Inspired by a wild fear
and fury, the sepoys ran about murdering or wounding every European they
met, and setting houses on fire, amid deafening shouts and uproar.
Meanwhile there were fatal delays in turning out the Europeans. The
Rifles were paraded for church, and time was lost in getting arms and
serving out ball cartridges. The Carabineers were absurdly put through a
roll-call, and then lost their way among the shops and gardens.
Meanwhile European officers were being butchered by the infuriated
sepoys. Men and women were fired at or sabred while hurrying back in a
panic from church. Flaming houses and crashing timbers were filling all
hearts with terror, and the shades of evening were falling upon the
general havoc and turmoil, when the Europeans reached the native lines
and found that the sepoys had gone, no one knew whither.
The truth was soon told. The mutiny had become a revolt; the sepoys were
on the way to Delhi to proclaim the old Mogul as sovereign of Hindustan;
and there was no Gillespie to gallop after them and crush the revolt at
its outset, as had been done at Vellore half a century before.
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