Day 10 - The Road to Kanpur

Well I guess I've pushed myself way too hard on these long marches, because now I feel pretty broken in places. That said, I’m in Kanpur! 

I haven’t said much about the road I’m travelling on yet, so here’s the deal; it’s a big long road. There’s not an awful lot more to say unless people want me to go into the condition of the tarmac etc. and I’m no expert in that. It’s a main highway, part of the Great Trunk Road joining northwest to northeast India. It’s the same road (more or less) that the British were so protective of and hugely important to domestic trade today. Signs of the Mutiny are predictably non-existent. India has mushroomed in population over 150 years and villages have become towns, towns, cities. there aren’t any landmarks and no memorials along the way. What you do get though, is a sense of what the countryside must have been like to traverse back then. There will have been a lot more uncultivated vegetation about, but the tall 10ft grasses, prickly bushes and dusty soil would have been the same that I’ve been weaving in and out of for the past few days. It is hot, dry, and polluted here. Excrement and plastic of all sorts litters the roadside.If you want to do your business, of any variety, the roadside is the place. Therefore the biggest hazard, tends to be to poo. care on where one places ones sandals becomes of paramount importance.  Where 150 years ago miles might go by without sign of human life, India today is a more crowded place. Every few hundred yards there is a chai stand, motorbike workshop, chewing tobacco vendor, or some such. The noise from the road is terrific. Drivers bang away on their car horns furiously, never ceasing, and the colourfully decorated trucks often have elaborate musical ditties to accompany theirs, like a bangra Dukes of Hazard. Earplugs or podcasts are essential. I get stopped every few yards by cyclists, motorcyclists, or other pedestrians and asked where I’m from, where I’m going, have I seen the cricket?, would I like a ride? And they all seem to think I’m mentally deranged to be walking to Kanpur. 

Well, I got nearly 20 miles along the road today and felt like I was on my last legs with still about 10 miles to go and a truck driver stopped and asked whether I’d like a lift. I was, on this occasion, grateful for the offer. I don’t think I could have made the final third without doing some kind of damage. I agreed to the offer and climbed into the shabby cab where I found another eight people crammed into the back. We had a very nice chat about cricket in Hindi and English as we slewed across the carriageways (he needed to use his hands to communicate quite a lot and steering took second place to making new friends it seemed). He dropped me on the outskirts of Kanpur and gave me a flower garland after compulsory photos and temple blessing. 

I reluctantly picked up my leaden pack and began trudging towards the city centre. A few hundreds yards on, I was stopped by three uniformed men in a 4x4 and asked where I was going. I was then bundled into the vehicle despite my protests that I’d be fine on my own, and immediately driven to their compound. There I was given two cups of ginger chai, a plate of McCoys Masala flavour crisps, and after an hour of chatting in Hinglish, told I was to go no-where without them for escort. The encounter concluded with me being driven to a hotel, a heavily discounted room rate arranged, and more compulsory piccies, before lots of salutes, handshakes and grateful goodbyes. It turns out the leader of the group was the Chief Fire Officer and determined to make my arrival in Kanpur as welcome and hassle free as possible. I rather like what I’ve seen of Kanpur so far.  

The road warrior at his ancient, decrepit monster truck

News of my arrival in Kanpur prompted an official welcoming committee from chief of the emergency services. Love that anyone in a peaked cap gets saluted for merely drinking tea. It feels very 'proper'. 

HISTORICAL NOTE:

Lucknow. The capital of Oudh province lies on the banks of the Gumti, 50 or so miles north of Kanpur. The government was represented by Sir Henry Lawrence, widely regarded as a fine, experienced administrator and much admired. Lawrence recognised the scale of the problem that sepoy disaffection would bring and while reassuring those under his stewardship, made contingencies should anything go awry. 

All the principal buildings lay between the city and the river. Here too was the residency which covered a little over 2000ft wide by 1200ft deep. 

Lucknow was garrisoned by the 32nd Foot, about 570 strong. 50 or so artillery men and the 7th Native Cavalry, 13th, 48th, & 71st Native Infantry with artillery attached. 

When danger seemed imminent, Sir Henry ordered the number of critical buildings guarded reduced from eight to four and strengthened them. The magazine and treasury were to be guarded by Europeans and by the 24th May, all families were moved into the residency. All administrative staff were armed and drilled, and Lucknow seemed as well prepared as anywhere in the troubled region. 

On the 30th May, the 71st revolted, murdered Brigadier Handscomb, plus others, and they were followed by the other Native regiments, save minority elements of the 48th, a few of the 71st, and the bulk of the 13th. Lawrence chased them out of town and continued to gather intelligence from the surrounding areas. It was clear that the mutineers were running riot in the countryside, but his grip on Lucknow for the time being remained intact. Sir Henry then appealed to all loyal Sepoys to join him at the residency and over 500 grey haired soldiers responded with 170 taken on strength. Still, he had very few men to defend a long perimeter, around 800 in total. As it was, there was no siege. When news of the fall of Kanpur reached on the 28th June, and the rebels 8 miles from the residency, Lawrence chose to attack them. Gallant, but ultimately futile, the expedition retreated back to the residency with half the 32nd gone and the city itself in the hands of the mutineers. The residency at Lucknow was under siege and all that could be done, as at Kanpur, was to hold until relieved. 

Day 9 - The Road to Kanpur

People may wonder what I get up to in the evenings. I mean, there's not much of a bar culture out in the Indian sticks. They don't drink on the whole, so there wouldn't be much point. Quiz nights, nightclubs, theatres, bowling alleys, tiddlywinks competitions, they are all rare finds out here. Well, having started the 'Historical notes' bit of the blog, I'm reading quite a lot and writing that from my sources. To be honest, it's a bit of a chore at times but I've started now and feel a responsibility to finish. So if anyone says I should give it up because it's a waste of good internet space, please keep those thoughts to yourself. If in a few days time you find an entry that simply says 'the British won and all went home for a cuppa' you'll know I got bored of researching facts and stuff (Oops! Spoiler alert!).  

I also watch a bit of recorded tv on the Mac. I've ripped through 'Suits' which I thoroughly enjoyed, and 'The Man in the High Castle' which is excellent. More seasons of those from Amazon would be very welcome. 'Breaking Bad' is up next. It had better be as good as everyone says.

The walk today got me a long way down the road, but it was knackering. 22miles, which places me within striking distance of Kanpur tomorrow - just - well, maybe. I'm doing too many miles in each hop for my untrained body, but the hotel last night left me with mozzie bites all over and the thought of too many more nights like that holds little appeal. So I'll try and make a decent go of it tomorrow and see where I end up. 

I had several attempts at thwarting the mosquitoes, sadly to little effect.

Life on the open road. Thank god for the Frank Skinner podcasts. They've made me chuckle all the way down the highway.

HISTORICAL NOTE:

The aftermath of the Kanpur siege. After 21 day of being under fire, the 450 survivors of the siege quietly tramped down to the banks of the Ganges to be embarked onto 40 or so barges for their transportation back to British lines. By 7am, the evacuation was well underway. As a bugle called out, boatsmen threw the embers of their cooking stoves onto the thatched roofs of the barges and jumped overboard. The mounted escorts to the British parade then opened up on them with carbines. They were joined by the now revealed Sepoys along the banks. The survivors of the initial fusillade tried to push barges into the flowing river but only three barges made it, one of which sunk without gaining the current, another, drifted to the far bank and awaiting Sepoys. 

On the bank, General Wheeler perished along with the rest of his command and just 125 women and children remained alive by the time a ceasefire was ordered. Taken to Bithor, the seat of Nana's power, the wounded, drenched and humiliated survivors could only wait for rescue from Allahabad. 

Meanwhile, the last remaining oarless, rudderless boat, containing a dangerously overloaded 60 refugees, drifted downstream followed closely by Sepoys on the riverbank. The Sepoys began sniping and soon the number of dead outnumbered the living. 

With the onset of darkness, the barge halted on a sandbank midstream but the night was disturbed by a fire boat sent to engulf the few survivors. Avoiding the danger, the next day saw more riverbank sniping, before the arrival of the first monsoon provided some relief. Another pursuing barge filled with Sepoys was spotted, but grounded on a sandbar. About 20 men then decided to charge the barge borne Sepoys and in so doing, discouraged further pursuit. After another night on the river, morning brought realisation that they were trapped in a river tributary and under fire once again. A sortie by 13 men chased off the aggressors but the boat had gone by the time they returned, never to be seen again. Finding a temple for refuge, they beat off repeated attacks before breaking out. Seven made it back to the river, four managed to outdistance their pursuers. These last four, led by Lt. Mowbray Thompson, were rescued by natives loyal to the British. Only one was unwounded, and all were in a pitiful state. 

British pride had been sorely wounded, its main artery through Northern India severed, and the British field command had shot its bolt getting into Delhi. Plus, there were women and children to rescue. The situation called for a boys own, stiff upper lipped Victorian general to try and salvage the situation. Someone like Sir Henry Havelock.

Day 8 - The Road to Kanpur

Minor confession. I didn't feel particularly well disposed to walking another 28 miles to the nearest village today after my epic march yesterday. There are a few reasons for this, but the most pressing is, no town equals no money. I'm also on a bit of a schedule as I've got an appointment later this month elsewhere in India. Two unexpected days in Jaipur have put me behind somewhat. Using my legs alone in the time I have remaining, will be either a) torture (not much of a holiday) or b) fatal (not much of a holiday). So I decided to spend the last of my cash and catch a bus, saving two days travel and unaffordable accommodation in the process. Anyway, I wanted to try an Indian bus, and it's not like I'm on a crusade or being sponsored or anything, so get down off of my grill about it. 

I'm not entirely sure what all the fuss is about really. Sure, it was beaten up, no air con, dirty, smelly, cramped, and I did feel as though I was going to die several times, but on the upside, it was cheap and it moved forwards faster than I could walk - occasionally. So it bounced and jiggled and beeped and burped its way onward until it, and I, finally reached Fatepur. 

Did everyone else know, because I didn't, 'lovely jubbly' is an actual thing? The fact that 'I come from London' offers an easy opportunity to trot the phrase out, along with a smile and some reference to cricket, a sport that I have exactly 30 minutes spectator experience of. All conversations around cricket and the England team in particular, are short. 

Who said 'money doesn't bring you happiness'? What a load of bollocks. I managed to change some currency(£50 - which sounds like a lot if you're Indian and get full value out of that, but I'm a tourist, so you can count that as about £25 at best) at a friendly bank today, find a can of out of date lager, and a new flavour of crisps for dinner. I'm about as happy as a dog with two dicks this evening. 

In my survival pack I have many things, including a shoelace. I managed to make good use of this seemingly superfluous item, by stringing up my Mac charger and getting a charge from an awkwardly placed socket in my $8 hotel. I'm hacking a European plug into an Indian socket, so it the fitting is as loose as a 50 year old Cuban hooker. 

She's a peach isn't she?

Some creative sparky work

HISTORICAL NOTE:

The siege of Kanpur. The mutiny of the 2nd Cavalry was quickly followed by the rest of the Native regiments stationed at Kanpur and the rebels spent the next few days looting, burning, and finally, marching towards Delhi to join their Meerut colleagues, before marching back again to Kanpur. The chief reason for their return was that Nana Sahib had decided to declare his hand and with the promise of reward for their efforts, the mutineers threw their lot in with the only real leader the Mutiny possessed in the area.

The Europeans had entrenched as best they could and waited for the next rebel move, or reinforcements, whichever came first. As it turned out, the now somewhat organised rebels moved arms and ammunition up from the magazine, and began raining iron destruction down on the leaguerd defenders. The barracks and houses that made up their refuge came under almost constant fire and casualties began to mount. Around 100 civilians were issued arms to aid the defence, but slowly the death toll rose. 

A mass attack on the 11th June led by the 2nd Cavalry, failed after determined resistance eventually paid off, but the hospital could not be saved when its thatched roof caught alight two days later. Aside from the four killed by the blaze, almost every new casualty knew their chances of survival without medicine were now a lot slimmer. On 23rd June, with no shelter from the 120 degree heat, drawing well water a snipers delight, and no food to speak of, 250 remaining able bodies prepared to withstand a mass attack by 4000 Sepoys. After a furious defence, the attack failed, but it signaled the end. A day later, Nana sent a note offering honourable surrender and the garrison were no longer in any position to refuse. 

Day 7 - Allahabad

The value of money has changed in the past couple of days. The official exchange rate is 83 rupees to the pound. I was offered 70 on the street yesterday morning. By the evening it had gone down to 60. I changed a 500 rupee note with a street vendor for 400 but I'm afraid money has all but run out again. The banks reopening has done nothing to ease the problem. Those who get up early enough and prepared to wait for hours finally emerge from the red tape torture with the look of a lottery winner. The rest just wait, in vain. Those lottery winners with the newly minted 2000 rupee notes in pocket can't spend them. No one has the change. Everyone seems a bit more desperate now. Nearing a week without cash has produced frayed tempers and angry shouting. The papers spin in favour of the government, but the pushing and shoving is getting that little bit worse. I saw an enthusiastic policeman wielding a long stick at a queue and it did nothing but inflame the crowd. Quite understandable I would say. It's hardly the fall of Saigon, but there is an air of greater menace. Indians seem very patient by nature, and I'm sure it will be fine in the end but it's a shabby state of affairs really. 

Well I've stayed in 3 hotels so far and the promised wifi in all of them has been shocking. Broken in fact. I've had to rely on a coupe of coffee shops to get these posts out. I'm now onto the walking bit, so I can't imagine I'll be getting posts out every day as I'd like. Hey ho. 

I sat and watched a cricket match yesterday. For half an hour, no one hassled me, wanted to know where I was from, or asked me for money. Everyone was happy to just sit and watch or play cricket. I even forgot about my money worries while I sat there sipping water. I wonder if Indians use cricket as a way of forgetting whatever is bothering them too?

I thought Jaipur was lovely. Agra has its plus points, but beyond the fort and TM, there's little else to say about it. I started my walk this morning from Allahabad and I enter this part of my journey with a degree of trepidation. I wander where no credit card has roamed, with just a few quid in my pocket and no accommodation. If I find a Marriott, which I won't, I'll go there. Outside of that, it's all going to be a bit of an adventure. Wish me luck - it's only walking, right?

Accommodation: not too bad actually. The overnight train to Allahabad was as good as any hotel I've stayed in so far.

Food: oh let's not go into all that again

Walking: I would describe myself as being 'moderately sweaty' after my walk today. I've done nearly 28 miles (the train got in early, so I just cracked on with it). Am currently in an overnight truck stop near Bharwari. 

Grass roots cricket. Not that there was any grass. 

First class overnight travel. It wasn't quite was I'd hoped for.

Hurty dirty foot.

HISTORICAL NOTE:

Kanpur lies on the Ganges almost directly in between Delhi and Calcutta, and some 50 miles south of the capital of the Oudh province, Lucknow. It was roughly the centre point of the Grand Trunk Road connecting the two great cities, and therefore occupied a strategically important location. The ability of the British to tie in northwest with northeast India, relied on Kanpur.  As such, the garrison at Kanpur was significant. 3 regiments of Native Indian, the 1st, 53rd & 56th, plus 2nd Native Indian Cavalry, some 61 British artillery men and the families of the 32rd Foot, themselves being based at Lucknow. 

Sir Hugh Massey Wheeler commanded Kanpur, and Lord Canning worried about it greatly. 

The well regarded Wheeler knew that discontent was genuine and upon hearing the news from Meerut on 14th May, planned a defence of Kanpur based around a single location in the town, provisioned and closest to Allahabad, from where relief could be expected were it required. 

Nana Sahib was Rajah of Bithor, the advisor of the civil authorities in Kanpur, had frequent dealings with them, and a high degree of trust bestowed upon him. He was also the rebel leader for the entire area. Sahib persuaded Wheeler via the civilian authorities to use 200 of his men to guard the treasury and magazine and move the women and children to safety in nearby Bithor, his fiefdom. He was to shorty incarcerate them and take the treasury for his own. 

Wheeler received some reinforcements to bolster the 66 steady men at hand to bring him up to around 300 European men at arms all told. Despite this, the 2nd Cavalry rose up on 4th June. 

Wheeler needed more help than was on hand, and he hoped that it would be coming from the direction of Allahabad before it was too late. 

Day 6 - Agra

Haggling in India. I HATE haggling. Some people love it, I detest it. Ordinarily, I'd play along to persuade myself I'm as competent as the next man, then give up as the sums involved usually amount to a few pence anyway. At the moment, and because funds are flaky, I feel obliged to do the best I can. Unfortunately, my best is pretty poor and Indians are VERY sharp operators. JUST GIVE ME THE WATER FOR 20 RUPEES YOU CHEEKY THIEVING BASTARD! The main problem is that I want what they've got, and they know it. It's not a great place to be when entering into a negotiation. 

In a fit of annoyance at running low on funds again and having stood in a foreigners queue for an hour only to be told they'd run out of cash at the bank desk, I stopped off at the Agra Radisson to drown my sorrows. First beer of the hols and boy was it good. My credit card melted when the bill had to be paid, but it was worth every penny. 

The most noteworthy news of the day is that I saw the Taj Mahal. In truth, I couldn't be arsed to actually go in - which is a bit daft as I'm in Agra for the Taj Mahal - but it was a rip off to get in (£12 which is a kings ransom in India) and I just decided on the spot that I didn't want to join 5000 other people for just one more iconic piccie. It felt at odds with my general principles of travel, to join the tourist conveyor belt. Plus, being able to buy water tomorrow is probably a better investment. I'll stick the Taj Mahal on the list alongside the Uffizi and Stonehenge. If you've seen them, then you get the gist. You don't need to touch the damn things to feel like you've 'done it'. Anyway, the Agra Fort was much more impressive.

If the above sounds like I'm a bit miffed with India, then I've done a disservice. I've become comfortable with the place. I'm no more irritated than any other tourist to India right now. The currency issues are causing havoc and I've seen well to do ample bellied westerners going loco at their inability to buy plastic Taj Mahal replicas through lack of funds. My notes on the subject are mute by comparison. 

Accommodation: well it wasn't the Radisson. Not by a long chalk. 

Food: complimentary peanuts at the Radission. 

Walking: a modest 13 miles today. Agra is very nearly literally, a shit tip. 

Another 'red fort' they really do know how to fortify over here you know!

To adhere to the modern maxim 'no proof, didn't happen' here is the best shot of the TM that I have. Bollocks to anyone saying 'it's shit'. I'm having to live on water and peanuts over here . 

HISTORICAL NOTE:

As I leave the Delhi and Agra behind for my journey eastwards, I should conclude the story of Delhi. By no means the end of the mutiny, but perhaps a clear sign that old John Bull wasn't about to give up its Asian cash cow without a fight. 

General Barnard, the commander of the forces that had been assembled to retake the city, received reinforcements throughout the months following its fall. By the time he had encamped on its northern approaches, he faced a garrison of 40,000 sepoys* protected by British reinforced walls of sturdy construction. 

On the 12th June, Barnard ordered an assault, which was delayed sufficiently for him to be carried off by cholera on 5th July and succeeded by General Reed. Reed's health failed on the 17th July leaving  General Wilson holding the reins. Further reinforcements brought the besiegers numbers to 8748 effectives of whom 3317 were British. Finally, on the 8th September, fire commenced in earnest on Delhi. For five days artillery duelled, and on the morning of the 14th September, an attack on two practicable breaches ordered. Such affairs are always bloody. The British however managed to carry the walls with horrific loss of life and conspicuous gallantry on both sides. British casualties amounted to 1170 killed and wounded. Sepoy figures are not known. It took a further 5 days to recover Delhi and left Wilson with barely 3000 effectives to continue on to Agra and Kanpur. 

*Mallensons figures

Day 5 - Jaipur

Now I have money in my pocket, I've finally been able to slow down, take a breath, and enjoy the scenery. 

A few words on conditions/life for your average Indian chappy or chappese. ...I was going to go on about poverty in India but there really wouldn't be anything revelatory in that, we've all seen it on the tv. The only thing I CAN say, is that it's difficult to see it in person. If anyone has seen or read about how the slums of London for Manchester were in the c.19th, that would be a good start. People start in debt and never really get out of it seemingly. Have a bad day and you've had your chips. Rag picking is a common sight which is upsetting, especially when they are young. And they work long hours for just a few rupees. Ok, that's enough. Just remember how lucky you are. 'I thank god I was born an Englishman' has the air of arrogance about it, and when originally said, I suspect it was arrogant. I'm happy today to repeat the phrase with a bit more humility and humanity. 

On a lighter note, the colour of my wee has returned to 'within medical norms'. I've walked over 50 miles in 3 days. The more energetic among you may scoff, but it seems like quite a lot to me, especially as I haven't actually started the walking bit of my holiday yet. Let's call it last minute training. 

I splurged on some crisps for dinner last night as I'm now flush ...I'm going to have to try some actual food at some point aren't I? Don't rush me, I'm still warming up (and my stomach has contracted a bit recently). 

Right! I have no idea if the historical bit is worth the effort but I'M interested in it, so you'll have to play along. I've said a bit about Delhi and I'm on to Agra next, Agra is the next bit of the story. 

The Jal Mahal Palace do-dah-whatnot, Jaipur, in the middle of a lake. Quite quite lovely actually.

HISTORICAL NOTE:

British forces in India formed by far the smaller part of the Bengal Army. 

Only 5 British regiments were available to Lord Canning across the whole north of India at the time of the uprising, and they were all employed managing the areas immediately around their station. No British forces were on hand to launch an expedition against a supposedly loyal and numerous Native army. Native regiments were officered by the British, now mostly dead, and there were a number of artillery, engineers, irregular cavalry and the like acting as attached units to main bodies. Canning was forced to send for reinforcements from the south of India and the Empire at large. He simply didn't have enough to quash a wide scale uprising and it would all take time.

Enough units were eventually assembled at Simla, north of Delhi, to march and hopefully retake the city. Elsewhere, British and Europeans hunkered down and waited. 

In Agra, the situation at first seemed secure enough. A large and important garrison town, it held one of those few regiments, referred to above, the 3rd Europeans. It had an imposing fort to defend and stores aplenty. Europeans gravitated towards Agra as a safe haven, and began arriving in dribs and drabs with tales of roadside murder and lucky escapes. 

What Agra lacked, was effective military leadership. Despite having sufficient numbers and expertise to harry those rebels close enough and cause significant damage to the rebel cause, Agra's defenders sat out the conflict until external pressure and honour forced their hand. By the time they finally sallied, rebel numbers were concentrated and too great. An open field battle with too few numbers against entrenched mutineers, caused a deadly debacle which resulted in retreat to the fortress with heavy British losses. Brigadier Polwhele left the field with his already damaged reputation in tatters. Agra remained relatively safe but almost entirely impotent until it could be relieved from either Calcutta, or Delhi. 

Day 4 - Jaipur

India is a country of 1.25 billion people. That's many many many times the population of the UK and very nearly 1.25 billion more people than live in my Bulgarian village. It's an astoundingly large number of people. I think I've met most of them now, and most of them have asked for a selfie with me. Is that weird? It feels a bit weird. I mean I'm pretty ordinary I think. Not quite front cover of GQ material I'd say, but hardly elephant man either. Natural air of authority I guess. 

I popped an impressively bloated blister while doing a few running repairs in my hotel last night. I reckon the fluid arced a good three feet before hitting the tiles. Given my water rationing since I arrived, I wish I was able to piss as confidently. My urine has taken on the consistency of toothpaste. I spread less viscous honey onto my toast not two weeks ago. 

Jaipur, from what I have seen, barely qualifies as a quiet hamlet when compared to Delhi. It is nonetheless more manic and more noisy than any part of any city in the U.K. by several thousand degrees. It reminds me of Mandalay on a very busy day for those who are able to compare.

I'm going to post this a little early as connectivity is uncertain. I have managed to find a bank open and shamefully used 'foreigners privilege' and went to the front of the queue. Good job too really, it got a bit rioty amongst the locals. Well pushy and shovey and very shouty mostly, but India does appear to be mightily upset with its government at the mo. Still, I'm solvent for the moment having changed the maximum £50 into rupees. I think a lot of locals will find the banks closed before they reach the front of the queue. 

Sunset over Jaipur last night

The front bit of the bank queue 

HISTORICAL NOTE:

The forces that remained in Meerut under General Hewitt were paralysed by shock and fear. To the surprise of the mutineers who fully expected swift and violent retribution, they spent the day collecting bodies and agreeing to wait in situ. The Sepoys marched on to Delhi and the Murgal palace, the imposing Red Fort.

British interests at the palace were represented by the Commissioner of Delhi, Mr Fraser and palace guard Commandant Captain Douglas. Soldiery at the palace amounted to the 38th Native Infantry, already suspected to be disloyal. Suspicions became reality when the 38th opened the gates to the mutineers who then proceeded to kill anything resembling European authority. Fraser, Douglas, the chaplain, several women, children and civilians were slain. The residents of the European quarter suffered the same fate with no quarter being recorded. Not every member of every regiment rose up. There are instances of reluctant participants, and indeed saviours of civilians among the ranks but the significant majority served the rebellion enthusiastically enough. 

Relief from the two remaining regiments found locally proved short lived. The 54th Native Infantry shot their British officers and swelled the ranks of the rebels rather than fight them. The 74th Native Infantry, halted at the Kashmir Gate and waited it out. While they were doing so, the great Delhi magazine blew. The handful of British officers and men guarding the power, reconciled themselves to an explosive finale to the short Delhi siege, and sent themselves, plus hundreds of mutineers* to their graves. It provided the crescendo to the opening move of the rebellion and Delhi was firmly in the hands of rebels. 

*Mallenson is often short on statistics, long on British hyperbole.