This was bad news, and I begged Messrs. Morgan and Bretto to stay the night with me. There was no time to be lost; I felt certain that the country had risen, and that in a few hours our communications would be cut, so I wrote to Manipur asking the Maharajah to send me 1000 men under Thangal Major at once to Moreh Tannah, to await events, and 500 to join me at Kendat, also a good supply of provisions. I telegraphed also to Government saying what had happened, and that I had taken every precaution, and that they might rely on my doing all that man could. I asked for no help, feeling that, if, with my present resources, I could not retrieve my position, I should soon be past help. I also wrote a few lines home, explaining matters in case I was killed, with a few last words to my children.
These letters I sent off by swift and trusty men well armed, with orders to push on with all speed. Having done this, I prepared for a life-and-death struggle next day.
As the morning broke and the heavy mist began to rise earlier than usual, we speedily saw the changed aspect of affairs. We had secured two boats under a guard the night before, but all besides had been taken from our side of the river. All the people had left a neighbouring village, but just below us we saw one boat after another leaving, heavily laden with the inhabitants and their portable goods. The opposite sandbank too, was occupied in force by the Burmese, who held our former entrenchment, and one or two small stockades. By this time also the country in our rear had risen, so we were completely cut off. The opposite bank was crowded with large boats, giving every opportunity to the enemy to send a strong party over to attack us by night, were he so disposed.
Immediate action was necessary, if only to save the British subjects, and the faithful Woon who had suffered in our cause. The good old Minister, Bularam Singh, quite lost his nerve, and begged and implored me to make terms and retreat, as the only means of saving ourselves. I told him that my very children and friends would despise me, if I, for a moment, contemplated such a course, and that there was nothing for it but to fight it out.
"Which man should you respect most?" I said, "one who cringed at your feet, or one who boldly struck you?" "The man who struck me," he replied. "Exactly so," I said; "and it is the same with the Burmese. I intend to strike a hard blow."