CHAPTER I.

In the spring of 1857.

All through India, with its fanatical population five times as great as that of England, the rumblings of the coming uprising had been heard for months.  The disaffection had been spreading and taking root.  The emissaries of the arch-plotters had passed back and forth almost from end to end of the vast empire, with their messages of hatred and appeal.  The people were assured that the “Inglese loge” were perfecting their insidious schemes for overthrowing their religion, and the faithful everywhere were called upon to crush the infidels in the dust.  The evil seed fell upon the rankest of soil, and grew with a vigor and exuberance that threatened to strangle every other growth.

The plot, as agreed upon, was that a general uprising was to take place throughout India on the last day of May, 1857, but, as is often the case in such far-reaching schemes, the impatience of the mutineers precipitated the tremendous tragedy.

The first serious outbreak took place at Meerut on Sunday, May 10th, just three weeks previous to the time set for the general uprising.  That town, with its population of about 40,000 at that time, lies thirty-two miles northeast from Delhi, which was to be the capital of the resurrected Mogul Empire.  It was the precipitancy of this first revolt that prevented its fullest success.  The intention was to kill every white man, woman and child in the place.  Two regiments were clamorous for beginning the massacre, but the Eleventh Native Infantry held back so persistently that the others became enraged and fired a volley among them, killing a number.  Thereupon the Eleventh announced themselves ready to take their part in the slaughter that was to free India from the execrated “Inglese loge.”

Seeing now for the first time the real peril, the colonel of the Eleventh made an impassioned appeal to the regiment to stand by its colors and to take no part in the useless revolt.  While he was speaking, a volley riddled his body, and he tumbled lifeless from his saddle.  The Eleventh, however, covered the flight of the other officers, but helped to release a thousand prisoners, suffering punishment for various offenses, and then the hell fire burst forth.

The bungalows of the officers, the mess houses of the troops, and all the buildings between the native lines and Meerut were fired, and the whole became a roaring conflagration, whose glare at night was visible for miles.

When an appeal was made to the Emperor of Delhi by the troopers, he inquired their errand.  The lacklustre eyes flashed with a light that had not been seen in them for years, the bowed form acquired new energy, and he gave orders to admit the troopers.

Their message was enough to fan into life the slumbering fires of ambition in the breast of a dying person.