II.

INDIAN DUNGEONS;

OR,

SUFFERINGS OF CAPTAIN WILSON, A BRITISH OFFICER, IN INDIA, FROM 1781 TO 1783.

IN the early history of our Indian empire are many remarkable examples of daring courage and heroic endurance. To the combination of such high qualities in our soldiers and civilians must be ascribed those dazzling successes by which a factory in the poor village of Govindpour* has been expanded into a government more powerful than that of the Moguls in its greatest magnificence. During such an advance from the Ganges to the Sutlej, some singular perils, hair-breadth escapes, and cruel sufferings must have been endured by many of the agents in this work of developing factories into empires. History does not record their names she has her gorgeous stories of Plassey and Assaye, and will in after ages record the desperate gallantry which has made the Sutlej a stream of note. The Clives, Wellesleys, and Hardinges are not likely to be forgotten when fame fills up with golden characters the columns in the long record of the past. But where are the memories of those who have braved and suffered more perils than ever gathered round these gallant leaders? preserved only in cherished family remembrances, in some simple biography,

* The original name of the place from which Calcutta has risen to its present magnificence.

or, as in the case of the black-hole, by some plain obelisk bearing the victims' names ?*

One of these firm-hearted Britons was a captain named Wilson, who experienced the fury of the tempest which burst upon our Indian settlements in the times of Hyder Ali and Tippoo Saib. These adventures, though known to many, may be new to the readers of this volume, and are therefore presented in these pages as exhibiting some of the sufferings which many of our countrymen underwent during those fearful struggles.

It is proper to inform the reader that these Indian wars arose from the fierce rivalry between the French and English, who, having settlements in India, were engaged in a constant succession of hostilities, even when the two crowns were supposed to be at peace. The great contest commenced by the manoeuvres of the French political agent, M. Duplieux, to excite the native princes against the English, who resolved to submit to no such interference. The genius of Clivet gave a preponderance to the British influence; and the French gradually lost their power in India. They were, nevertheless, able to excite the jealousy of the Indian princes; and thus originated those wars which issued in the triumph of the British in Hindostan. First came the attack on Calcutta by Suraja Dowlah, nabob of Bengal, with its attendant horrors of the Black-hole. He was, in the end, utterly defeated and dethroned; but a bloody war soon ensued with his successor, Meer Cosseim, whom the British had raised to the sovereignty in the place of Meer Jaffier.

The war against Meer Cosseim ended in his ruin, and brought Bengal under the British power. From this strife

* The Black-hole is now used for a warehouse; near which an obelisk is raised, to preserve the memories of those who perished in that prison. †This man of energy was born in Shropshire, 1725, and went to Madras as a writer at the age of nineteen. The struggle between the French and English was then commencing in India, and Clive exchanged his civil for a military appointment. He soon gained important commands, and, striking blow upon blow, he prostrated French power, laid the foundation of our Indian empire, and raised himself to the peerage, being created Baron of Plassey. Lord Chatham described him as a "Heaven-born general, who, without experience, surpassed all the officers of his time." His end was gloomy, as he committed suicide in 1774.

another contest arose. Meer Cosseim had fled to the nabob of Oude Suja Dowlah, who warmly supported his cause. Defeat followed the confederate chiefs ; and the wild courage of Asia yielded to the stern endurance and energy of Europe. The next opponent was Hyder Ali; who, enraged at the success of the British, endeavoured to detach some of the princes from the English interest, and organize a resistance to their power throughout Hindostan. He rushed upon the Carnatic with a deluge of cavalry amounting to 90,000 horsemen, and vowed to drive every Englishman from the land of the sacred Ganges. Though defeated in five desperate battles, his vast forces enabled him to keep the field, and leave to his son-in-law, Tippoo Saib, in 1782, the work of ravaging India. The war ended by the capture of Tippoo's capital, Seringapatam, and the death of its ferocious monarch, who perished by the bayonets of the storming party, May the 4th, 1799.

Beyond this point, the reader's attention need not be called, as the Mahratta† war which followed, and the brilliant victories of Delhi and Assaye have no immediate connexions with the subsequent narrative, which is limited to the reigns of Hyder and Tippoo. Throughout these struggles the French gave every possible aid to Hyder and his son; and by their agency Captain Wilson was first brought into the inhuman Indian nabob's power. As the captain had shown in the service of the East India Company much courage and prudence, he was employed by the Indian authorities in conveying military stores to the British garrisons, fleets, and armies-tasks which he executed in circumstances of the most imminent peril, and once within sight of the French fleet. During one of these trips, whilst carrying stores to the British admiral, Sir Edward Hughes, he was

* This name is given to the south-east extremity of India, a region extending for nearly six hundred miles, from Cape Comorin along the eastern coast. It possesses many fortresses, and is a populous and wealthy territory. It was formerly governed by the nabob of Arcot; but in 1789, the Indian government took full possession of the sovereignty.

These were divided into the eastern and western Mahrattas; their sway extended over the centre and south of India-a country a thousand miles long, and seven hundred miles wide. They were named from Mahrot, an ancient district in the Deccan.

captured by the French, and carried into Cuddalore, a part of the Coromandel coast, about eighty miles south of Madras.

Had this been the end of Wilson's calamity, littie attention would have been drawn to his adventures, which would only have resembled those of thousands upon whom war pours its vials of wrath. But the ferocity of Hyder Ali drew such commiseration around the objects of his cruelty, that fame was naturally acquired where so much was suffered. Desiring to get all the English prisoners taken by the French into his power, in order to extract evidence from them to guide him in his military operations, or to gratify his vengeful spirit by their tortures, he procured the transfer from the French authorities of all the English in Cuddalore to himself, by giving to Suffrein, the French admiral, a bribe of 300,000 rupees; and the latter basely yielded to this dishonourable proposal, the disgrace of which the medalt presented to him by his countrymen could not efface. This transaction soon became known to the captives, who were aware that no feelings of generosity could be looked for in Hyder Ali. It was now that Captain Wilson resolved to attempt an escape from his prison, choosing to risk all dangers rather than fall into the hands of such a human tiger as the Indian prince. Often had the captain paced the ramparts of his prison, and contemplated the possibility of springing from the walls into the river which almost washed their base. The time had now come for reducing this thought into speedy action, in which he persuaded a brother officer and his Hindoo servant to join. The night following the day on which the news of their transfer to Hyder reached the prisoners was fixed upon for the attempt: the hour selected being a short time after sunset, when the darkness would facilitate escape, and the night give time for reaching a distant point before his absence could be detected.

As the hour approached, Captain Wilson ascertained that the officer who had promised to join him declined to en

*This medal bore on it the following rather vaunting inscription :"Le cap protégé; Trinquemale pris; Goudelour delivré; L'Înde defendue; six combats glorieux. Les états de Provence ont decerne cetti medaille. 1784."

counter the perils attending such an attempt. The reader must bear in mind that Wilson's object was to escape from Cuddalore to the Danish settlement of Tranquebar, a distance of about fifty miles, through a country swarming with Hyder's cavalry, and intersected by numerous and deep rivers.* Thus it was not surprising that his friend should refuse to concur in what he believed a useless attempt. He had, however, resolved upon escape; and he set off with the boy towards the ramparts about an hour after sunset. Silently they moved upwards towards that point of the wall whence Wilson intended to make his critical leap. The roll of a pebble or the step of a foot might have betrayed them; but the rampart was gained without discovery; and the sullen rush of the river, heard from a distance of forty feet beneath, was the only sound breaking the stillness of the night. There was no time to be lost: the hour approached when the guard would be relieved; and Wilson, committing himself to God, leaped from the ramparts into the gulf below. He did not fall direct into the stream; but descended on a dry bank of the river with such force, that his body was doubled up, and his knees driven with violence against his face. The rebound of this shock flung Wilson headlong and stunned into the rapid river. He preserved his presence of mind, and having swam to the bank, listened anxiously for the least sound indicating that the sentinels had heard his plunge into the water. All was silent; and re-assured by this, he crept to the highest heap of sand under the ramparts, and caught the boy in his descent. Both were now outside the prison; but the girdle of water yet hemmed them in; and whilst the captain was preparing to cross, he found, to his horror, that the boy was unable to swim. This did not for the present hinder their escape, as the captain bore his servant across on his back. But upon attempting to cross a deep and rushing river at Porto Nova, fourteen miles from Cuddalore, he found it impossible to swim encumbered with the boy. In vain the youth was urged to hold on by his hands only, and

* A glance at the map will show how completely this part of India is intersected by rivers, most of which are branches and outlets of the Cawvery river, which washed Seringapatam, the capital of the Mysorean chief.