To get away to the north they had to cross the canal which was close to the northern end of the cantonments; but so occupied were the mutineers with plundering the bungalows that the fugitives waded across without being seen, the water coming up to their chests. Mrs Forrest's youngest daughter, a girl of nine, was carried on Vibart's shoulders. Beyond the canal a vast plain of stubble fields covered with thistles stretched before them in the moonlight without a single landmark to guide them. Through this they stumbled wearily in their wet clothes, Lieutenant Forrest lagging behind in great pain from the hand which had been wounded in defence of the Magazine, and badly bruised from the recoil of a howitzer. His wife, also suffering from a wound in her shoulder, walked steadily on, uttering no complaint.
About three miles from the cantonments, unable to proceed any farther, they took shelter in a small patch of scrub. Scarcely had they lain down here, however, than a party of sepoys coming from the direction of Meerut suddenly appeared less than a hundred yards away, making directly for the scrub where they lay concealed. The men, walking in Indian file, passed within a few feet of their hiding-place, seeming not to notice them, until one of them caught sight of a bottle of water which had been left lying in the open. He stooped to pick it up, whispering to his companions who then peered into the bushes, muttering to each other that there were people hiding there. Vibart cocked the double-barrelled gun which, apart from three flimsy regimental swords of an old infantry pattern, was the only weapon his party possessed. He watched the sepoys, holding his breath, clearly seeing the gold regulation necklace of the native officer who led them. After a brief interval, to Vibart's astonishment, the sepoys moved off, seated themselves leisurely on the ground a hundred yards away, and made no attempt to follow the Europeans when they sprang from the bushes and ran off in the opposite direction.
Saturday, April 11, 2020
He watched the sepoys, holding his breath, clearly seeing the gold regulation necklace of the native officer who led them.
From The Great Mutiny by Christopher Hibbert. Page 115.
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