1829.] Memoirs of John Shipp. 253 
large pieces of wood, stakes, stones, bushes, and pointed bamloos, through 
the crevices of which was a mass of spears jobbing diagonally, which seemed 
to move by mechanism. Such was the footing we had, that it was utterly 
impossible to approach these formidable weapons. Meantime, small spears or 
darts were hurled at us; and stones, lumps of wood, stink-pots, and bundles 
of lighted straw, thrown upon us. In the midst of this tumult, I got 
one of my legs through a hole, so that I could see into the interior of the fort. 
The people were like a swarm of bees. In a moment I felt something seize 
my foot: I pulled with all my might, and at last succeeded in disengaging 
my leg, but leaving my boot behind me. Our establishing ourselves on this 
breach, in sufficient force to dislodge this mass of spearsmen, was physically 
impossible. Our poor fellows were mowed down like corn-fields, without the 
slightest hope of success. The rear of the column suffered much, as they were 
within range of the enemy’s shot. A retreat was ordered, and we were again 
obliged to take to the water, and many a poor wounded soldier lost his life in 
this attempt. Not one of our officers escaped without being wounded, and 
Lieutenant Creswell was almost cut to pieces. He, I believe, still lives in 
England; and, should this little history fall into his hands, he will read these 
events with as much regret as the narrator writes them. We, as may be sup- 
posed, returned almost broken-hearted at this our first failure in India. Our 
loss was a melancholy one, and the conviction that the poor wounded fellows 
we were compelled to leave behind would be barbarously massacred, incited 
our brave boys to beg a second attempt. This was denied: had it been 
granted, it must infallibly have proved abortive ; for there was, literally, no 
breach.” 
The second attack is thus described :— 
“J once more took my station with my twelve volunteers, supported by my 
two companies as before. A shell from one of the howitzers was a signal to 
move. On this signal being given, the shell, bursting in the muzzle of the gun 
or mortar, killed two of our grenadiers: a sad beginning. The bridge fol- 
lowed the Forlorn Hope, carried on men’s shoulders, and must have appeared 
some extraordinary monster to those who were not acquainted with its intended 
use. We moved on, and before I got half way down to the fort, six of my 
men were killed or wounded.. The enemy, no doubt encouraged by our late 
defeat, had redoubled their fire, both in guns and men; and on the right side 
of the breach they had thrown out an under-work, which was filled with 
matchlock-men, and in which they had several guns. My men kept falling off 
one by one ; and when I arrived at the edge of the ditch, which appeared wide 
and deep, and was assisting the men with the bridge, I received a matchlock 
ball, which entered over the right eye, and passed out over the left. This 
tumbled me, my forehead literally hanging over my nose, and the wound 
bleeding profusely. I was at this time close to our gallant Captain Lindsay, 
who, at the same moment, received a ginjall-ball in the right knee, which 
shattered the bone to pieces. I recovered a little from the stun of my wound, 
when the first thing that met my eye (for I could only see with one) was the 
bamboo bridge quietly gliding down the stream, being some yards too short. 
Nothing but killed and wounded could be seen, and there was not the most 
distant chance of getting in. To have attempted crossing the ditch would 
ave been an act of madness. In descending we must have phinged over our 
heads in water, and they had two small guns bearing on the spot. At 
last a retreat was ordered. Previous to this, our poor fellows stood like 
sheep to be shot at, without the remotest hope of success. ‘The camels and 
elephants, alarmed by the tremendous firing and shouting, could not be 
induced to approach the fort, many of them throwing their loads and running 
back to camp, and wild into the woods. Seven hundred men were killed and 
wounded on this occasion. Our brave Captain Lindsay’s wound was so bad 
that his leg was amputated in the battery. My wound was a dangerous one 
having touched the bone. I was immediately sent home to camp, where f 
