The Generals

Chapter 49

Throughout April the army pushed its siege lines forward, capturing the enemy positions on the western bank of the south Cauvery river. The tope was taken in daylight and most of the bodies of the 33rd’s grenadiers were recovered, but eight remained unaccounted for and Arthur feared that they must have been taken prisoner. Once the enemy outposts had been cleared from in front of Seringapatam’s walls General Harris gave orders for the construction of strongly fortified batteries for the heavy siege guns that Arthur had procured while the army assembled for the campaign. At a range of nine hundred yards the guns methodically knocked out the enemy cannon along the western wall of Seringapatam before turning to pound the corner bastions into rubble.Then on the second day of May the batteries were aimed at the point along the wall that General Harris had chosen to be breached. An intense bombardment followed over the next two days, until a wide section of the city’s wall had been smashed through and Harris was satisfied that an assault could be made over the rubble.

That night he assembled his senior officers and announced his plan of attack.‘It’s important that we take the city on the first attempt.The first of the monsoon rains might arrive in the next two weeks and the brinjarris tell me that their food supplies are starting to run down. So I have decided to throw as many men into the attack as can be spared from defending our camp.There will be three formations in the attacking force: two assault columns and a reserve. Major General Baird has volunteered to lead the assault. Given the antipathy between Tipoo’s men and our Madras sepoys I pray that we do not have to deploy them in the battle for Seringapatam. They will be held in reserve.’

‘Who is to command the reserve, sir?’ Arthur asked. He already knew that the 33rd had been selected for the assault force and was looking forward to leading them into the attack.

‘You are.’

‘Me?’ Arthur started and some of the other officers could not help smiling at his surprised expression.Arthur fought back a flush of irritation with himself. ‘But who is to lead my regiment, sir?’

‘Major Shee.’

‘Sir, if my regiment is to be part of the attack, then I should be with them.’

Harris shook his head. ‘I need a steady head to control the reserve column. As soon as the attack goes in, you are to march your column across the river and wait outside the breach. I’m trusting you to use your judgement as to whether Baird needs any support. Is that clear, Wellesley?’

There was little chance of altering the general’s mind at this stage and Arthur accepted his role in the coming battle with as much grace as he could muster.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Very well then, gentlemen. The men will move forward in the trenches before dawn and keep out of sight until the signal to attack is given at midday. Make sure all your officers are thoroughly briefed on the attack, and try to get some sleep, if you can.’ Harris gave them a wry grin, and then gestured towards the tent flap. His officers rose from their chairs and filed out.

‘Wellesley?’

Arthur turned back. ‘Yes, sir?’

‘A word, if you please.’

Once the last of the other officers had quit the tent Harris spoke. ‘I have good reasons for assigning you to command the reserve.’

‘I’m sure you do, sir.’

Harris looked at him sharply. ‘Don’t try to be ironic, Colonel. It doesn’t become a senior officer in my army.’

‘No, sir.’

Harris sighed. ‘The fact of the matter is that I need an officer with sound judgement to command the reserve. The assault column is a different matter. Baird is a born fighter and he wants revenge for the years he spent chained in the dungeons of Seringapatam. Who better to command the attack?’

‘Baird’s the man right enough, sir. But why am I to be denied my place at the head of the 33rd?’

‘If the attack goes badly I’ll need you to retrieve the situation. And if the attack fails, then it is vital that a path is kept open through which Baird and his men can retreat. That is why you are the best man to command the reserve, just as Baird is the best man to lead the attack.’

Arthur’s heart was warmed by his superior’s praise. ‘I apologise, sir. I should not have questioned your orders.’

‘No. You shouldn’t. Besides, there is another reason for keeping you out of the assault column.’

‘Sir?’

‘You’ll find out soon enough, assuming that we defeat Tipoo tomorrow.’

The last men of the assault columns were in position shortly before dawn rose across the lush green landscape surrounding Seringapatam. They carried only their muskets and a haversack for their cartridges to ensure that they were not encumbered as they negotiated the rubble that sloped up to the breach. As soon as they were in place, their officers ordered them to sit down and stay still. The sun rose up out of the light haze that hung over the verdant landscape, but as soon as it was high enough for the warmth of its rays to be felt the temperature rose quickly.Within an hour the men in the trenches, huddled together, began to stew in the heat of the Indian day. Around them, in view of the enemy, the engineers began work on a new battery close to the river’s edge in an attempt to mislead Tipoo about the imminence of an attack. The siege guns continued a monotonous bombardment of a section of the wall some distance upriver of the breach, while a handful of sepoy pickets patrolled the banks of the south Cauvery to discourage any attempt by the enemy to probe the lines of General Harris’s army.

Just after eleven in the morning Arthur made his way forward. He found Baird with the men of the ‘forlorn hope’: a handful of volunteers led by a sergeant whose task it was to rush the breach and hold it long enough for the main column to advance through the gap. Baird had brought a jug of arrack with him and it was being passed around the men as Arthur squatted down beside the massive Scottish officer. Baird eyed him suspiciously as they exchanged a quick salute.

‘What can I do for you, young Wellesley?’

Arthur stiffened slightly at being addressed in this manner, but then held out his hand. ‘I came to wish you good luck, sir.’

‘Good luck, eh?’ Baird nodded, then took Arthur’s hand in his great fist and squeezed it firmly as he shook.‘That’s damn good of you. Thank you. Here, Sergeant Graham, give me that jug.’

‘I’ll not be Sergeant for much longer, sir!’ the man grinned as he handed the arrack back to his commander, and patted the standard resting across his knees. ‘It’s Lieutenant Graham, the moment I plant this in the breach.’

Baird smiled. ‘Och, you’ll be dead before you even make the breach, you bloody fool.’

The men of the forlorn hope laughed nervously and Baird passed the jug to Arthur. ‘Have a drink, Wellesley.’

Arthur was about to refuse. He was tired, he had a headache and the last thing he wanted was any drink to cloud his mind. Then he looked at the men sitting round him and watching his reaction. Most of them were as good as dead, he realised with a stab of pity. So he made himself smile, as he instinctively wiped the rim of the jug on his sleeve and raised it.

‘Your health, gentlemen!’ He nodded and then took a steady draught of the fiery liquid before lowering the jug and handing it back to Baird. The Scot gave him a hearty wink and took a gulp before passing the jug on. ‘I’ll try to save a few of Tipoo’s men for you, Wellesley.’

‘If you wouldn’t mind?’ Arthur grinned for a moment, then his expression became serious again. ‘Good luck then, sir.’

‘Aye.’ Baird was reflective for a brief moment. ‘We’ll need it sure enough.’

Arthur returned to his command post. Behind him, over four thousand men in the reserve column were crouched in the sweltering discomfort of the rear trenches. He pulled out his fob watch and dabbed his brow on the back of his sleeve. It was almost time. The siege guns continued their relentless pounding and all seemed quite still on the walls of Seringapatam. Only a handful of tiny figures were in view on the ramparts, keeping watch on the English forces.

As the hands of his watch closed together at noon there came the shrill call of a whistle and at once a wave of redcoats erupted from the forward trenches, as if they were bursting up from the very earth itself. The men of the forlorn hope dashed forward behind Sergeant Graham as he held the rippling standard aloft, then they surged across the shallow current of the south Cauvery and up the far bank, dripping and glistening as they sprinted towards the ragged gap in the city wall.

The main column had swiftly formed up in companies, and rippled forward across the river as the first of the defenders to appear on the walls began to fire on the attackers. Arthur saw Sergeant Graham clamber on to the highest point of the rubble piled in the breach. He thrust the standard down and beckoned to his men, and then lurched to one side and collapsed. The standard slowly began to topple, before one of the men of the forlorn hope snatched at it and held it up. Beyond the wall, Arthur glimpsed scores of men in flowing white tunics armed with muskets scrambling up to the crest of the debris, and a vicious and unequal struggle began.

Already, Baird and his first company were emerging from the river and surging up into the breach. Arthur caught a brief glimpse of the Scot, swinging his claymore, before he disappeared beyond the wall, closely followed by his men. Not a single enemy soldier still lived in the breach or on the ramparts immediately either side of it. Redcoats appeared on the battlements, fanning out to the left and right and charging into the dense ranks of the defenders who were only now spilling out of the bastions further along the wall. For an instant Arthur could not help but envy those who were storming the Tipoo’s defences.All the months of painstaking preparation, long marches across inhospitable country and the back-breaking labour of trench-digging would be forgotten amid the explosive exhilaration of being part of that wild attack.

Arthur stared towards the trenches.The last of Baird’s men had cleared the near bank and there was no chance now of confusing the columns. He cleared his throat and shouted the order. ‘The reserve will advance!’

Sergeants relayed the order and the sepoy battalions and the Swiss de Meuron regiment of mercenaries that fought for the Company clambered out, grateful to quit the fetid misery of the trenches. As soon as the reserve was formed up Arthur led them down to the river and they waded across, muskets held high as the slack water eddied about their waists. On the far bank they halted in front of the wall to await further orders while Arthur went ahead with his aide, Fitzroy, and the grenadier company from the Swiss regiment. The rubble was loose beneath their boots and Arthur had to use a hand on the masonry to steady himself as he made his way up into the breach. The crest and reverse slope were covered with bodies, mostly Tipoo’s men, taken with the bayonet or shot down at point-blank range. Sergeant Graham lay sprawled on his back, slack-jawed, staring lifelessly towards the heavens. Gunfire crackled on either side and Arthur could see distant figures fighting at close quarters for possession of the bastions and towers along the wall.Ahead of him the streets of Seringapatam were silent and still as its people took shelter in their homes and prayed to their gods for deliverance, or mercy.

The two men climbed the nearest steps on to the wall to gain a better view of the fighting. Away to the north, the action seemed concentrated around the water gate on the wall that looked out over the main channel of the Cauvery. In the other direction, Arthur could already see a swarm of redcoats surging towards the Mysore gate.

‘Looks like Tipoo’s men are on the run,’ Fitzroy said as he shaded his eyes, squinting in the same direction as Arthur.

‘It looks that way,’ Arthur conceded after a moment.‘In which case, we must take measures to ensure that the slaughter doesn’t get out of hand. Go down to the reserve and order the sepoys to stand down. They are not to be allowed to enter the city.’

Fitzroy raised his eyebrows.‘They’re not going to like that, sir. You know the rules of war. The place has been taken by assault. By rights they should have a free hand.’

‘That’s not going to happen,’ Arthur replied firmly. ‘Tipoo’s people had nothing to do with his decision to wage war on us. They are not going to share his fate.And I am certainly not going to throw them on the mercy of Madras sepoys. I want the de Meuron regiment drawn up in front of the breach. They are not to let any soldiers into the city. Clear?’

‘Yes, sir.’ Fitzroy saluted and climbed down from the wall to relay Arthur’s orders. Meanwhile Arthur stared out over the city. The sound of gunfire was already fading away, apart from occasional bursts as the attackers discovered a few remaining pockets of Tipoo’s men. Rising above the city was the palace and Arthur realised that if the ruler of Seringapatam could be found and persuaded to surrender, then the city might yet be spared the worst ravages of defeat. Otherwise, the marauding bands of redcoats would unerringly find their way to stores of drink and then, fuelled by arrack and the fire in their blood, they would carry murder, destruction and rape to every corner of the city.

As soon as Fitzroy returned they set off towards the palace, stepping round the bodies that lay behind the wall. When they turned into the avenue that led to the palace gates they saw several companies of redcoats waiting outside.

‘It’s the 33rd.’ Fitzroy pointed. ‘And over there - Major Shee.’

Arthur hurried across to Shee. ‘What news?’

Shee stiffened his back as he made his report.‘Enemy’s beaten, sir. Just winkling out the last few of ’em. There’s a few hundred still sheltering in the palace. General Baird has asked them to surrender.’

‘Baird? Where is he?’

‘Through there, sir.’ Shee nodded at the gate.

Arthur and Fitzroy made towards the arch and cautiously walked through into a large courtyard. Baird had his back to them, and was staring at the façade of the palace. Several of Tipoo’s men stared back warily from the palace entrance. More men stood at the windows of the building. At the sound of boots crunching on gravel Baird glanced back over his shoulder, and then turned to greet Arthur. There was no triumph in his expression, just weariness.

‘Ah, Wellesley, it’s all but over now. I’m just waiting for the killadar to send out word that he’s accepted my terms.’

‘Terms, sir?’ Arthur asked. ‘What terms?’

‘Surrender of the palace and the men sheltering there, including two of Tipoo’s sons. In exchange, the palace and all those in it will be placed under the protection of your regiment.’

‘What about Tipoo, sir? Where is he?’

‘The killadar claims he doesn’t know. The last time he saw Tipoo was over by the water gate.’

‘We have to find him, sir. If he escapes then he’ll continue the war from somewhere else. If he’s been killed we must find the body.’

‘I’m no fool, Wellesley. I know damn well what’s at stake.’

‘I apologise, sir. I meant no offence.’

‘Never mind. Anyway, here’s the fellow now.’

Arthur looked up and saw a thin man emerge from the shadows behind the main entrance, walking swiftly down the steps towards them. He bowed his head formally as he stood in front of Baird and spoke, in good English. ‘The killadar accepts your conditions, and your word as a pukka sahib that no harm will come of the household if we lay down our arms.’

‘Those were the terms offered, and I stand by them, with these officers as witnesses.’

‘There is one other thing,’ Arthur interrupted. ‘You must take us to the body of Tipoo, or at least to the last place he was seen.’

‘As you wish, sahib.’

‘Very well,’ Baird growled at the palace official. ‘Those are the final terms. Take ’em or leave ’em.’

‘We accept, sahib. I will tell my master.’

‘I want everyone in the palace brought out here,’ Baird ordered.‘They are to leave their weapons - all of them, mind you - stacked in the hall over there.’

‘Yes, sahib.’ The native bowed and trotted back towards the palace.

Baird turned to Arthur. ‘Bring your men in. They can guard the prisoners and take up position in and around the palace.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Shortly afterwards, as the redcoats stood waiting, the first of the enemy came out of the palace and cautiously made their way across the courtyard towards the men of the 33rd, to be herded together in one corner of the courtyard. A steady stream of warriors emerged, and then the Tipoo’s sons and scores of his wives. When the killadar appeared Arthur approached him to ask if any of his men had been taken prisoner during the night attack on the tope early on in the siege. The killadar had been held hostage by the company, in the days of Cornwallis, and spoke some broken English.

‘We show you,’ he replied nervously. ‘Prisoners? Please come.’

‘Show us?’ Arthur muttered. ‘Show us what?’

‘You must see. Come!’The killadar started towards the door to a smaller courtyard to one side of the palace. ‘This way!’

‘What’s over there, I wonder?’ Fitzroy asked suspiciously.

‘The dungeons,’ Baird replied quietly. ‘Where they held me for over three years.’

Baird summoned several men to accompany them. The party followed the killadar cautiously and once through the door they found that they were in what looked to be some kind of training ground. To one side a flight of steps descended to two rows of barred cells. At the far end was a pit. Fitzroy leaned closer to Arthur. ‘What do you think he means to show us?’

‘How should I know? Anyway, we’ll find out soon enough.’

The killadar led them across the courtyard and down the steps. As they made their way between the cells Arthur saw that the gates were open and the cells were empty. Except for the last one. As they approached four enormous figures emerged from it and bowed to the allied officers

‘Who the hell are they?’ Arthur said in a strained tone. The men were all superbly muscled and looked as if they could break a man’s neck with their bare hands.

‘Jettis,’ Baird explained quietly. ‘Strong men. They performed tricks and feats of strength for Tipoo and his father.’

‘What kind of tricks?’ Fitzroy asked with a trace of anxiety.

‘I’ve seen them twist a man’s head right round. And worse.’

The killadar was standing close to the edge of the pit and beckoned to them. As they drew closer Arthur caught a glimpse of an animal’s skin as it prowled round the far side of the pit: a tawny yellow with darker stripes.

‘Tigers! It’s a tiger pit.’

They approached the rim of the pit carefully. Three huge tigers were sitting chewing on what looked like the remains of a man. Arthur felt sick.Then the full scale of the horror hit him as he reached the edge of the pit and stared down. There were perhaps a dozen mauled bodies scattered across the floor. The tattered remains of their red uniform jackets was proof enough of who they were. The men who had accompanied the three English officers began to mutter angrily at the sight.

‘Prisoners,’ Arthur realised. ‘The men we lost in the tope.’

‘What have they done to them?’ Fitzroy asked quietly.

Arthur looked more closely and saw that most of the necks of the dead were twisted round at horrible angles. Some of them had what looked like huge nails sticking out of the top of their skulls. He stared at the bodies a moment, as nausea welled up in his stomach. Then he glanced at the jettis again. Surely not, he thought. God, please not that.

Baird had been watching his expression and read his thoughts precisely. ‘That’s right, Wellesley. These men did it. Beat the nails into the skulls of our men with their bare hands, while our men still lived. I know, I saw them do it when I was a prisoner here. Indeed, I lived with the thought that they would do that to me one day.’ Baird looked pale as he spoke.

‘Bastards . . .’ one of the soldiers growled as he stared on the bodies of his comrades. Suddenly he swung round, lowered his bayonet and drove it into the stomach of one of the jettis. The man doubled over with a deep explosive groan under the impact.

While the officers watched, too shocked to react, the soldier withdrew the weapon, reversed it and swung the butt against the jetti’s head, then kicked the man over the edge of the pit. He landed with a thud and a crack as his arm broke under the weight of his muscled body. At his cry one of the tigers roused itself and padded cautiously towards him, and despite the pain from his wounds the man screamed in terror.

The soldier turned to his comrades. ‘Finish them all, lads! Kill these bloody butchers. All of them.’ He turned and pointed at the killadar.

‘No!’ Arthur bellowed and drew his sword, hurriedly stepping between his men and the killadar. ‘Stand still, damn you! Stand still, I said.’

For a moment there was a tense confrontation and then the soldier lowered his musket and grounded it.The others followed his lead and stood waiting for orders.There was a piercing shriek of pain from the pit, and then some more, and growls, before the man was silenced with a powerful snap of a tiger’s jaws. One of the surviving jettis dropped to his knees and began to beg, huge glistening tears pricking out of his eyes as he wailed for mercy.

‘You’d better go and find Tipoo’s body.’ Baird spoke calmly. ‘That oily-looking bastard of a bureaucrat can identify him. I’ll take care of the situation here.’

Arthur looked at him suspiciously.‘What are you going to do, sir?’

‘The jettis will be executed. We’ll have to shoot the tigers to get at the remains of our men for burial. I’ll attend to it.You go and find Tipoo.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Arthur gestured to the entrance to the courtyard and told the killadar to lead him to the last place Tipoo had been seen. As they left the courtyard Arthur looked back once. Baird stood off to one side, simply watching, as the men dragged the first of the jettis over to the edge of the pit and thrust him over the edge.

‘You saw what they did to our men,’ Fitzroy said through clenched teeth. ‘They deserve what’s coming to them.’

‘No man deserves that,’Arthur said firmly, and gently eased his friend out of the courtyard. They followed the killadar along a wide thoroughfare that led to the water gate. A company of the 73rd Foot had been left to hold the position and they roused themselves as the officers and the native approached. It was clear that some of the fiercest fighting of the day had taken place here. Bodies of English and native warriors were sprawled across the terreplein and the mouth of the passage that ran through the gate was piled high with dead and wounded, some still struggling weakly as they moaned. A lieutenant was leading the company and he saluted as Arthur stopped in front of the gate and surveyed the scene.

‘Looks like a hard fight, Lieutenant.’

‘Aye, that it was, sir. They made a final stand in the passage there, and fought to the last. Brave lads they were.’

Arthur turned to the killadar. ‘Was this the place?’

‘Yes, sahib.This was where I last saw Sultan Tipoo. He sent me back to the palace to protect his wives while he defended the gate.’

‘Very well.’ Arthur nodded and turned to the lieutenant. ‘I want the native bodies taken out of there and placed in a line by the wall.’

As the sun dipped towards the horizon and cast deep shadows behind the wall the redcoats reluctantly went about the distasteful task. The bodies, limp and slippery with blood, urine and ordure, were pulled out of the tangle of limbs and carried to one side. The killadar’s expression filled with grief as he recognised companions and friends from Tipoo’s court who had fought and died alongside their ruler. As the light faded, Arthur ordered a torch to be lit so that the killadar could examine the bodies in its wavering glare. At last, two men emerged from the passage carrying a small portly man in a richly embroidered silk jacket. He was darker skinned than the others and had fine small hands.

The killadar swallowed and nodded. ‘That is Sultan Tipoo.’

‘Put him down,’ Arthur ordered, and the two soldiers gently lowered the body to the ground. Arthur leaned closer and saw that apart from a few scratches and smears of blood, and a bullet wound to the shoulder, Tipoo seemed to have no lethal wound. Arthur undid some buttons on the jacket and tore open the silk shirt to reveal the dark smooth skin of the chest. He leaned his ear against it and listened for a moment, but there was no hearbeat.

‘He’s dead.’

The lieutenant came over. ‘Is that him, sir? Tipoo?’

Arthur nodded.

‘I remember this one. I saw him up there on the bastion, taking shots at us while his servants loaded his guns. He killed Lieutenant Lalor, shot him through the head. A fine shot at that range. That was before they went down to the passage to make their last stand. He was fighting it out with a sword when I saw him fall. How did he die?’

Arthur glanced over the body. ‘It’s hard to know for certain. Perhaps he fell and was knocked senseless. He was found near the bottom of the pile. It’s likely that he suffocated.’

‘Jesus . . .’The lieutenant shook his head.‘That’s no way to die.’

Fitzroy muttered, ‘There are worse ways, believe me.’

‘Take the body to the palace,’ Arthur ordered. ‘His sons can confirm the identity. Once his men know that he’s dead, there will be no reason to continue the fight.’

They returned to the palace, the body of the Tipoo being carried by a small detail of the men from the water gate. Tipoo’s sons, his wives and the surviving courtiers gathered round the body and began to grieve, their anguished cries echoing back off the walls of his audience chamber. Baird came, in response to the news, and stood to one side looking over the scene.There was no pity in his eyes, just a cold look of satisfaction.

‘I’ll shed no tears for that brute,’ he muttered to Arthur. ‘Nor his family, nor the people of this wretched city.’

‘What are your orders, sir?’

‘Orders?’ Baird frowned for a moment, and Arthur realised that the Scot was as exhausted as himself, and tiredness was dulling their minds. ‘Your men are to guard the palace. Take Tipoo’s sons back to General Harris, then return to the reserve column.’

‘Yes, sir. What about the city?’

‘What about it?’

‘Should we not take steps to establish order here, sir? In case our men get out of control.’

‘No. The men have earned their prize. The city is theirs.’

‘Sir . . .’ Arthur paused a moment. He could imagine the horrors that awaited the people of Seringapatam once the British soldiers, drunk on victory and arrack, began to vent their rage and lust on the inhabitants. ‘Sir, it would be an unconscionable wrong to let our men sack the city.’

Baird shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘Rules of war, Wellesley. Nothing I can do about it. Nothing I will do about it. Not after the way I was treated by these bastards. Now, if you please, you have your orders.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Arthur saluted and turned away.

He left the city with a company of his men to escort Tipoo’s sons to the headquarters of General Harris. Already the sacking of Seringapatam had begun. Occasional gunshots echoed across the city, together with the drunken shouts and singing of the soldiers, and screams and pleas for mercy from its people. A fire flared up in one quarter, casting an orange loom over a corner of the city, and Arthur regarded the scene with disgust and a leaden sense of despair in his heart. Then he turned away and followed his men down through the breach and across the dark waters of the south Cauvery. If there really were crocodiles in the river, they would be feasting on the dead who had been killed while trying to flee from the island.

General Harris received Tipoo’s sons graciously and promised that they would be well treated the moment they had given their paroles. As they were led away Harris joined Arthur as he stood gazing through the tent flaps towards Seringapatam. Listening to the distant pop of gunfire and faint shouts and screams both men were well aware of the horrors unfolding in the city.

‘Baird’s not holding his men back, then?’

‘No, sir.’

‘A pity.This is going to make the job that much more difficult for the man who is to take charge of the city. There will plenty of work to be done winning the natives over to our side. It will require a man with uncommon powers of persuasion and organisation. Major General Baird is not that man,’ Harris concluded sadly, before he turned to Arthur. ‘That is why it must be you, Colonel Wellesley.’

‘Sir?’

‘I’ve made my decision. I want you to be the first Governor of Mysore.’

‘Me, sir?’ Arthur was too tired to hide his shock and surprise.

‘You. Now get back to your tent and get some sleep.You take charge of the city first thing in the morning.’