On the 21st October we reached Bewar, the junction of the roads from Meerut, Agra, Fatehgarh, and Cawnpore, at which point the Brigadier received a communication from Sir James Outram, written in Greek character, from the Lucknow Residency, begging that aid might be sent as soon as possible, as provisions were running short.[1] The note was rolled up inside a quill, which the Native messenger had cunningly concealed in the heart of his thick walking-stick.  Outram’s urgent summons determined the Brigadier to push on.  So the next day we made a march of twenty-eight miles to Goorsahaigunj, and on the 23rd we reached Miran-ki-Serai, close to the ruined Hindu city of Kanoj.

The same day I went on as usual with a small escort to reconnoitre, and had passed through the town, when I was fired upon by a party of the rebels, consisting of some 300 Cavalry, 500 Infantry, and four guns, who, having heard of the approach of the column, were trying to get away before it arrived.  Their Cavalry and Infantry were on the opposite bank of a fairly wide stream, called the Kali Naddi, through which were being dragged some heavy pieces of cannon.  I retired a short distance, and sent back word to the advance guard, which hastened to my assistance.  A few rounds from our Artillery caused the enemy to abandon their guns, the Infantry dispersed and disappeared, the Cavalry fled, and we, crossing the stream, had a smart gallop after them for about four miles over a fine grassy plain.  On we flew, Probyn’s and Watson’s squadrons leading the way in parallel lines, about a mile apart.  I was with the latter, and we had a running fight till we reached the Ganges, into which plunged those of the sowars whom we had not been able to overtake; we reined up, and saw the unlucky fugitives struggling in the water, men and horses rolling over each other; they were gradually carried down by the swiftly running stream, and but a very few reached the opposite bank.

Our casualties were trifling, only some half-dozen men wounded, while my horse got a gash on his quarter from a sabre.  Watson had the forefinger of his right hand badly cut in an encounter with a young sowar; I chaffed him at allowing himself to be nearly cut down by a mere boy, upon which he laughingly retorted:  ’Well, boy or not, he was bigger than you.’

It was on this occasion that I first recognized the advantage of having the carbine slung on the trooper’s back while in action, instead of being carried in the bucket, as is the custom with our British Cavalry.  Several of the enemy’s loose horses were going about with carbines on their saddles, while their dismounted riders were at an enormous disadvantage in trying to defend themselves from their mounted adversaries with only their swords.  I saw, too, one of Watson’s men saved from a fierce cut across the spine by having his carbine on his back.  More recent experience has quite satisfied me that this is the only way this weapon should be carried when actual fighting is going on.