“The enemy having been reported in great force yesterday to the north of Delhi, our army took up a favourable defensive position, and a battle was fought with great honour to the British arms.  The Russians suffered enormous losses.  The approach of darkness preventing us from following up the advantages we had gained, I ordered the main body of the army to carry out a strategic retreat on Lucknow, chiefly along the railway.  Simpson’s brigade remained behind to defend Delhi.  The heavy guns of the Sha, Calcutta gate, and north gate bastions were very effective.  All arms distinguished themselves, and deserve the highest praise.  The bridge over the Jumna is intact and affords direct communication with General Simpson.”

While Mr. Kennedy was sitting pondering over this despatch, Heideck came up to him.

“A decisive defeat, isn’t it, Mr. Heideck?” said he.  “As a military man, you can read between the line, better than I can.  But I know Delhi.  If the Jumna bridge batteries have been firing, the Russians must be on the point of capturing this passage.  The north gate bastion is the head of the bridge.”

Heideck was obliged to agree; but he had read more in the despatch, and drew the worst conclusions from the general’s retreat on Lucknow.

No more despatches from the theatre of war were published during the day, since the Governor was desirous of concealing the melancholy state of affairs from the people.  But Mr. Kennedy, who had been in Government House, knew more.  He told Heideck that the English army had fled in complete disorder, having lost 8,000 killed and wounded, twenty guns, and a number of colours and standards.  The Government had already abandoned all hope of saving Delhi, for General Simpson could not possibly hold it.  “We have lost India,” sorrowfully concluded Mr. Kennedy.  “It is the grave of my last hopes.”

. . . . . . .

The Caledonia was moored in Victoria Dock, which formed part of the magnificent harbour on the east coast of the peninsula.  In the midst of a seething crowd the passengers were making their way on board.  Many wounded and sick officers and soldiers were returning on the fast steamer to England, and filled the places intended for passengers.  No travellers to Europe on business or pleasure were to be seen.  All the women on board belonged to the families of the military.  The general feeling was one of extreme melancholy.

Before embarking Heideck had discharged his faithful servant.  Morar Gopal, with tears in his eyes, had begged him to take him with him, but Heideck was afraid that the European climate would be the death of the poor fellow.  Besides, he would have been obliged to part with him on active service.  So he gave him a hundred rupees—­a fortune for Morar Gopal.

The great steamer moved slowly out of the basin of the harbour, past English merchantmen and the white ships of war, which had brought troops and war material.