It was the custom before the Mutiny for our soldiers to attend Divine Service unarmed, save with their side-arms.  The Native soldiers were aware of this, and they no doubt calculated on the 60th Rifles being safe and almost defenceless inside the church as soon as the bells ceased tolling.  What they were not aware of was the fact that, owing to the lengthening days and the increasing heat, the evening church parade had been ordered half an hour later than on the previous Sunday.  The mutineers therefore showed their hand half an hour too soon, and as they galloped down the 60th Rifles lines they came upon the men fully armed and rapidly falling in.  Being thus disappointed in their hope of surprising the white soldiers, the 3rd Cavalry proceeded without a moment’s delay to the gaol, broke into the cells, and released their eighty-five comrades and all the other prisoners, about 1,200 in number.

While this was going on, the two Native Infantry regiments assembled on their respective parade-grounds in wild excitement, discharging their muskets at random, and setting fire to their own huts.  The British officers, hearing the tumult, hastened to their lines and did their best to restore order, but in vain.  The sepoys had gone too far, and were absolutely deaf to threats and entreaties.  They did not attack their own officers, but warned them to get away, telling them the Company’s ’raj’[4] was at an end.  Their clemency, however, did not extend to officers of other regiments.

Colonel Finnis, who had served forty years with the sepoys, and firmly believed in their loyalty, was the first victim; he fell riddled with bullets from a volley fired by the 20th, while exhorting the men of his own regiment (the 11th) to be true to their salt.  The work of destruction then began in earnest, in which the population from the bazaars and the neighbouring villages eagerly joined, for (as the Commissioner reported) they were armed and ready for the onslaught before the sepoys commenced the attack, plainly showing how perfectly they were aware of what was about to happen.  They poured forth in thousands from every direction, and in a surprisingly short time almost every bungalow belonging to a British officer serving with Native troops was gutted and burnt.  Besides Colonel Finnis, seven officers, three officers’ wives, two children, and every stray European man, woman and child in the outskirts of the cantonments were massacred.

It was now time for the sepoys to think of themselves.  They had thrown off all allegiance to the Sarkar;[5] they had been guilty of murder, robbery, and incendiarism, and they knew that retribution must speedily overtake them if they remained at Meerut; they therefore lost no time in making their escape towards Delhi.  They had had ample opportunity for consultation with the Native officers from that station, who had come to Meerut as members of the Court-Martial on the men of the 3rd Light Cavalry, and they knew perfectly well that the troops at Delhi were prepared to help them to seize the magazine and resuscitate the old Moghul dynasty.  ‘To Delhi!  To Delhi!’ was their cry, and off they went, leaving naught behind them in their lines but the smouldering fires of their officers’ houses and the lifeless bodies of their English victims.