Suddenly, at four o’clock in the afternoon, a column of white smoke arose from the city, and an explosion was heard far and wide.  Willoughby and his eight associates had held out to the last, waiting and hoping for the coming of the Europeans.  They had closed and barricaded the gates of the magazine; and they had posted six-pounders at the gates, loaded with double charges of grape, and laid a train to the powder-magazine.  Messengers came in the name of Bahadur Shah to demand the surrender of the magazine, but no answer was returned.  The enemy approached and raised ladders against the walls; while the native establishment escaped over some sheds and joined the rebels.  At this crisis the guns opened fire.  Round after round of grape made fearful havoc on the mass of humanity that was heaving and surging round the gates.  At last the ammunition was exhausted.  No one could leave the guns to bring up more shot.  The mutineers were pouring in on all sides.  Lieutenant Willoughby gave the signal.  Conductor Scully fired the train; and with one tremendous upheaval the magazine was blown into the air, together with fifteen hundred rebels.  Not one of the gallant nine had expected to escape.  Willoughby and three others got away, scorched, maimed, bruised, and nearly insensible; but Scully and his comrades were never seen again.  Willoughby died of his injuries six weeks afterward, while India and Europe were ringing with his name.

Still more terrible and treacherous were the tragedies enacted at Cawnpore, a city situated on the Ganges about fifty-five miles to the southwest of Lucknow.  Cawnpore had been in the possession of the English ever since the beginning of the century, and for many years was one of the most important military stations in India; but the extension of the British Empire over the Punjab had diminished the importance of Cawnpore; and the last European regiment quartered there had been removed to the northwest at the close of the previous year.

In May, 1857, there were four native regiments at Cawnpore, numbering thirty-five hundred sepoys.  There were no Europeans whatever, excepting the regimental officers and sixty-one artillerymen.  To these were added small detachments of European soldiers, which had been sent in the hour of peril from Lucknow and Benares during the month of May.

The station of Cawnpore was commanded by Sir Hugh Wheeler, a distinguished general in the company’s service, who was verging on his seventieth year.  He had spent fifty-four years in India, and had served only with native troops.  He must have known the sepoys better than any other European in India.  He had led them against their own countrymen under Lord Lake; against foreigners during the Afghan War, and against Sikhs during both campaigns in the Punjab.

The news of the revolt at Meerut threw the sepoys into a ferment at every military station in Hindustan.  Rumors of mutiny or coming mutiny formed almost the only topic of conversation; yet in nearly every sepoy regiment the European officers put faith in their men, and fondly believed that, though the rest of the army might revolt, yet their own corps would prove faithful.