church, we afterwards heard, was first fired, then the Roman Catholic
chapel, our mess-house, and nineteen other bungalows. The sepoys, mostly
of the 45th Native Infantry, attended by dozens of _badmashes_, marched
unchallenged through the station with lighted torches fixed on long
bamboo poles, with which they set fire to the thatched roofs of the
various houses.

All night long we lay by our arms, watching the destruction of our
property, and thankful only that the wives and children of our officers
and men were safe under our care, and not exposed to the fury of the
wretches engaged in their fiendish work.

Even after this long lapse of years, I cannot think of that night
without a feeling of shame. Here were 700 men, mostly veterans, of one
of Her Majesty's regiments, doomed to inaction through the blundering
and stupid perverseness of an old sepoy Brigadier. The same unhappy
events as those I have narrated occurred at the outbreak of the Mutiny
in three other stations in the Bengal Presidency.

The commanders would not act against their trusted sepoys, who, as in
our case, plundered, outraged, and destroyed all and everything that
came in their way.

_May 14_.--The morning of May 14 dawned, close and hot, not a breath of
wind stirring. The sun rose like a ball of fire, and shortly afterwards
we were startled by an explosion which shook the earth under our feet,
and sounded like a heavy peal of thunder in the still morning air.
Looking in the direction of the report, we saw on the far right side
of the cantonment a thick black column of smoke shoot up high into the
atmosphere. A quarter of an hour passed, and then another detonation