About four o'clock I was roused by a sound of the movement of horses and carriages, and almost immediately afterwards a note was placed in my hand. It was from Mr David Money. It ran as follows: 'Come over with M. at once; the regiments at Barrackpur have mutinied, and are marching on Calcutta. There is no time to be lost. We have a stone staircase, five good rifles, and plenty of ammunition. Come without delay.' Proceeding to the gate of my house, which was in Chauringhí, and commanded the plain as far as the glacis of the fort, I saw that plain covered with fugitives, some riding, some in carriages of sorts, some in palanquins, some running, some walking — men, women, and children all making for the nearest fort gate. It was a sight, once seen, never to be forgotten. Deeming that at such a crisis it was the duty of every Englishman to stay at his post, I declined the kind offer made me, and stood there for some time watching the extraordinary scene. I noticed, as I drove out that evening, that many of the houses near me were deserted, and that a terrible panic had taken hold of the Eurasians. I ascertained, too, that many high-placed officials had sent their families on board ship, that some of them had proceeded thither themselves, whilst others had been content to barricade their houses, to await, without undressing, the events of the night.
There was just this reason for the alarm. The native regiments at Barrackpur had contemplated rising on that day. The admirable foresight and energy of General Hearsey defeated their plans. That night, Saturday, he summoned, by express, the 78th Highlanders from Chinsurah. One wing of the regiment started at once, and though misled by a guide, reached Barrackpur at daybreak. The other wing came in about three hours later. At four o'clock in the afternoon Hearsey paraded the
