I must now relate, as it shows that, notwithstanding the state of
dejection to which we had been reduced, there still lurked a spirit of
fun and mischief among the officers.

For some time after the revolt we had "night-attacks" on the brain.
Nothing was spoken of but the chance of our lines being assaulted by
wandering bodies of mutinous sepoys. The order-book each evening,
reminding us of the danger, inculcated strict vigilance on picket and
on guard. So long did this last without any attack being made that the
shadowy expectation of what never occurred became our bugbear, a chimera
which haunted us night and day.

At last, in a happy hour, it entered into the mind of one of our young
Lieutenants, an Irishman, imbued with the spirit of fun, and the
jolliest fellow in the regiment, that this illusion under which we were
all labouring might be made the subject for a frolic.

He communicated his ideas to myself and some others of the junior
officers, and it was then and there decided that, as the sepoys would
not attack us, we would create a little excitement and diversion by
playing for the nonce the role of mutineers.

The council of war then agreed unanimously that an assault was to be
made on the remaining officers when asleep outside the barracks, and
that the weapons to be used should be bolsters and pillows.

A certain night was fixed on for the accomplishment of our purpose, and
the signal for the attack was to be given by the originator of the plot,
who would take upon himself to make sure that the enemy were off their
guard, wrapped in the arms of Morpheus.