# Volunteering in India/Chapter 1

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VOLUNTEERING IN INDIA.
CHAPTER I.
1857 are figures indelibly dyed in blood, and their sanguinary impression stamps one of the most cruel, and sorrowful pages in the history of the world.
In that disastrous year of the Indian Mutiny — which even to the present day continues to furnish authentic material for the revelation of almost unknown episodes appertaining to that memorable period — the following abstract of Notification No. 931, dated July 23rd, 1857, was published by the Government of India:-
“The Governor-General in Council has reason to know that there are in Calcutta, Bengal, and the North-West Provinces many Englishmen whose peaceable avocations have been interrupted by the disturbed state of the country, and who, although in no way connected with the Government, are willing and eager to give an active support to its authority at the present time by sharing service in the Field with the troops of the Queen, and of the East India Company.
“The Governor-General in Council has thorough confidence in the loyalty, courage, and enterprising zeal of the community ​to which he refers, and he is satisfied that service rendered in the spirit in which they are ready to give it will be most valuable to the State.
“With the view of availing himself of such service in the most effectual manner, his Lordship in Council directs that a Volunteer Corps of cavalry be formed, to be called the Bengal Yeomanry Cavalry, and to be equipped and prepared for duty in the disturbed districts," etc., etc.
At this critical time of national gloom, when there was mourning throughout the length and breadth of England, and Upper India was saturated with the innocent blood of our hapless fellow-countrymen, Volunteers — amid great demonstrations of enthusiasm — cheerfully responded to the appeal contained in the above-quoted notification, and within a week of its publication a cavalry regiment — composed not of “European adventurers and Eurasians,” as was at first surmised, but of young military officers recently arrived from England, or those left idle by the mutiny of their regiments, of clerks in the Government and mercantile offices, of midshipmen belonging to the Peninsular and Oriental and other companies' ships, of indigo planters, of some unemployed Europeans and Eurasians, of young men related to the best families in the country; and most of these were excellent riders, good shots, and keen sportsmen — was actually formed, mounted, equipped, and ready for service in the field.
Accordingly, on an appointed day, at an early hour the Corps rode forth, and drew up on the Calcutta esplanade for inspection by the Governor-General. ​But as the morning had not yet sufficiently brightened for the “review,” I took advantage of the idle moments at my disposal to note on the margin of my shirt-cuff the uniform, or rather “turn-out,” of the Volunteers.
They wore brown corduroy breeches, over which were drawn jack-boots reaching above the knees; loose blue flannel blouses (called “jumpers” by the diggers in Australia); and grey felt helmets enveloped in huge white turbans completed a rough-and-ready uniform, in which they certainly looked a dashing and dare-devil set of fellows. A heavy sabre, light carbine, and formidable revolvers were their arms.
The horses, though untrained, were young, powerful, and splendid animals. for the hard and unceasing work they were destined to encounter. And their trappings were for service, and not for show.
The Governor-General (Lord Canning), having inspected and complimented the Volunteers, bade them a kind farewell — a sincere au revoir. And presently the Corps, numbering two hundred and fifty-eight sabres, under the leadership of Colonel Richardson, C.B., left Calcutta for Upper India.
Two hundred and fifty-eight Volunteers seem a paltry number to have rallied round the Government in so momentous a crisis as that which called them to arms on its behalf; but it must be borne in mind that in those awful days there were but a mere handful of available Englishmen in Bengal, and so far as their numbers were concerned, it was an acknowledged surprise that so many were found to leap forward in ​aid of the State. Besides, during the Mutiny, it was not so much the force of numbers as the dreaded calm white face, with the avenging sword in hand, that made its presence terrible, whenever and wherever it appeared before the mutineers. Moreover, the reader must not forget that it was impossible to overvalue the worth of an Englishman in those critical times. His very shadow was a tower of strength. And animated by a thorough sense of patriotism, and relying upon our own personal efforts, with unbounded confidence in each other, we were worth our number ten times told.