e alert. This decided Sir
Colin to give up the idea of withdrawing the relieved garrison by
Banks's house.

Early on the following morning, the 19th, I was sent by the
Commander-in-Chief to the Residency with a note for Sir James Outram,
containing the information that arrangements for the withdrawal were
now complete, and that conveyances for the women, children, sick, and
wounded would be sent as soon as they arrived from the Dilkusha.

When he had read the note Sir James questioned me as to the road, and
asked me particularly if I had noticed the openings made in the walls
of houses and enclosures, and whether I thought they were large enough
for the guns, carts, and carriages to get through. I replied that I
had not observed them very particularly, but I was inclined to
think some of them were certainly rather small. My answer, to my
astonishment, roused the ire of a wounded officer lying on a couch at
the end of the room, for he wrathfully asked me whether I had measured
the openings, and on my saying I had not, he added: 'You had better
wait to give your opinion until you know what you are talking about;
those openings were made by my orders, and I am quite sure they are
the necessary size.' The officer was no other than Colonel Robert
Napier, who, as I have already stated, was badly wounded on the 17th.
I felt myself considerably snubbed, but Sir James kindly came to the
rescue, and explained that I had merely answered his question and had
not offered any opinion of my own: Colonel Napier, however, was not
to be appeased, and I could plainly see that I had incurred his
displeasure, and that he thought me a very bumptious youngster. I do
not know whether the Chief of the Staff[1] ever heard of it, but it
was some satisfaction to me to find afterwards that I was right in my
estimation of the size of those apertures, some of which had to be
enlarged before the guns and carriages could pass through.

By sunset that day the women and children had been brought away and
collected in the Sikandarbagh. Not a very agreeable resting-place, for
though the 2,000 dead mutineers had been got out of sight, they were
merely slightly covered over in a ditch which they themselves had
recently dug outside the north wall to strengthen the defences. The
survivors of the siege, however, had become too inured to horrors of
all kinds, and were too thankful for their deliverance from the fate
which for months had constantly threatened