During the absence of Nicholson’s small force the enemy had attacked all the pickets, and kept up a heavy cannonade from the walls, causing us a loss of thirty-five men.  It was their impression that the camp had been left almost bare and defenceless by the withdrawal of so large a force; but they were quickly undeceived, and were met at each point of assault by a galling fire from our men.

For many nights after August 26 our right pickets were constantly harassed by the rebels, who also shelled Hindoo Rao’s house from the city and Kishenganj batteries.  Our sappers, too, found it not only difficult, but dangerous, to work in the advanced trenches below the ridge, being always met by a murderous musketry from the enemy’s sharpshooters, who fired down behind breastworks.  It was resolved, therefore, on August 30, to drive them out from their cover, and on two or more occasions this was performed by the Goorkhas and the 60th Rifles, who, as usual, fighting together and supporting each other, took the breastworks in gallant style.  Our Engineers were then enabled to continue their operations in the trenches preparatory to making approaches towards the city walls, and constructing the batteries for the siege-train, now daily expected.

The Flagstaff Tower, as I have already mentioned in a former part of my narrative, was the chief rendezvous of officers when not on duty.  About this time I went to the top of the tower in company with one of my regiment, when an amusing incident occurred.

We were watching the batteries playing on each side, when a tall Afghan, armed to the teeth, appeared at the top of the steps, and was about to set foot on the enclosed space under the flagstaff.  A sentry was always stationed there, and on this occasion it happened to be a sturdy little Goorkha, one of the Kumaon battalion.  On the approach of the Afghan he immediately came to the charge, and warned him that none but European officers were allowed on the top of the tower.  The Afghan laughed, and then, looking with contempt at the diminutive sentry, a dwarf in comparison with himself, he attempted to push aside the bayonet.  Losing all patience, the Goorkha at this threw down his musket, and drawing his kukri, the favourite weapon of his race, he rushed at the Afghan with up-lifted blade.  This was too much for our valiant hero, who quickly turned tail, and disappeared down the circular staircase, the Goorkha following him at a short distance.  On his return he picked up the musket, and seeing us laughing, the frown on his face turned into the most ludicrous expression of good-humour I had ever seen, and he burst out into a fit of laughter which lasted some minutes.  He told us that he and the other Goorkhas of his regiment thought nothing of the bravery of the Afghan soldiers, some 100 of whom were on our side at Delhi; and he spoke truly.

These men, all cavalry, superbly mounted, dressed in chain armour, and carrying arms of every description, had been sent down ostensibly as a reinforcement to us by their Ameer, Dost Mohammed Khan of Kabul, but really as spies to watch our movements, and report the state of affairs to their chief.  They made a great display about the camp, but I never heard of their meeting the enemy in action during their stay before Delhi.