do we not advance?" and all this couched in language more forcible than
polite.

The order at last was given to fix bayonets, and then came the welcome
words:

"The line will advance."

Every heart thrilled with excitement. All longed to have a brush with
the mutineers, and help our comrades in the fort who were fighting
against such odds.

Twenty paces only we advanced, and then, by the Brigadier's command, our
Colonel[3] gave the order to halt.

The men were furious, and could hardly be restrained from marching
forward, when, looking towards the outer side of the fort, we saw some
sepoys on the ramparts, evidently in a state of panic, throw themselves
into the ditch, and mounting the other side, run helterhelterskelter
into the country. These were followed by numbers of others, who all made
off as fast as their legs would carry them, and then we heard a true
British cheer, our men appeared on the walls shooting at the fugitives,
bayonetting and driving them over the glacis.

The fight had continued some twenty minutes, and was pretty severe while
it lasted. A few of our men were more or less hurt, but of the sepoys
many had been killed and wounded. About 100 also had laid down their
arms, and, begging for mercy, were taken prisoners.

Nothing could have been more culpable than the conduct of the Brigadier