become an affair of hours. Havelock had been selected for the task. Not less a military than a religious enthusiast, he had been for forty years preparing himself, by study and much varied service, for the realisation of his long cherished dream — the command of a British army in the field. Some derided his pietism, some his theoretic researches, some his care-worn features and emaciated frame; but Sir H. Hardinge had said of him: 'If ever India should be in danger, the Government have only to place Havelock at the head of an army, and it will be saved.' The moment had now arrived to test the truth of the prediction.
On the 7th July Havelock started from Allahábád, fought his way, through a series of fierce encounters, to the battlefield before Cawnpur, where the Náná — his hands red with European blood — was awaiting the advent of the avenging force. The resistance was long and fierce, but Havelock and Havelock' s army were in no mood to be resisted. In a few hours the rebels were rushing in confusion from the field; the Náná, who had been descried during the day riding from post to post, rallying his wavering ranks, was himself spurring hard to his refuge at Bithúr, and the inhabitants of Cawnpur, cowering at the retributive fury of the English, were streaming in panic out of the city into the surrounding country.
They well might fear, for Havelock's troops heard news next morning, and witnessed sights that even now cannot be recalled without a thrill of horror.
