Lucknow, on the banks of the River Gomti, was the capital of Oudh. The state, annexed the year before in a move which caused great resentment amongst the Indians, was ready to rise and Lucknow itself was full of the hangers-on of the old regime who were eager to reverse their recent dispossession.
It was governed by Henry Lawrence who, with his brother John, had recently worked wonders in the Punjab. Lawrence knew the dangers of the British position in Lucknow and when mutiny swept through Oudh not long after the events at Meerut, he was reasonably well prepared.
He decided to make his stand inside the Residency compound and unlike Wheeler at Cawnpore he fortified it strongly. Into this 33 acre refuge Lawrence gathered the entire European community of Lucknow and a garrison of about 1,700 men. Half the defending force were sepoys who had remained loyal to the British.
Inside the Residency compound there were nine separate buildings and a high mud-wall strengthened by earthworks formed the perimeter. Lawrence had prepared the position as much as possible. Trenches and gunpits had been dug, wire-entanglements laid out and booby traps set.
Unfortunately, the Residency was almost in the centre of the city. On its eastern side stood the old palace of the kings of Oudh. To the north flowed the river. All round, however, were the narrow streets and lanes of the old city sometimes coming up to the very walls of the compound itself.
When the mutiny broke out in Lucknow toward the end of June, the sepoys did try to storm the walls but were always beaten back. Twice they breached the perimeter and British sallies to regain lost ground or eliminate strongpoints near the walls became necessary and commonplace. As at Cawnpore, the main problem was the constant barrage of artillery and musket fire that the mutineers were able to pour into the compound.
One of the first shells killed Lawrence when it crashed into the billiard room in which he was staying. On being asked if he was hurt, he replied, “I am killed.” He wasn’t just then, but he died two days later. His death was a great blow to the British and a creeping fatalism began to spread through the Residency.
A further misery was soon added to the sniping, the shelling and the direct assaults on the perimeter – the sepoys began tunnelling. Trying to undermine the walls, the charges the sepoys detonated sometimes exploded well inside the compound. The British were forced to counter-mine and some of the fiercest battles of the siege were fought deep in the hot clammy earth with pistols, shovels and fists.
Food started to run short, the casualties started to mount, rats swarmed everywhere and the July sun burned down on the now filthy, hungry and dispirited defenders. In the middle of August, a message reached Lucknow that told of a relief force beginning its march. Four days, the note promised, would see an end to their troubles. Welcome news indeed as the garrison had been reduced to 350 British soldiers and 300 loyal sepoys, with over 550 women, children, sick and wounded to look after. The four days came and went with no sign of any assistance. The days became weeks and still no-one came.
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