N. Francis Xavier
Part II — (Continued from last week)
The sentry, in spite of the blow to his head (delivered with no intention to kill), managed to get out of the water and run as fast as he could to the guardhouse.

All hell broke loose on Viper. The sergeant of the guard raised the alarm. The gun that announced a jail break was fired. Whistles and bugles were sounded. Guards and soldiers of the native infantry, under instructions from their officers rushed down to the sea shore and commenced firing in the general direction of the whaler.

But the whaler was already beyond the range of the smooth bored muskets of the guards. With the men pulling at the oars like demons the whaler leapt over the waves like a porpoise passing Dundas Point and heading towards Chatham Island.

“Long, up”, shouted Hemraj at the helm. “Come on boys, pull for your lives, pull for freedom, in, out, bend your backs…” he kept saying, as he steered the boat expertly.

It was already getting dark. A gale was blowing. The other boats in the harbour were all small skiffs and canoes, the whaler being the only good boat. As they tried to organize pursuit Mr. Portman, who lived in a house on the highest point of the island, came running down, jumped into a canoe and paddled away, all alone.

An hour and a half after the escape Colonel Cadell, V.C., the Chief Commissioner of the Andaman and Nicobar Islands and Superintendent of Port Blair, saw a blue light flashing from the signal tower on Chatham.

He was standing on the terrace of Government House on Ross Island, sipping his evening drink.

It meant an escape! Immediately he scribbled a note to Mr. Homfray, who was holding the charge of Harbour Master, asking him to get the steam up on the two steam barges. There were two in Port Blair, the Locust and the Lizard. A bearer took the message and ran to the residence of Jeremiah Nelson Homfray.

But Locust was in the dock at Phoenix Bay and Lizard had gone to Hope Town, as usual, to take in water from the aqueduct at Panighat.
The only boat capable of pursuit was the Chief Commissioner’s cutter, manned by 13 tall, strong Sikh oarsmen.

As Cadell contemplated what to do the frail form of MV Portman ran up the stairs to report the escape. He was completely drenched and panting from paddling all the way from Viper to Ross in a gale.

Cadell gave Portman some brandy and a change of clothing. Hetold him to take his cutter and go in a northerly direction, the usual direction taken by runaways. He should also take sufficient arms as Hemraj had a rifle and ammunition snatched from the guard. They should look carefully in the area around Ritchie’s Archipelago. The fugitives can’t go very far in this weather. He would send the steam barge to pick him up in the morning. The search would be taken up by others during the day.

By the time Portman came down to the jetty the cutter was already manned and ready for sea. Portman took his place next to the coxswain and gave directions. They were to scour the sea around Neill and Havelock Islands. If possible they would search Sir John Lawrence and Henry Lawrence also, islands named after generals of the Mutiny fame.

The sea was rough and the night dark, but the Sikh oarsmen took the oars and pulled away chasing an invisible target in the vast expanse of the Bay of Bengal. They passed the North Point lighthouse, the only visible landmark. Using a pocket compass Portman gave directions. All that they could see were the white crests of the waves as the gale intensified.

Colonel Cadell weighed other options as he sat in his office in Government House. He summoned Capt. Birch and Maj. Currie, who commanded the garrison along with their subordinate officers. Homfray was already there.

A jail break was a serious matter. He will have to give a long explanation to the Governor General. It would tarnish his image as a strict and efficient Superintendent of the penal colony and bring down his reputation in Calcutta.

Homfray gave the status of all the boats and ships in port.The only ship in port was a schooner named Constance, a sailing ship. But her two officers were just boys with no certificate of competency. Cadell asked Homfray also to go with them as he was once a sailor himself. The ship would cruise about in the archipelago.

Nobody slept of Ross that night. All available manpower was mustered at the jetty. In pouring rain they awaited news or report of a gun signaling the capture of the runaways. (to be continued -)

 

By. Francis Xavier Neelam

Guns fell silent on the Western Front at 11 o’clock on the 11th day of the 11th month of 1918, marking the end to the First World War, one of the bloodiest in the history of mankind. An Armistice was signed between the Allies and Germany to stop all hostilities on the Western Front, coining the term “All quiet on the Western Front”. However, hostilities continued on other fronts for another two years.

In terms of human casualties the First World War remains the greatest ever, reaping a grim harvest of roughly eight million lives. During a battle at Somme on 1st July 1916 Britain suffered 58,000 dead and injured, making it a record for battlefield casualties on a single day. The real figures remain unknown as maintaining systematic records was not possible due to the magnitude of the war and the poor communications at that time.

November 11, 2008 marks the 90th anniversary of the end of the Great War — “The War to End All Wars”, as it was then called. Ninety years have passed but the memories of the war still linger on.

At least 15 lakh Indian soldiers fought in the First World War. The number of those who died varies from 43,000 to 65,000. Most of the dead lie buried where they fell, mainly in the trenches on the various fronts where they fought. The touching letters from Indian soldiers on the front reveal the hardships they faced, with very little hope of returning from the war alive.

The short story Usne Kaha Tha by Chandradhar Sharma Guleri is based on the lives of Indian soldiers on the Belgian front. It tells the story of Lehna Singh who sacrifices his life trying to save the lives of his Subedar and his son, to keep the word he gave to the Subedar’s wife who was his childhood sweetheart.

Twelve Victoria Crosses were awarded to Indian soldiers during the war. Sepoy Khudadad Khan was the first Indian to be awarded the VC for conspicuous bravery.

After the end of the war Armistice Day continued to be observed as a national holiday in many of allied nations to allow people to commemorate those members of the armed forces who were killed during war. Memorials were built to commemorate the Victory and also to remember those who sacrificed their lives. Two minute silence was observed at 11.00 a.m. as a mark of respect to the “Glorious Dead” followed by ceremonies. It was scrupulously observed in the colonies, which contributed a significant chunk of the fighting forces. Life came to a stand still at 11.00 a.m. on 11th November every year, when the gun fired. Ships stopped their engines, machines stopped in the places of work, vehicles stopped in their tracks, people stopped at work or on the road.

Armistice Day is being observed as Remembrance Day or Veterans Day in many Commonwealth countries today. People wear a red poppy on the lapel of their coats in memory of those who laid down their lives in the war. Special services and parades are held in some countries.

A special order used to be issued for the observance of Armistice Day in Port Blair. People gathered in an orderly manner around the War Memorial (Ghanta Ghar for us today) in the heart of the city. The military personnel turned out in their uniforms. When the gun boomed on Ross Island all fell silent; the troops came to attention; the bugler sounded the Last Post; the parade commander saluted. When Reveille was sounded after two minutes wreaths were laid on the memorial and a service read out. The Scottish bagpipers played a haunting ‘lament’ on their pipes. A few in the crowd shed tears remembering the ‘Glorious Dead’, whose names are inscribed on the memorial.

Five names are inscribed on the plaque — Captain E.B. Fawcett, Formerly Assistant Commandant, Military Police, Subadar Muzammal Khan, Naik Mangat Chand, No 2312, Lance Naik Ali Sher, No. 2795, Sepoy Feroze No. 2809. They all went out from these islands and died in some faraway lands between 1914 and 1920.

Similar war memorials can be seen in many cities of India which sent their men to the warfront, in memory of those who did not return. They all have a large clock in them, most of them still in excellent working condition. The biggest memorial is the India Gate in Delhi on which the names of all the Indian soldiers who fell in action during the First World War are engraved.

Thousands of people pass around the Clock Tower in Port Blair everyday, but not many are aware of its history nor do they care to read the names written on it.

 

By Francis Xavier Neelam

The mail steamer had just come in and dropped anchor in front of Ross Island. The pilot launch raced to its side, and the harbour master clambered up the rope ladder. He collected the mail bag meant for the Chief Commissioner and handed it to a uniformed orderly. The giant Sikh rushed to Ross, jumped on a horse at the jetty and galloped to the Government House, where he handed over the bundle to Maj. Birch, the un-official Secretary to the Chief Commissioner.

Maj.Birch was dressed smartly in a starched khaki uniform. He enjoyed his position as the confidant of many Chief Commissioners. People disliked him for it. During Gen. Barwell’s time he was even reprimanded for being quarrelsome.

Birch took out the letters and arranged them in a neat pile which he placed in a leather folder in the order of their importance. On the top he placed a letter carrying the seal of the Home Secretary Sir C.J. Lyall. He knew that Col. Cadell, V.C., the Chief Commissioner and Superintendent of the penal settlement of Andaman & Nicobar Islands was anxiously waiting for it.

A uniformed orderly came down the stairs to announce that the CC was on his way. He brought a bundle of files and placed them on the huge teak table. He wiped the leather upholstered chair and the table top with a cloth, checked the newly installed electric fan and table lamp, opened the windows and spread a fresh white towel on the back of the chair. He also checked the attached bathroom to see if the water cistern was full or not.

Foot steps on the wooden staircase heralded the arrival of Col. Cadell. Two armed Sikhs in ceremonial dress marched in step before him. They halted in front of the tall doors of the office, turned and saluted. Cadell, dressed in immaculate white drill suit and sun helmet returned the salute and entered the office. Birch sprang to attention and saluted while the orderly pulled the chair back for Cadell to sit at the table.

Cadell returned Birch’s greeting and settled in the chair. He seemed to be in a jovial mood. His sailing boat Greyhound has won the annual regatta again. He was very proud of his boat and his Sikh body guards. As soon he sat down his eyes fell on the Home Secretary’s letter.

“Ah Bill! I hope Allauddeen gets it this time…”, he remarked as he slit the envelope with an ivory paper knife.

“I too hope so sir”, Birch replied as Cadell started to read the letter.

Cadell’s face clouded. He pulled at his walrus moustache in irritation and anger.

“My dear Cadell,” the letter said. “In reply to your demi-official letter of 9th August last, regarding conditionally released convict Moulvie Ala-ud-din,” wrote Lyall in his flowing handwriting, “I am desired to express the regret of the Governor General in Council that he is unable (the words ‘for political reasons’ were written and struck off) to sanction the absolute release of the convict from the Andamans”.

The letter was signed on 12 October 1889, at Simla.

Cadell stood up and stamped the floor in anger. He curse loudly, “That damned Vizier of the Nizam…its his work”.

Birch knew the reason for Cadell’s anger. Over the last few years Cadell had sent many letters to the government for the absolute release of Moulvie Allauddin of Hyderabad. He even met Salar Jung, the Prime Minister of the Nizam, during a conference in Simla and pleaded his case. Finally he decided to send a DO letter to his friend JC Lyall hoping he could do something. But, it appeared from the struck off portion of the letter, that political reasons were responsible for denying absolute release to the poor Moulvie. The letter meant that the Moulvie will die in the Andamans, without any hope of returning to his native place or seeing his loved ones.

Why was Col. Cadell, known for his penchant for hanging people, especially Mutiny convicts, taking such personal interest in the release of the prime accused in the attack on the Hyderabad Residency? What did Allauddin do to make Cadell write so many letters for his release.

The answers to these questions reveal the strange camaraderie that existed between the convicts and the jail authorities in the Andamans during the penal era.

Strangely, convicts branded as most dangerous by the government or the princely states that transported them were the most favoured by the prison authorities. They became trusted servants, orderlies, clerks, scribes and confidants. They were rewarded with promotions, land grants, remission of sentence and even an early release from the penal settlement.

The political prisoners, on the other hand, were treated as most dangerous by the jail officers. While an ordinary convict, usually a murderer, could get a ticket-of-leave or even absolute release after serving for about fifteen years while the politicos or the Mutiny convicts were not released even after serving their full term. Recommendations for their release were repeatedly turned down by the government citing the reason that their return may lead to a revival of seditious activities in the state.

Maulvie Allauddin was one such. Because of his good conduct and great learning he was in the good books of the Superintendents right from the time of his arrival in the Islands.

The reason for Maulvie Allauddin’s presence in the Andamans goes back to the happenings in Hyderabad, the capital of the Nizam’s dominions, on the 17th of July 1857.