The refugees from the fort, tired of their long imprisonment, had taken advantage of the security which they thought was assured by the arrival of the column to visit their deserted homes.  Two-thirds of the 150,000 inhabitants of the city had also flocked out to see the troops who had taken part in the capture of Delhi (the report of which achievement was still universally disbelieved), to watch our camp being pitched, and to see what was going on generally.  All this varied crowd, in terror at the first sound of firing, made for the fort and city, and were met in their flight by the heavy baggage of the column on its way to camp.  Instantly, elephants, camels, led horses, doolie-bearers carrying the sick and wounded, bullocks yoked to heavily-laden carts, all becoming panic-stricken, turned round and joined in the stampede.  Elephants, as terrified as their mahouts[7], shuffled along, screaming and trumpeting; drivers twisted the tails of their long-suffering bullocks with more than usual energy and heartlessness, in the vain hope of goading them into a gallop; and camels had their nostrils rent asunder by the men in charge of them, in their unsuccessful endeavours to urge their phlegmatic animals into something faster than their ordinary stately pace.

Into this surging multitude we rushed, but for a time our progress was completely checked.  Eventually, however, by dint of blows, threats, and shouts, we managed to force our way through the motley crowd and reach the scene of action.  What a sight was that we came upon!  I seem to see it now as distinctly as I did then.  Independent fights were going on all over the parade-ground.  Here, a couple of Cavalry soldiers were charging each other.  There, the game of bayonet versus sword was being carried on in real earnest.  Further on, a party of the enemy’s Cavalry were attacking one of Blunt’s guns (which they succeeded in carrying off a short distance).  Just in front, the 75th Foot (many of the men in their shirt-sleeves) were forming square to receive a body of the rebel horse.  A little to the left of the 75th, Remmington’s troop of Horse Artillery and Bourchier’s battery had opened fire from the park without waiting to put on their accoutrements, while the horses were being hastily harnessed by the Native drivers and saices.  Still further to the left, the 9th Lancers and Gough’s squadron of Hodson’s Horse were rapidly saddling and falling in.  On the right the 8th Foot and the 2nd and 4th Punjab Infantry were busy getting under arms, while beyond, the three squadrons of Punjab Cavalry, under Probyn and Younghusband, were hurrying to get on the enemy’s flank.

Watson galloped off to take command of the Punjab Cavalry, and Norman and I rode in different directions to search for the Brigadier.  While thus employed, I was stopped by a dismounted sowar, who danced about in front of me, waving his pagri[8] before the eyes of my horse with one hand, and brandishing his sword with the other.  I could not get the frightened animal near enough to use my sword, and my pistol (a Deane and Adams revolver), with which I tried to shoot my opponent, refused to go off, so I felt myself pretty well at his mercy, when, to my relief, I saw him fall, having been run through the body by a man of the 9th Lancers who had come to my rescue.