide to send an Anglo-Indian hostage, Mrs. Jacobi, with a letter signed by Nana Sahib, ceremoniously addressed:

 

“To the subjects of Her Very Gracious Majesty Queen Victoria,

 

“All those who played no part in the crimes against Indians and who are ready to surrender, will be given safe passage as far as the town of Allahabad.”*

 

Sir Wheeler hesitates: can the very man who betrayed them so cleverly be trusted? His officers remind him again that they only have three days' supplies left, and that the women and children will all perish. On their insistence, he gives in.

The practical details are to be discussed on neutral territory. A meeting takes place between two British officers, pale and gaunt, and the Nana's representatives: Tantia Tope, the Mahratta general—a massive dark-skinned man who always wears a white turban and is reputed to be a brilliant strategist—and the elegant Azimullah Khan. Nana Sahib promises he will provide the British with a flotilla of boats and oarsmen to transport them safely to Allahabad, the strategically located town at the confluence of the Ganges and the Yamuna. In exchange, they must abandon their cannons, rifles and ammunition. After long negotiations, they are allowed to keep their revolvers.

On June 26th, an armistice is declared. Overcome by delayed compassion, Nana Sahib has sixteen elephants, eighty palanquins and several bullock carts sent to transport the women, children and wounded as far as the riverbank, where large boats are waiting for them.

On the morning of the 27th, everyone squeezes themselves as best they can into the overloaded craft under the inscrutable gaze of the soldiers who have escorted them there. Despite the oppressive heat, a few notables sitting in the shade of a small Hindu temple overlooking the Satichaura Ghat watch the operations closely. Azimullah Khan, Tantia Tope and Nana's brother are clearly visible, but the prince himself is absent.

At 9
A.M.
, seated in the first boat, Sir Hugh Wheeler gives the signal for departure. His craft has barely begun to advance however, when, at a gesture from Tantia Tope, the oarsmen throw live embers onto the thatched roofs of the boats, then jump overboard. As the boats burst into flames, hundreds of sepoys emerge from their cover on the riverbank and begin to open fire. From the opposite shore, two cannons bombard the fragile flotilla. There is complete panic. Some men shoot back to gain a few futile minutes, while in a desperate attempt to flee, most of the terrified women, children and wounded jump overboard. The few who escape the bullets and make it to the shores are cut down by the swords of the Mahratta cavalry.