Chapter 500: A Different Third Anglo-Mysore War
Not far to the north, an Indian-style palanquin was slowly moving toward the British camp. The area around Seringapatam was flooded with water and mud, making it difficult for even horses to travel, so most movement had to rely on human-powered palanquins.
Soon, Wellesley saw the very man he had been thinking about—Indian Governor Cornwallis—step out of the palanquin, using one of the bearers as a step. Despite a mat being laid on the ground, mud splashed all over his legs.
"I was just about to send someone to ask about the remaining supplies on your side, and here you are," Wellesley said as he took off his gloves and moved forward to embrace the governor. "I hope you bring good news."
"I have one good piece of news and one bad one," Cornwallis said, shaking mud from his boots. He glanced at the chair outside the command tent and asked, "Mind if I sit here?"
"Of course not. It's prepared just for you," Wellesley signaled to a servant to bring another chair from inside the tent and sat across from the governor. "Please, tell me the bad news first."
Cornwallis lifted his leg for a servant to wipe the mud from his pants and pointed to the teapot on the table. "May I have a cup as well? This cursed weather... but I'll tell you the good news first—it's quick to get through."
"As you wish. But it sounds like it's more bad news."
"Savanur has delivered dried meat and rice. Yes, cursed rice again. There's almost no wheat, so no bread," Cornwallis said. "However, this food will last the army until October."
Savanur was a province in southern Maratha, bordering Mysore. With British supplies blocked at Malabar Port, the army could only get food from Maratha territory. But all they could provide was food—things like weapons, medicine, wine, horses, and even tents had to be shipped from Europe by the British.
Cornwallis picked up the tea cup, his face turning somber.
"The bad news is that the four transport ships that arrived at Malabar Port two months ago will be the last.
"The East India Company's board of directors has decided not to invest any more funds into the Far East battlefield. In fact, the company's negotiators should be arriving in North Canara soon."
Wellesley didn't seem too surprised and looked at the governor.
"So, we don't have much time left to organize an attack?"
He had already learned that the East India Company had invested 3.2 million pounds in the Mysore campaign, which exceeded the company's annual tax payments to the British government.
This had resulted in the company making virtually no profit this year, with significant impact expected next year. Rumor had it that the company's stock price had dropped sharply because of it.
So it was no surprise that the board had decided to cut their losses.
Cornwallis nodded. "By the end of this year at the latest, the expeditionary force will have to return to Britain, or we won't even be able to pay the soldiers."
"I understand. Then we'll make the final push once the heavy artillery arrives."
A month and a half later.
Tipu Sultan stood in the pouring rain, looking toward his guard captain.
"Is the location confirmed?"
"Yes, great Sultan, the British cannons are two miles ahead."
Tipu Sultan nodded, then unsheathed his sword and shouted to the 1,700 elite guards around him:
"Those infidels killed our families and friends. They threw innocent children into boiling pots!
"Now they want to invade Seringapatam, and we must not let that happen!
"If you want to protect your families and save your children from becoming food for the British, follow me and use your swords to send them back to hell!"
Thanks to previous propaganda from the Mysore consul Salah, the British were now seen as demons throughout Mysore. It was widely believed that every British soldier ate a child each week to maintain their strength and courage.
This rumor had even spread to Hyderabad, Carnatic, and other British-controlled princely states. Three months ago, a group of villagers from Uttara Yagiri killed two passing British soldiers out of fear that they would steal children for food.
As a result, the people of Mysore were now united in their hatred of the British, willing to fight to the death.
The rain stopped.
Marquis Wellesley waited for the ground to dry slightly before ordering an advance with 5,000 British troops at the core, leading 30,000 Maratha soldiers toward Seringapatam.
At the same time, Cornwallis led 4,000 British troops from the north, along with over 30,000 soldiers from Indian princely states, launching a pincer attack on Seringapatam.
The British 12-pound cannons began to roar. Seven cannons fired at their maximum rate, unleashing a barrage that suppressed the Mysore cannons stationed a kilometer away. Tipu Sultan's forces only had ten 8-pound cannons spread across the defenses outside the city, while the rest were 4-pound cannons with much shorter range compared to the British heavy artillery.
By around 4 p.m., Tipu Sultan, leading nearly 2,000 Mysore soldiers, suddenly appeared from the rear flank of the British artillery and launched an attack on the cannons, which were firing furiously.
The British infantry assigned to guard the cannons were caught off guard by the ambush and hurriedly beat their drums to organize a defense.
Tipu Sultan had slipped through the gap between the British and Maratha forces during the rainstorm. Familiar with the terrain and aided by the poor visibility caused by the heavy rain, his movements went completely unnoticed.
Leading the charge, Tipu Sultan didn't bother with muskets, instead wielding his curved sword as he and his elite guards stormed the British infantry line.
These 1,700 men were his finest soldiers, all battle-hardened and fierce. Despite suffering three volleys of fire from the British line, they pushed through and hit the British right flank. Fortunately for them, the British formation was not fully organized due to the surprise attack, making the volleys less effective.
After losing about 300 men, the Mysore forces managed to break through the British infantry line. A thousand of them stayed behind to hold off the Maratha reinforcements, while the others hammered iron nails into the cannon breeches, disabling them.
Meanwhile, Tipu Sultan's eldest son, Nawaz, led 50,000 Mysore soldiers in a frontal clash with the British forces.
Thanks to the earlier training by Lafayette, these soldiers were far better disciplined and organized than the armies of other Indian princely states.
As long as they weren't directly facing the British "Redcoats," the Mysore defensive line remained solid, and they even launched counterattacks in some areas.
When the British arrived, they would exchange a few volleys, then swiftly retreat, leaving the rear units to continue stalling. The terrain around Seringapatam provided plenty of defensive high ground across a stretch of over ten miles.
Back at Tipu Sultan's position, after destroying six of the British 12-pound cannons and several other pieces of artillery, reinforcements from Wellesley's forces finally arrived.
Glancing at the darkening sky, Tipu Sultan immediately ordered a retreat.
This was his signature style—extreme risk-taking and daring ambushes. Historically, it was through this kind of warfare that he managed to hold off the British, the world's dominant power, in southern India for several years.
(End of Chapter)
Friends, if you want to read chapters in advance, subscribe to my patreon.
Read 20 Chapters In Advance: patreon.com/johanssen10