The gallop across the Dilkusha park was quite a pretty sight:  deer, which had been quietly browsing, bounded away on all sides, frightened by our approach and the rattle of the guns; while the routed sepoys flew down the grassy slope leading to the Martiniere.  We reined up for a few seconds to look at the view which opened out before us.  In front rose the fluted masonry column of the Martiniere, 123 feet high; directly behind, the picturesque building itself, and in the distance the domes and minarets of the mosques and palaces within the city of Lucknow; all looked bright and fair in the morning sun.

We could see that the Martiniere was occupied; a crowd of sepoys were collected round the building; and as we showed ourselves on the brow of the hill, a number of round shot came tumbling in amongst us.

Remmington’s troop of Horse Artillery, Bourchier’s battery, and a heavy howitzer brought up by Captain Hardy, now came into action, and under cover of their fire the 8th Foot and 1st battalion of Detachments attacked and drove the enemy out of the Martiniere, while the Cavalry pursued them as far as the canal.

On this occasion my friend Watson greatly distinguished himself.  Entirely alone he attacked the enemy’s Cavalry, and was at once engaged with its leader and six of the front men; he fought gallantly, but the unequal contest could not have lasted much longer had not Probyn, who, with his own and Watson’s squadrons, was only about 300 yards off, become aware of his comrade’s critical position, and dashed to his assistance.  For this ‘and gallantry on many other occasions,’ Hope Grant recommended Watson for the Victoria Cross, which he duly received.[4]

By noon on the 14th we had occupied the Dilkusha and Martiniere, and placed our outposts along the right bank of the canal from the river to the point immediately opposite Banks’s house.  The left bank was held in force by the rebels.  Early in the afternoon I went with Hope Grant, accompanied by a small force of Cavalry, to ascertain whether it would be possible to ford the canal somewhere close to the river, and we succeeded in finding a place by which the whole force crossed two days later.  Our movements were fortunately not noticed by the enemy, whose attention was concentrated on the roads leading direct to the city from the Dilkusha and Martiniere, by which they expected our advance to be made.

Sir Colin, meanwhile, had fixed his Head-Quarters in the Martiniere, on the topmost pinnacle of which he caused a semaphore to be erected for communication with Outram.  From this post of vantage Kavanagh was able to point out to the Commander-in-Chief the different objects of most interest to him—­the positions taken up by the enemy; the group of buildings, of which the Chatta Manzil[5] was the most conspicuous, then occupied by the gallant troops led by Outram and Havelock, who, by overwhelming numbers alone, had been prevented from carrying their glorious enterprise to a successful issue; the Residency, where, thanks to Sir Henry Lawrence’s foresight and admirable arrangements, a handful of heroic Britons had been able to defy the hordes of disciplined soldiers and armed men who, for nearly three months, day and night, had never ceased to attack the position; and the Kaisarbagh, that pretentious, garish palace of the Kings of Oudh, the centre of every kind of evil and debauchery.