THE Forts of Covelong and Chingleput were
occupied by French garrisons.* It was determined
to send a force against them. But the only force
available for this purpose was of such a description,
that no officer but Clive would risk his reputation
by commanding it. It consisted of five hundred
newly-levied sepoys* and two hundred recruits who
had just landed from England, and who were the
worst and lowest wretches that the Company’s
crimps could pick up in the flash-houses in
London.*
Clive, ill and exhausted as he was, undertook
to make an army of this undisciplined rabble, and
marched with them to Covelong. A shot from the
fort killed one of these extraordinary soldiers;
on which all the rest faced about and ran away,
and it was with the greatest difficulty that Clive
rallied them. On another occasion the noise of a
gun terrified the sentinels so much that one of
them was found, some hours later, at the bottom
of a well.