The Last Effort and Fall of Tipu Sultan by Henry Singleton
Plan of the attack on the north-west angle of Seringapatam.
Arthur Wellesley became brigade commander of the day at noon
on the 26th. He had already received orders to attack Tipoo’s line of outer
fortifications at or soon after sunset. This was not to be another Sultan-petah
Tope. Wellesley knew exactly what the position of the enemy was and how it was
defended. There were to be no surprises, at least not for the British. Wellesley
used a simple assault plan with two columns and fully discussed with his
subordinate commanders what they were to do.
On the left, next to the Cauvery, Major Skelly was to lead
four companies of his Scotch Brigade and four of the 2nd Bengal Native Infantry
forward from the British trenches into the northern anchor of Tipoo’s line of
defences and work south. Lieutenant-Colonel Monypenny was to move forward as
close as possible to the Little Cauvery with four companies of his 73rd and
four more of the 2nd Bengal, to enter the line of defences near its middle and
move south. The two columns easily carried this line of low fortifications.
Most of the defenders just left their positions and walked back across the
river which in late April was fordable at almost any place. Tipoo’s troops were
giving up not just the sections of their position actually attacked, but the
rest too even before Skelly and Monypenny reached them.
Wellesley also had under his command a reserve consisting of
‘the relief from the trenches’ – the troops who had garrisoned the trenches for
the previous twenty-four hours – under his friend Colonel Sher-brooke, also of
the 33rd. This reserve consisted of the King’s 74th and the Regiment De Meuron
plus some EIC units. Wellesley’s initial attacks had succeeded so well that he
sent Sherbrooke’s men forward against the Stone Bridge across the Little
Cauvery and against two works behind it usually referred to as the Ravelin and
the Circular or three-gun Battery. All three were taken almost as easily as the
line of works closer to the South Cauvery. Support for these enemy positions
had come from the recently abandoned trenches.
All the objectives were achieved so easily that without
orders to do so Lieutenant-Colonel Campbell of the 74th led some of his own
regiment and most of the Regiment De Meuron across the Periapatam Bridge to the
island of Seringapatam. Fortunately they did not try to go through the Mysore
Gate into the main defences. They captured a couple of field guns south of the
main walls inside Tipoo’s strong fortified camp, used them briefly against the
enemy, spiked them and returned across the Periapatam Bridge. Somewhere in this
attack Campbell lost his shoes, probably in crossing the Little Cauvery, and
had his feet cut so badly subsequently that he had to report himself a
casualty. His place was taken by Lieutenant-Colonel William Wallace, an officer
of whom we shall see a lot more.
The rest of this attack on the night of the 26th was not
quite so favourable to the British. Both the Ravelin and the Circular Battery
were open to fire from guns mounted in the main defences of Seringapatam, a
design of obviously French origin. Most of the enemy guns mounted around the
Mysore Gate and in the southern cavaliers were still undamaged because they
were out of the line of fire of the British batteries then in existence. These
pieces may even have been loaded and aimed in daylight, after the French
fashion, but left for use at night. Wallace and his men were subjected to
accurate and heavy artillery fire and a few minutes later to showers of small
arms bullets and rockets from the units of Tipoo’s army holding the area
between the Little Cauvery and the South Cauvery not yet attacked. Wallace
and/or Wellesley wisely decided to pull back into the eastern strip of the
Little Cauvery where their men would be protected by the embankment,
temporarily giving up the Stone Bridge, the Ravelin and the Circular Battery.
The fire from the walls was renewed at dawn, but Wellesley
attacked again. His units quickly tumbled every Mysore soldier out of the
entire area between the Cauverys. Every man appears to have had a musket and
bayonet in one hand and a pickaxe or shovel in the other. As soon as the enemy
was driven out, they dug in. Wellesley’s entire force was fully protected by
trenches or other defences by 10 a.m. The long assault had finally succeeded
beyond its original objectives, but it had been costly. Seventy-two men were
killed in the action, 226 wounded and nineteen reported missing. The fire from
the walls of Seringapatam was the main cause of the casualties.
Harris now had all the territory he could use in his future
operations on his side of the river. Breaching batteries were constructed at a
distance less than 400 yards from the main ramparts of Seringapatam. But this
was done carefully and in a manner to conceal from the enemy the exact point of
attack. On the night of 28 April the first actual breaching battery was begun
and filled with six 18-pounders. It opened fire on the 29th, but at the
north-west corner bastions, not at the walls to be breached. Battery No. 6,
also called the Nizam’s Battery, was added along with Nos 7, 8 and 9 for
various purposes, including the silencing of the guns in the southern cavaliers
during the next two nights. Thirty-nine of the forty siege guns originally
assembled by Wellesley at Vellore (one 18-pounder had been destroyed), plus
some big howitzers and field pieces were all in place somewhere in the siege
works. There were also fieldpieces south of the river and in a secondary
battery of Stuart’s, north of it.
Early in the morning of 2 May 1799 the Powder Mill, the
Nizam’s and No. 5 Batteries suddenly concentrated all their fire on the walls
where an actual breach was to be made. Two of the three batteries were 380 and
340 yards from their targets. The point chosen was in the west wall just south
of the already destroyed north-west bastions. At this point the glacis which protected
the entire northern wall and the north-west corner after a fashion – it was too
low to protect completely – was replaced by a forward curtain or vertical wall
which kept water in the outer ditch.
Solid cast-iron 18-pound balls, varied occasionally with
24-pound balls from the two larger pieces, tore up both curtains for more than
sixty yards. Save for a few inches, the water in the elevated outer ditch ran
into the South Cauvery. Here the main or outer wall of the city was smashed
back into the terreplein, or paved area, behind the rampart. The breach was
tentatively pronounced practical on the evening of the 3rd; in the technical
language of the day this meant that a man, encumbered only by a musket, bayonet
and cartridge box would be able to climb it. Such a conclusion is not always
easy to establish from a distance even with a telescope. There were the
additional difficulties of crossing the South Cauvery and the outer ditch.
Everyone thought that enough water had drained out of the latter to render it
useless, but no one was sure.
That night Arthur Wellesley was again in command in the
trenches and batteries. He and his command took on a heavy work load and
accomplished it all save for filling some sandbags. Some of his active young
officers carefully reconnoitred the South Cauvery over the entire front below
the breach and marked unobtrusively safe areas for fording. Enough space was
also provided and covered to allow a large assaulting force to be assembled
within the trenches and breastworks without revealing its presence to the
enemy.
Harris was determined that, if humanly possible, his first
assault should be successful. If necessary he was ready to throw his entire
army into the effort. His soldiers, both European and Indian, had been on somewhat
short rations for two weeks. The C-in-C was probably over-conscious of the food
situation; Floyd was to bring back Read and Brown with supplies from the
Baramahal and Coimbatoor right on schedule. The coming of the monsoon was much
more dangerous and beyond human control. The rains would quickly fill all
branches of the Cauvery and Seringapatam would be safe seventy-two hours after
they began. It was high time the British armies completed their work.
Tipoo had 30,000 fighting men in and around Seringapatam;
there was but a single breach through which to get at them after fording a
rocky stream 200 yards wide. The assault should be delivered at maximum power,
but too many men would get in each other’s way and would lead to more severe
casualties, and perhaps to failure. Throughout the campaign, Harris utilized
the abilities of his fine staff, but the master design was his own. He gave
Barry Close the essential details for a simple but flawless attack using all
available British manpower. Baird had volunteered to lead the assault; Harris
accepted his offer. The major-general’s height, strength and gallant
personality made him a favourite with all European troops who, when available,
always led assaults in British operations in India. They knew that he had spent
forty-four months in Tipoo’s dungeon without losing his spirit. No one in the
assembled allied armies was as suited to the task as Baird.
He would have two columns, each with its own commander and
objectives. The left column, led by Lieutenant-Colonel Dunlop from Stuart’s
army, would consist of all six flank companies from Stuart’s King’s regiments,
the whole of the King’s 12th and the King’s 33rd, and finally ten companies of
Bengal Sepoy flankers. There were fifty European artillerymen with a proportion
of gun Lascars attached to this column. There were also pioneers, fascines (in
this case, bundles of bamboo) and scaling ladders. The right column under
Colonel Sher-brooke consisted of the flank companies of the Scotch Brigade,
followed by those of the Regiment de Meuron, the entire King’s 73rd and 74th,
eight companies of Madras Sepoy flankers from the Hyderabad contingent and six
companies of Bombay Sepoy flankers. The column also included 200 men from Meer
Allum’s Hyderabad army. It had the same number of artillerymen and gun Lascars
assigned as on the left; pioneers, scaling ladders and fascines were
distributed in the same way.
Harris’s plan called for the two columns to remain concealed
in the trenches until Baird ordered the attack, probably at 1 p.m. They would
then come out, form, cross the river side by side and go up the breach
together. In the event that both columns could not cross the South Cauvery or
ascend the breach at the same time – unlikely after Wellesley’s careful
investigation on the night following 2 May – the left was to be in front. Once
up the breach and into the defences, the columns were not to enter the city but
to turn left and right respectively and circle the defences to the north and to
the south until they met somewhere on the opposite or east side. The idea was
to get possession of the entire defences before entering the city. Each
cavalier or bastion was to be taken and then garrisoned by a battalion company
from a European regiment before the column proceeded. Each column would advance
in formation of half companies at quarter distance, but would be preceded by
‘forlorn hopes’. In those days these small all-volunteer groups led the way.
Each was to consist of a sergeant with the colours and twelve lightly armed volunteer
privates followed by a lieutenant and twenty-five men noted for their personal
fighting prowess.
There was a third force in the trenches with the other two,
but to the rear. It was commanded by Arthur Wellesley and consisted of the
eight battalion companies of the EIC Swiss Regiment de Meuron and four EIC
battalions. As soon as the two main columns had crossed, Wellesley would
advance his force to the river. He was then to do everything possible to
reinforce any part of the attack that did not succeed, but was not needlessly
to crowd into the assaults. It may be significant that Wellesley was the only
subordinate commander authorized to use his own judgment. The total strengths
of these three commands were about 3,000 for Dunlop, about 2,800 for Sherbrooke
and at least 4,400 for Wellesley. Harris and Stuart were reduced to nearly the
minimum for holding their camps should Tipoo’s external forces attack.
Throughout the morning of the 4th the British guns continued
to play on the breach as if to improve it further – actually to prevent the
defenders from making it more difficult. There was little to indicate to an
observer inside Seringapatam that an attack was to be launched that day,
although a senior officer in Tipoo’s service who had begun his military career
with the British, Seyed Goffhar, did correctly interpret what he saw and warned
his chief of the impending assault.
Baird and his entire force had been in the trenches since
before dawn. The attackers were crowded together under a pitiless sun as the
morning wore on, and the heat must have become nearly unbearable. Not a man
stirred, however, until it was 1 p.m. by Baird’s watch. Only then did the huge
Scot rouse himself. Although his sweat-soddened uniform stuck to him, he
climbed out of the foremost trench and drew his regimental claymore. ‘Now, my
brave fellows!’ Baird said in his strong, deep voice. ‘Follow me and prove
yourselves worthy of the name British soldiers!’
The two columns quickly formed abreast in line of platoons
and began to move forward with Baird in front. Only the two forlorn hopes, a
total of seventy-six young men, were ahead of him. Baird was in his
forty-second year, worn by hardship and climate, and perhaps rather heavy for
scrambling about on wet rocks, but he kept in front and was ready to fight. His
face which never suntanned properly was as red as his uniform. As he reached
the top of the breach, he glanced towards the dungeon where he had spent
forty-four months. To his surprise he saw a new ditch filled with water and a
second wall.
As long as they dared the British batteries had continued to
fire to keep the enemy off the main Seringapatam walls and away from the
breach. They fell silent, however, as the assailants masked their line of fire.
The two forlorn hopes mounted the slippery debris that choked the breach and
began to split apart to the north and south respectively, but they were met by
a fair number of defenders who appeared and fought in the breach itself. In the
brief combat which ensued before all the enemy were killed, there were two
British casualties of more than usual interest. Sergeant Graham of Dunlop’s
forlorn hope, presumably the first man to climb the breach, was shot dead as he
unfurled his colours and announced himself ‘Lieutenant Graham!’ According to
the custom of the times he had won himself a commission. Dunlop himself was
badly wounded in the hand in a brief duel with a Mysore swordsman.
The European flankers who followed Graham, Baird and Dunlop
were too numerous and too impassioned to be stopped. With a viciousness some
officers had never seen before, they swept the enemy right out of the breach
itself and off the battlement at the top. It took only six or seven minutes.
Both columns continued to cross the Cauvery in water up to four feet deep, but
without difficulty save for receiving some long-range artillery fire. The climb
up the breach was relatively easy compared to what some had expected, but there
was considerable confusion at the top. There was not enough space to deploy
properly for all who crowded up.
Baird, not realizing that Dunlop was badly wounded, went
with Sherbrooke’s column which at that time appeared to have the more difficult
job. They moved towards the west wall towers and the heavy defences around the
Mysore Gate. Dunlop’s force minus its commander went around the north-west
corner of the outer wall – no one in the assaulting army had crossed the inner
ditch yet – and was immediately involved in a serious fight. They were opposed
in front by a frenzied group under a short fat officer that defended every
traverse. The officer himself kept firing loaded weapons that were handed to
him by his hunting servants. One of those who fell by this accurate fire was
Lieutenant Lalor of the King’s 73rd, the guide who on the night of 3 May did
most for Wellesley in exploring the ford and breach.
Dunlop’s men were not only meeting severe opposition in
front, but were also subjected to intense small arms fire from the inner wall
which was inaccessible to them because of the inner ditch. Even though the
European flankers of the Bombay army surged east along the outer wall through
and over a mass of broken guns, carriages and masonry, and over the new brick
traverses in the outer bastion, they were finally stopped by this fire from the
inner wall. It was particularly effective because the English on the inner side
of the outer wall were exposed and the enemy protected by the parapet on the
outer side of theirs. Captain Goodall of the King’s 12th, the first unit behind
the Bombay army flankers in the northern column, saw the difficulty and
discovered a narrow way across the inner ditch. He led his company across,
obviously one by one. For a time it was probably touch and go in bloody
hand-to-hand combat, but every few seconds another Englishman came into the
fight. Goodall’s men began to make headway faster and finally opposition
collapsed.
On the outer wall, the situation suddenly changed
drastically. The Bombay European flankers were no longer being fired on from
the flank, but their enemies were and after a few minutes gave way. They tried
to make a stand at the Sultan Battery, which surrounded Tipoo’s dungeons, but
were swept out of that also and forced into an area between the walls and the
North Cauvery. Here the fortifications are irregular; there was and is an
entrance into Seringapatam known as the Water Gate, actually a long tunnel
through an earth and masonry wall. This was soon being attacked from both ends
by British infantry firing platoon volleys. Some hand-to-hand fighting also
occurred.
Meanwhile Sherbrooke’s column had taken the Mysore Gate and
continued eastward against irregular opposition. Some strong points were
defended with considerable resolution, others were easily taken. Sherbrooke
secured both the inner and outer walls of Seringapatam on the south side and
reached the Bangalore Gate to the east within an hour. The left column
originally under Dunlop did equally well in the north. At the beginning they
were held up near the Water Gate, but they made faster progress thereafter. The
outer defences of Seringapatam were taken; however, about half of Tipoo’s
fighting men in and around the island had not yet been engaged. There was the
possibility that the enemy troops within the town might retreat into the
palace, which was a kind of incomplete citadel.
The idea of continued resistance at the palace seems to have
occurred to several British officers independently at about the same time,
among others to Majors Allan, the deputy Quartermaster-General, and Beatson,
the engineer and later historian. Resistance there would have been deplorable
for several reasons. In India prisoners were rarely taken in assaults, Tipoo’s
women would inevitably be maltreated and treasure would probably be lost. Allan
and Beatson briefly conferred with Baird and were ordered to go to the palace
and see if they could persuade the enemy to surrender. The two officers who
left immediately were just in time to prevent Major Shee with some companies of
the King’s 33rd from attacking the palace. The two young British officers went
in and managed to persuade the killadar, commandant of Seringapatam, and two of
Tipoo’s sons to surrender. The Sultan, however, was not there. After a delay a
search was made, but no Tipoo.
Back to Colonel Wellesley and his supporting force in the
trenches. He had his battalions ready in column at quarter distance to cross
the river, if either Dunlop or Sherbrooke needed assistance. Since neither was
held up for any appreciable time, no physical support was necessary. When this
became obvious Wellesley ordered his five battalions to break ranks and rest
easy. He sent some men to assist wounded who lay in the ford and posted a
cordon of Swiss infantrymen to seal off the breach. His sepoys were all from
Madras which had suffered a great deal from Mysore troops under Tipoo and his
father, Hyder Ali. Wellesley, however, wanted no vengeance or plundering of the
city.
This subject is important enough to be considered in more
detail. In Europe a town which refused to surrender after a breach into it was
practical belonged to the assaulting troops who took it. The soldiers who
incurred the risk of mounting a defended breach under fire and defeating the
garrison had a right to all the city contained, including its female
inhabitants. The Wellesleys were completely against this concept, especially in
India where the civilian population had nothing to do with political and
military decisions. Arthur Wellesley could do nothing about the troops already
in Seringapatam; he was not in command of them. But he was certainly not going
to allow his Madras sepoys the opportunity of participating in a brutal orgy.
The Regiment De Meuron was unusually well disciplined and could be trusted to
obey his orders.
Wellesley and half a dozen of his officers climbed the
breach and entered the city. The firing had died down to occasional bursts from
small arms. Some artillery fire from the eastern towers and cavaliers was not
directed towards British targets; the artillerymen who accompanied both
Dunlop’s and Sherbrooke’s columns had turned undamaged guns in these works
against Mysore infantry in Tipoo’s fortified camp outside the walls proper and
were forcing the enemy to leave the island by the Corighaut ford.
Not 300 yards away, Wellesley caught sight of a familiar
formation. Major Shee had the 33rd, or most of it, drawn up in front of Tipoo’s
inner palace. Baird and several other officers were impatiently awaiting the
reappearance of Allan and Beatson. Wellesley and his small group joined them
and heard the most recent news. The city was taken; organized resistance by
large units of the enemy appeared to be at an end.
Just then Allan and Beatson came out of the palace by the
main door; they had climbed in above ground level. The palace and several
hundred armed men would surrender, but Tipoo was not there. An informal
conference spontaneously came into being. Allan and Beatson communicated what
they had learnt inside, and Baird had just heard that Tipoo had murdered
thirteen English prisoners, including Wellesley’s eight grenadiers from the
thirty-third. In spite of this, the palace and those in it were not to be
harmed if there was no resistance. Tipoo, however, must be found before he was
able to escape and begin operations again in one of his outlying territories.
Finally one of Tipoo’s officers revealed that he knew where
the Sultan was. Shee and the 33rd less the Grenadier company were left to guard
the palace both to prevent those inside from getting out and the victorious
British soldiers from getting at Tipoo’s women and treasure. In the quickly
gathering shadows of an approaching Indian night Baird and his officers and the
Grenadier company followed their guide the short distance to the Water Gate.
Tipoo had fallen in the fighting there after taking a personal part in the defence
of the northern wall. He had been the short fat officer who fired a succession
of hunting weapons at the commanders of British units.
The tunnel-like passage was choked with dead and wounded,
and dozens of bodies were removed. Finally, a man dressed better than most was
brought out. He seemed relatively unhurt and could still be alive. Wellesley
put his hand over the man’s heart; there was no beat. The body was short and
corpulent with small hands and feet and dark skin, darker than usual for an
upper-class Indian. By torchlight the body was tentatively identified as Tipoo
and taken back to the palace in the Sultan’s palanquin. There a dozen people
who knew him well confirmed that it was truly the Sultan.
The assault was over; Tipoo was dead. No organized unit of
his army appeared to remain on Seringapatam Island. Two of Tipoo’s sons were on
their way to Harris’s camp escorted by the Light company of the 33rd. The city
was filled with extreme disorder, but this was not Wellesley’s responsibility.
He returned through the breach to his battalions still waiting outside and took
them back to their quarters. Having reported personally to Harris, he then
returned to his own tent. He had been in the same clothes for nearly sixty
hours during which he had had less than ten hours of sleep. Cold food, soap and
water, and a narrow camp bed were sheer luxury. He had done his jobs as well as
he was able; sleep came quickly. It was not even disturbed by the sporadic
firing, screams and snatches of drunken song which came through the glorious
Indian night from the newly-captured city.
