As there seemed no obstacle to their going out Angus joined his captors. He could see on the snow which covered the plain below, the dark masses of the troops surrounded by a host of camp followers, while beyond these hovered hordes of Afghans. From time to time horsemen rode in, evidently delivered some message, and then went off again.
The departure of the troops had been fatally delayed. It was ordered to begin at eight o'clock in the morning, and at that hour they stood to their arms. The day was clear and bright, and although four miles from the camp, Angus could clearly see what was going on. Although it was now two in the afternoon, only a portion of the troopshad left the camp, and it was not till six o'clock, when night had already fallen, that the rear-guard left it.
Already confusion had set in; the ranks of the soldiers were broken up by the terrified camp followers, and presented the appearance of a vast mob rather than an organized army. Had they started at the hour fixed they might have reached Khoord Cabul in safety, but the loss of time was fatal. Only six miles were accomplished, and it was two o'clock in the morning before the whole gathered, when it was seen that their numbers were already diminished. The wretched camp followers, accustomed to the heat of the plains of India, and thinly clad, were the first to succumb. Hundreds, especially of women and children, sat down in the snow and were frozen to death. Already the Afghans were hanging on the flanks, and sometimes making rushes and cutting down many of the unresisting multitude.
Soon after two o'clock a native came up to the hut and delivered an order to the Afghans, who at once cut up the remainder of the sheep, and divided it between them. Then their leader said, "We are to move." The ropes that bound the prisoners were loosened. One end was tied round the wrist of each captive, the other being wound round the waist of an Afghan, allowing a slack of a yard and a half. As soon as this was done the party moved off. They descended the hill for some distance, and then followed the lower slopes in the direction in which the army was moving. They kept on till long after midnight, and then halted at a deserted hut. Far behind them they could see the flames of the burning cantonments, which had been fired by the Afghans as soon as they had removed everything of the slightest value. In the morning Angus saw that their halting-place was high up above the entrance of the Khoord Cabul Pass. There was as yet no sign of the army, but in theafternoon it was seen approaching in a confused mass. The night had been a dreadful one; soldiers and camp followers, horses and baggage and cattle were huddled in a confused mass. No warm clothes had been served out to the followers, and hundreds were frozen to death during the night, while others were so badly frost-bitten that they were unable to walk.
As soon as the troops started again the Afghan horsemen attacked the rear, seizing the baggage, capturing the guns, and cutting down all they encountered. At noon Akbar Khan, with six hundred horsemen, rode up. Pottinger sent Captain Skinner with six horsemen to communicate with him. Akbar said that he had been sent out by the Nawab to protect them from the attacks of the Ghazees. His instructions were to demand other hostages as security for the evacuation of Jellalabad, and to arrest the progress of the force, supplying it in the meantime with everything it required, until news of the evacuation of Jellalabad by Sale was received. The troops, however, did not halt until they reached the entrance of the Cabul Pass. The night was even more dreadful than the preceding day had been. The Sepoys burned their caps and accoutrements to obtain a little warmth, and numbers were frozen to death. At daybreak the crowd of soldiers and camp followers began to push forward, their only thought now being how to escape death.
Akbar Khan spent some hours in negotiations. Four more hostages were demanded; Pottinger volunteered to be one of them, Captain Lawrence had been specially named, and Pottinger chose Mackenzie as the third. It was agreed that the force should move down through the Khoord Cabul Pass to Tezeen, there to await tidings of the evacuation of Jellalabad.
CHAPTER XVI
ANNIHILATION OF THE ARMY
Interrible confusion the crowd of fugitives—they were now nothing more—all entered the terrible pass. The Ghilzyes at once commenced their attack. In vain did Akbar Khan and his chiefs endeavour to restrain the fanatics. From the hillsides, from every rocky crag they opened a murderous fire. That day three thousand men fell, either from the musket fire or from the knives of the Afghans. The dooly-bearers had all deserted on the first day, the greater portion of the camels and ponies had been captured. So far the ladies had escaped; they all rode next to the advanced guard, as this was considered the safest point, for the soldiers here maintained some sort of order, and the Afghans, therefore, devoted their attention to the helpless crowd in the rear. Again the column halted in the snow.
In the morning the camp followers made another rush ahead, but the troops, who were ordered to march at ten o'clock, did not move, for in spite of all the remonstrances of the officers, the general countermanded the order, believing that Akbar Khan would send in provisions and troops to protect them. Another terrible night was passed, and then Captain Skinner rode into camp with a new proposal from Akbar Khan, namely, that all the English ladies of the force should be placed under his charge, and that they might be accompanied by their husbands. Pottinger remembering that Akbar Khan's family were in the hands of the British, and believing that he was sincere in his wish to save the ladies and children from destruction, sanctioned the proposal. Elphinstone at once accepted it. It was the choice of two evils. On the one hand Akbar Khan hadproved faithless, and on the other certain death awaited the ladies. They were insufficiently clad, had scarcely tasted food since they left Cabul, and had passed three terrible nights in the snow. Undoubtedly it was the wiser course to trust them to Akbar Khan. Accordingly a party of Afghan horse rode in, and Lady Macnaghten, Lady Sale, and ten other ladies, some twenty children, and eight officers rode away under their escort.
The next morning the survivors started. The Sepoys had already lost the greater portion of their numbers; the remainder threw away their guns, which they could no longer use owing to their hands being frost-bitten, and joined the disorganized rabble in front. They were attacked in a narrow gorge, and the pass was soon choked with dead and dying. Not a single Sepoy survived. Of the sixteen thousand men, soldiers and camp followers, that had left Cabul four days before, not more than a quarter were now alive. Akbar Khan watched the slaughter that was going on, declaring that he was powerless to restrain the Ghilzyes, whom even their own chiefs could not control. He advised that the remnant of the British army should lay down their arms and place themselves under his protection. The general very properly refused the offer, for Akbar Khan had already acknowledged that he was incapable of restraining the tribesmen.
The march was continued. The rear-guard was commanded by Shelton, and nobly they did their work, repulsing several attacks of the enemy, and giving time for those ahead to pursue their way. Before daybreak they started again in hopes that they might reach Jugduluk that day. Despair gave the soldiers strength, and they moved off quietly in order to obtain a start of the camp followers, who paralysed their action. The latter, however, were soon on their feet, and as usual endeavoured to push on aheadof the troops. For some miles the retreat was uninterrupted, but presently a heavy fire opened on the rear-guard. The camp followers then rushed in a tumultuous crowd past the troops, and when, a little later, the head of the column was attacked, they again fled to the rear, not only hampering the movements of the soldiers, but carrying many of them away by the impetus of their rush. Steadily until day broke the Afghan marksmen maintained their fire. Soon afterwards the advanced guard reached a village ten miles from Jugduluk, and halting only till the rear-guard came up again pushed forward. Shelton, with a handful of the rear-guard, kept the Afghans at bay, and covered the retreat until all arrived in Jugduluk, where they took their post behind some ruined walls. There was, however, little rest for them; the Afghans, in ever-increasing numbers, posted themselves on the heights and opened a terrible fire. Three bullocks were found among the camp followers; these were instantly killed and served out to the famishing soldiers, who devoured them raw. Again Akbar's party approached, and Captain Skinner went out to remonstrate with him for permitting the continued attacks, but the Afghan prince declared himself incapable of repressing his men, as his orders were disregarded.
A handful of the 44th Regiment issued out and made a gallant rush at the enemy and drove them back, but as the main body did not follow their example, they again retired behind the ruined walls. All night long and through the next day the force remained at Jugduluk. Akbar Khan sent in a message inviting the general, Shelton, and Captain Johnson to a conference, and promised to send in provisions. This promise he as usual broke, and insisted on retaining the three officers as hostages.
The conference was resumed the next morning. Akbar now seemed in earnest in his desire to put a stop to theslaughter; but the petty chiefs of the tribes between Jugduluk and Jellalabad were now present, and these would listen neither to his entreaties nor commands, nor to the offer of large sums of money. They thirsted for blood, and were determined to extirpate the infidels. Mahomed Shah Khan, to whose daughter Akbar was married, then came forward and asked whether the British would pay two lacs of rupees for safe-conduct to Jellalabad. The general agreed to this, and it seemed that at last the safety of the survivors was ensured. At eight o'clock in the evening the survivors, who now numbered but a hundred and twenty of the 44th and twenty-five artillerymen, again set forth. No provisions had been sent in during the two days' halt, and all were terribly reduced by famine. The Afghans rushed down among the camp followers, killing them unresistingly. The soldiers, however, held together, and, bayonet in hand, drove off their assailants until they reached the Jugduluk Pass. They struggled up the narrow and terribly steep ascent until when near the summit they came upon a barricade composed of bushes and branches of trees. Here the column was thrown into great confusion, the camp followers crowding upon the soldiers. The latter fought with desperation, while the Afghans massacred the unresisting camp followers.
Twelve officers fell here. Their number was large in proportion to that of the men. They had been no better clothed, and had suffered equally from cold and hunger; but they did not give way to the depression that during the first two marches had reigned among the troops. They were upheld, too, by the feeling of responsibility, and the necessity of keeping up an appearance of cheerfulness and hopefulness in order to encourage the men. After desperate fighting some twenty officers and twenty-five soldiers managed to break their way through the barricade, and at daybreakreached Gundamuck. There were but two rounds of ammunition remaining in the men's pouches. Most of them were already wounded, but they were resolute not to lay down their arms, and when called upon to do so they refused. Then the mob of Afghans rushed down upon them. One officer and a few privates were taken prisoners, but seven officers succeeded in cutting their way through, and being mounted, left the Afghans behind them, and reached Futtehbad, but sixteen miles from Jellalabad. Here, however, they were attacked by the peasantry. Two were cut down at once; the others rode off, but were pursued and overtaken. Four of them were killed, and one only, Dr. Brydon, reached Jellalabad alive, the sole survivor of four thousand five hundred fighting men and twelve thousand camp followers, with the exception only of those who had been taken over by Akbar as hostages.
This, the greatest disaster that ever befell a British army, was due to the vacillation and weakness that had characterized every action since the murder of Sir Alexander Burnes. Had the force pressed forward at once on the morning when it left its cantonment, the greater portion would probably have reached Jellalabad, but two days had been lost before the army reached Khoord Cabul Pass, about ten miles from the city. There were fresh halts, fresh delays, fresh futile negotiations again and again, and during the time thus thrown away the enemy from all the mountains round were gathering in the passes to oppose them, and building the fatal barricade in the pass of Jugduluk. Had the force pushed forward with only an occasional halt of a few hours, they would not have been enfeebled by hunger. By slaying the baggage animals an abundance of food could have been obtained for all, the opposition they encountered would have been comparatively feeble, and cold would havebeen their only formidable antagonist. Truly it seemed that a curse had fallen upon the army; that it was Divine retribution for a most unjust and iniquitous war.
Each day Angus and his followers had been taken along, always being halted in positions whence they could see the terrible tragedy that was being enacted. Angus was half mad with grief and with fury that he was not in his place among the troops. Azim in vain endeavoured to comfort him, by pointing out that it was not his fault that he was not there, but that he had been sent away from the army by the order of his superior; and that even had he not been taken prisoner, he would not be a sharer in what was going on in the pass.
"That is true, Azim, but it is a poor consolation to me. I feel sure that Pottinger foresaw what would happen, and that it was as an act of friendship, in giving me a chance of getting through safely, that he sent me down. It was no doubt kindly meant, but I would a thousand times rather have shared the fate of the rest."
"Well, master, for my part I own that I am glad we are up here. I have no wish to be killed, especially as it would do no good to anyone. Why should a man throw away his life? Allah has given it to us, and we shall die when our time comes. But it would be wicked to throw it away uselessly."
"It is all very well to talk like that, Azim, when one is in safety, but when one sees one's comrades being slaughtered, a man would not be worthy of the name did he not long to be with them and to die fighting by their side. Indeed, we know not at present whether our lives are to be saved. We know not into whose hands we have fallen, or why we should thus be taken along to be spectators of this massacre. The whole thing is bewildering to me."
mad
ANGUS WAS HALF MAD WITH GRIEF AND WITH FURY THAT HE WAS NOT IN HIS PLACE AMONG THE TROOPS
They now generally conversed in Persian. Their guards,although keeping as strict a watch as ever on them, interfered with them but little. Fortunately the worst scenes took place at night, and were therefore hidden from those on the hill, the incessant rattle of musketry alone telling of the relentless pursuit. On the night of the 12th the roar of fire had been louder than ever. At last it ceased suddenly. Angus and his guards alike remained awake, Angus listening in agony to the sounds of the combat, the Afghans talking together in low tones.
"What do you think has happened?" he asked them when some minutes had passed without the sound of a shot being heard.
"Either Akbar Khan has succeeded in persuading the Ghilzye chiefs to spare what few there are left of the infidels, or the last man has been slain."
Angus felt that the latter was by far the more probable solution, and throwing himself down on the ground he burst into tears. The eight days of mental suffering had shaken him terribly, and now, feeling that his worst fears had been realized, he broke down altogether. Before daybreak his captors moved some distance farther up into the mountains, and by the cautious manner in which they made their way, often pausing to look back and round, Angus concluded that they were desirous of avoiding all contact with their countrymen. He had indeed before observed how careful they were to avoid the Afghans scattered on the hillside, and he now concluded that they must be taking him to the tower of the chief, to be dealt with as he might direct, either shot at once or held by him as a hostage, for whose delivery he might obtain a handsome sum should the British again advance up the passes.
All day they travelled among the hills. At last they came upon a large village. There were no men about, doubtless all had gone to take part in the fray. The women came outand eagerly questioned them as to the fighting on the night before.
"We know nothing," the leader said. "We believe that the last of the infidels has fallen, but we know nothing for certain."
Without pausing they took the two prisoners, whose appearance had created no surprise, as they were taken for natives, to the chief's tower, a much larger building than the abodes of most of the petty chiefs. Standing upon a crag of rock, it overlooked the village; entrance was only obtainable by a ladder leading to a door some thirty feet above the rock. Their coming had been observed. An old man stood at the door.
"So you are back, Suffyd?"
"Yes, as you see. Has the chief returned?"
"No; it is two weeks since we saw him last. He started then with all the fighting men from here and the other villages; but I expect it will not be long before he returns, for, from what we have heard, the work must be nearly done."
The party ascended the ladder, and the leader spoke a word or two with the old man, who looked greatly surprised. The captives were taken into a room, which by its furnishing was evidently one of the chief's private apartments.
"You are free to move about the house," the leader said, "but you must not leave it."
In a few minutes a woman entered, bringing a dish of boiled grain with portions of mutton in it. She gave the usual Afghan salutation. She was followed by another woman with a jug of water, two mugs, and a bottle. These were placed on a low table, and then without another word they left the room. A minute later they returned with a large earthenware dish full of burning charcoal.
"This is a good beginning, Azim," Angus said, his spiritsrising at the sight of the hot food; for although they had not been actually starved, they had been on extremely short rations when their supply of flour was exhausted, their captors being, like themselves, reduced to a handful of unground grain each day. "This does not look as if they meant to cut our throats. Evidently our Afghan is acting under orders. Those orders must have been that we were to be well treated."
They ate a hearty meal; then Angus said:
"See what there is in that bottle, Azim."
The cork had already been taken out, and Azim poured some of the liquor into a tin, and handed it to his master. The latter smelt it.
"It is Afghan spirits," he said, "the same as they sell in the bazaars in Cabul."
He filled it up with water, and drank it off.
"Now, Azim, do you do the same."
Azim, who was not a very strict Mohammedan, and had more than once tasted the forbidden drink at Cabul, needed no pressing.
"Well, master," he said, as he put the cup down, "after all this is better than lying dead and frozen down in the pass."
Angus, warmed with the good meal and by the draught that he had taken, could not disagree with his follower.
"I begin to think that you are right, Azim, though I did not believe so yesterday. It is certain that had I joined my countrymen I should have perished with them, and assuredly I have been saved from eight days of awful suffering and from death—if, indeed, we are saved from death."
"I think we can feel certain of that, master. This is not the way the Afghans treat a man whose throat they intend to cut. They certainly do not make a pillau for him, or provide him with a bottle of spirits."
"Do you know, I have been thinking, Azim," Angus said after a short silence, "that if it had been possible for Sadut Khan to know that we intended to leave camp in disguise, this might be his work again. But he could not have known it. No one but you and I, and Major Pottinger, and the three or four officers to whom I said good-bye, knew anything about it. Besides, he would have sent the men who captured us before, and who knew us by sight. And even supposing, which seems to be impossible, that this was his doing, why not have sent us here straight, instead of taking eight days to do a journey that could have been made easily in two, and forcing me to witness the awful scenes in the passes? It is all most extraordinary."
"However, there is no question, sir, that whoever our captor may be, he has been the means of saving our lives."
"There can be no doubt of that, Azim; and though I may not feel that at present, I shall in the future be very grateful to him. Even if he were to have us shot directly he comes here, I should still be grateful, for it would be a sudden death and not a lingering one, as it has been to those below. Well, it is of no use puzzling ourselves over the matter. I suppose we shall learn how it all came about when the chief, whoever he be, returns here. In the meantime we are certainly a great deal better off than we have been for the past two months in cantonments."
"That we are, master. To begin with, I am warm for the first time since the winter set in; and in the next place, I have had a good meal, and do not feel that I could grumble at anything. As to your mission, you said yourself that nothing could come of it, even if you succeeded in getting through, so that in that respect nothing has been lost by our journey being so suddenly brought to an end."
The next day some of the men who had been away with their chief returned, and the old man in charge told Angus that only one man out of all who had started from Cabul had reached Jellalabad, but that several officers had been taken as hostages, including the two generals, Major Pottinger and Captain Johnson, and two others; also, that all the ladies and children, and the ladies' husbands, had accepted the protection of Akbar.
It was a relief, indeed, to Angus to find that his friends Pottinger and Johnson had been saved, and as Captain Boyd was one of the married officers, he also must have escaped the massacre. As to the fate of Elphinstone and Shelton he was indifferent, it was to them that the misfortune that had befallen the army was largely due; but the thought that his three greatest friends had escaped gave him much pleasure. With these exceptions, that but one man out of sixteen thousand five hundred should have escaped was appalling. That the loss had been terrible he was well aware, but he was hardly prepared for the total annihilation of the force.
Another two days passed. They continued to be well fed and treated, and the women who waited upon them seemed to regard them as guests rather than as captives, talking freely with them, and only being silent when Angus endeavoured to find out the name of their chief. It was evident that on this point they had orders to keep silent. On the third day they heard a stir in the village, and shouts of acclamation and welcome. The room in which they were confined was at the back of the house, and they were therefore unable to obtain a view of what was passing.
"We shall learn our fate now, Azim," Angus said.
"I have no fear of its being a bad one, master. We cannot doubt that orders were given that we should be well treated. If we are kept prisoners till the spring, for mypart I shall not grumble if they continue to treat us as well as they have been doing."
They heard the sound of many footsteps and loud talking, then the door opened and Sadut Khan entered. He advanced with both hands outstretched to Angus.
"My dear friend," he said, "how thankful I am that you have been saved where so many have perished!"
"And so it is you, chief, to whom I owe my life?" Angus said, returning the warm grasp of Sadut's hand. "I did not thank you at first, for it seemed to me shameful that an English officer should not share in the fate of his comrades."
Sadut smiled. "But in no case would you have shared their fate. It is not from that I have saved you, but from being killed on your way down. Knowing that the passes were full of our people, I was sure that you must have been taken and murdered. No story you could have told would have availed you. You were not a Ghilzye, nor a member of any of the tribes there, and you would assuredly have been detected and killed had I not saved you."
"That is so, Sadut; and although at first I was half-mad at being unable to join my countrymen, I saw before the end came that, had I done so, my life would have been thrown away uselessly."
"Exactly; and that was why I ordered that you should be enabled to see all that passed. From what I had seen of you, I was sure that at first you would bitterly resent being taken prisoner, and that even if you knew into whose hands you had fallen you would resist; and it was for that reason that I did not this time employ Hassan and his followers to seize you, though all through your journey they kept close at hand, to use my name and authority should any party of tribesmen meet you—not that I had much fear of your detection had they done so. The menwith you had orders that in case they did meet such a party, they were to treat you both, not as captives, but as forming part of their own band. Still, it was as well that Hassan should be at hand in case of need."
"I thank you with all my heart, Sadut. I could not have done so at first, but I can do so now; you have indeed saved my life. A few days ago that seemed to me as nothing, for I felt that I was dishonoured in looking on at the massacre of my countrymen. I have had time to think it over since, and I now know that the view I took was exaggerated. Could I have joined them it was plainly my duty to have done so, but if I was a prisoner no blame could attach to me. Have you, chief, taken part in this terrible business?"
"No. With twenty of my own horsemen I rode with Akbar, who is my friend and relative, but I had no intention of drawing my sword against your people. I knew that they had been promised protection, and I thought that Akbar and his force were going to escort them. His word had been given, and I did not think he would withdraw it.
"I do not think it was his intention to do so. He could have done much more than he did, but he could not have saved the fugitives. The Nawab was alone among the Afghan chiefs in the sincerity of his assurances. Akbar had no influence with the Ghilzye chiefs, and even had he influenced them they could not have restrained their tribesmen and the Ghazees. The die was cast. It was Allah's will that those who had invaded the country without any pretext, dethroned Dost Mahomed, who had eagerly sought their alliance, and forced a man we all hated upon us, should meet their fate. Over and over again we implored Akbar, for the sake of his pledge and his word, to assist your people; even if, in his efforts to do so, he fell, then his name would go down as long as our nation existed as one who died in defence of his oath and his honour. He was all alongirresolute. At times he did his best short of attacking the Ghilzyes, at other times he held aloof altogether from the scene. At any rate, I can feel that my honour is not soiled. I was not one of those who signed the treaty, but I have done my best to prevent that treaty from being violated. Had your people sallied out from the cantonments and given us battle, I should have fought against them. But even had there been no treaty, I would not have taken part in the massacre of men who were practically defenceless, and who were in no way responsible for the crime of their government."
"I am glad to hear you say so, chief. I should have been grieved indeed had you taken part in so treacherous and terrible a massacre. But how did you learn that I was going to try to make my way down to Jellalabad? That I have never been able to understand."
"I kept a watch over you the whole time, my friend. Either Hassan, or one of his men who knew you, was always in the camp, dressed as one of the camp followers."
"But even then I cannot imagine how he could have told that I was going. I knew it myself but a few hours before I started, and only Major Pottinger and three or four of my friends were aware of it."
"My watch was a good one," the chief said, "and when two Afghans issued from your tent you may be sure the news was quickly brought to the men who had for some days been lying in readiness, and who were prepared to repeat the adventure in the city."
Suddenly, to the astonishment of Angus, Azim threw himself on his knees. "Master!" he exclaimed, "you can kill me, but I own that it was I who betrayed you. I had met Hassan in the camp, and he told me that assuredly no white man would escape alive, that it was settled that all shouldbe attacked and slain in the passes. He said that Sadut Khan had resolved to save you, but that to do this with certainty it would be necessary that he should be informed as to your movements, and where you would ride when the army started. He said that unless I helped them it might be impossible to save you. Then I agreed to do so, and met him or one of his men every day. As soon as you had left the tent after telling me of your expedition, I ran to the spot where I knew I should find Hassan, and told him that we were going alone. He said at once that it would be certain death were you to try to go down the pass, and that you must be carried off as soon as you had left the camp. I knew well that you would be greatly angered, and that if you suspected me you would kill me for my treachery; but that was nothing compared to your life, and so I turned traitor to you, and am willing now that you should order me to be taken out and beheaded."
Angus held out his hand to his faithful follower. "I should have been angry at first—grieved and angry too, but I cannot be angry now. You did what you believed to be best for me, and I acknowledge that it has turned out so. Your treachery was but an act of fidelity, and undoubtedly was the means of saving my life. You did wrong, but it was with the best intentions. You ought to have confided in me."
"But I knew that if I did so you would not have consented."
"That is true enough; still, I was the best judge of what was consistent with my honour. However, next to Sadut Khan I owe you my life, and it would be but poor gratitude were I to reproach you. Let us say no more about it. I shall remember always that you saved my life, and shall forget that you somewhat betrayed my trust. I have forfour years past regarded you as my friend rather than as my servant, and I shall esteem you even more so in the future."
Azim retired with tears of joy in his eyes. Sadut and Angus had a long talk together. As if by mutual consent, the subject of the late events was avoided, and the conversation was upon their journey across the Bamian and Sadut's doings since that time.
"I stayed at Khooloom until the governor, whom we had trusted implicitly, handed over Dost Mahomed's family and mine to your people. I happened to be away at the time, and on my return two days later was warned by Hassan of what had taken place. When Dost returned from captivity among the Turkomans, of course I joined him and accompanied him to Kohistan, and fought by his side in the battle of Purwandurrah. The Ameer had said no word even to me of his intention to surrender, and I was thunder-struck when I heard that he had given himself up. I remained there, and took part in the attack on the Ghoorka regiment, at Charekar. After that I returned home. My fortress, as you know, lies far to the west among the Momunds. This place does not belong to me, but to the husband of a sister of mine. She is at present at my place with her husband, who is ill; and as I wished to be nearer to the scene of action, he begged me to use his fort as a residence. I desired to hold myself aloof from the negotiations, as I knew that most of the chiefs were open at any moment to betray the cause for British gold. Still, I was often down in the city, where I own the house to which you were taken. I no longer hated your people as infidels—your kindness to me showed me that there was goodness in your religion as well as in mine—but I was still ready to fight against them as the invaders of my country."
"And now, chief, what do you propose to do with me?"
"That is for you to decide, my friend. I know what you will say, but, though I may regret it deeply, I shall certainly offer no opposition. You are my guest, and it is not for me to dictate to you. I should be happy if you would stay with me till these troubles have passed, but I place myself wholly at your disposal, whatever you may decide upon."
"Thank you, indeed. It is clear to me that if it is in my power I should immediately rejoin our forces."
"I was sure that that would be your wish, and I will send you down with a strong escort to Peshawur."
"I would rather join Sale at Jellalabad."
Sadut Khan shook his head. "In that case," he said, "I shall have rescued you in vain. Sale's force is already besieged, and it will be but a repetition of Cabul. By orders of Akbar Khan, the Ghilzye chiefs have all risen. The town is practically without fortifications, though I hear that the white soldiers have been labouring hard to put the place in a state of defence. But if the army at Cabul could not withstand us, still less will Sale's force, which is only a third of its strength, hold Jellalabad."
"You forget, chief, that they are commanded by a man, and not by an utterly incapable person. They are not dispirited by forced inaction or want of food. I do not say that Jellalabad may not be taken, but I feel sure that it will offer a sturdy resistance, and the news of what has happened in the passes will only fill the soldiers with fury. At any rate, Sale's is the only force that remains of the army to which I was attached, and it is there that it is my duty, with your permission, to go. I am sure that were you in my place that would also be your decision."
"So be it," Sadut said after a long pause. "Were you to go to Peshawur you might meet your death there also, as doubtless a force will endeavour to relieve Jellalabad,and in that case you would certainly go with them. They will never force their way through the Khyber Pass. From what I hear the Sepoys at Peshawur are almost in a state of mutiny. The Sikhs have sapped their loyalty, and have assured them that they will never be able to force the pass; and when they do move forward they cannot be depended upon to stand by the British troops so that your danger may be as great one way as another. However, Jellalabad is your choice and not mine. The citadel there is strong, and when the town is captured, as it certainly will be soon, the troops can retire there, and may hold out until they make terms and are allowed to return to India."
"I do not think they will make terms, Sadut. They have had a terrible lesson as to the manner in which treaties are respected by the greater portion of your chiefs, and are not likely to trust again to any promises, but will hold out until they have fired their last cartridge."
"They cannot hope to defend themselves," Sadut said positively. "Akbar Khan will himself head the army."
"I do not think, Sadut, that you know yet what a British soldier can do when well led. There has been no great battle fought since we entered Afghanistan, and you must not judge them by the small fights that took place round Cabul; the soldiers there had lost heart and confidence in their commander. It will be a very different thing when you meet them confident in themselves and in their leaders. Believe me, your hosts, however large, do not frighten them. You know how they have overcome many of the best fighting races in India, and that in the teeth of odds as great as can be brought against them here. I say not a word against the courage of your people, but they want discipline and training, and even a host of men fighting each for himself, cannot withstand the charge of well-disciplined soldiers."
"Why did they not come up the passes, then, to aid their friends."
"Because they were deficient in carriage, they were in a country altogether hostile to them, they had many sick, and must have left a strong force to guard them. There may have been other reasons of which I know not, but these are sufficient. For a force to enter these passes without animals to carry their food and their wounded would have been madness. And I believe that Sale has not more than twelve hundred bayonets, a force sufficient to do wonders in the plains, but which could hardly fight their way up the passes against thousands of good marksmen, as the Afghans assuredly are, armed with guns which carry much farther than their own, and firing in safety behind inaccessible rocks. But whether Jellalabad can resist all attacks, as I believe, or whether the place falls, is a matter which does not affect my resolution. It is my duty to be there, and if you will afford me means of getting there I will assuredly go."
"We will start to-morrow, then, and the sooner we are off the better. The news of what has happened in the passes will spread like flame through the country, and every fighting man will turn out to complete the work. There is a pathway from here which goes straight down to Gundamuck. I will ride with you with half a dozen of my followers; there are plenty of ponies on the hills. Certainly no questions will be asked, no suspicions can arise. When we get near Jellalabad we shall see how you can best enter. I will ride round the place with you. As I am a friend of Akbar's, it will be supposed that I am examining the place to see where an attack had best be made. There are many orchards and small villages round. When we are as near the town as we can get, you can slip from your horse as we go through an orchard. Keep under cover in the gardens until close to thewalls. When you get within musket-shot you can tie a white cloth to your gun, and you will then be safe."
This plan was carried out, and two days later, after a grateful parting from his preserver, Angus stood at the edge of the moat opposite one of the gates.
CHAPTER XVII
JELLALABAD
A sentryhad already sent down word that two Afghans had approached carrying a white flag, and an officer appeared on the wall.
"What do you want?" he asked.
"We want to come in, Thompson. I am Angus Campbell, and have escaped almost by a miracle."
There was a shout of pleasure, and a minute later the gate was opened, and Thompson ran out and warmly shook Angus by the hand.
"I am delighted to see you," he said. "We all thought you among the slain in the passes. What an awful time it has been since we left Cabul on our way, as we believed, to India! We can scarcely believe the terrible news even now. We have learnt but little from Brydon, who was, he thought, the only survivor, except the hostages who, he tells us, were given over a few days before the end came. He was desperately wounded, and could scarce sit his horse when he arrived, and has been too ill to give us any details."
"I can give very little, for I was not with the army. I started the evening before they left camp, on a mission from Pottinger to Sir Robert Sale. Pottinger did not think that any help could possibly come, but at the same time he thoughtit right to make one more effort to communicate with your general, and to tell him that they were on the point of starting. I had gone but a short distance when I was captured. Fortunately the men who took me were followers of Sadut Khan. I was taken to his fort. He was absent at the time; when he returned he at once gave me my liberty, and escorted me to within a quarter of a mile of the wall, as a return for a service I had rendered him two years ago."
"That was a piece of luck indeed. Then you saw nothing of it?"
"Yes, I saw a great deal. My captors were, I suppose, anxious to see what was going on, and we followed the course of the army, keeping on the hill; and, except for the fighting at night, I saw almost the whole of the tragedy."
While they were talking they were approaching the head-quarters of the general. Angus was well known to Sir Robert, to whom he had often carried messages and notes from Burnes or Macnaghten. When their first greeting was over, he repeated the story he had told Captain Thompson. He thought it best to say no word of his escape being the result of a preconcerted plan on the part of Sadut Khan, as he felt that some might suspect that he was privy to the scheme, and had taken advantage of the friendship of the Momund chief to make his escape.
"I am not so surprised as I might otherwise have been," the general said, "since I received a letter from Pottinger yesterday. Akbar had allowed him to send it down, thinking that the information that Elphinstone, Shelton, Lawrence, Mackenzie, and Pottinger himself were all right might induce us to submit to terms. He said, 'I trust that before this you will have heard that we are about to start from Mr. Angus Campbell, who nobly accepted the desperate mission of penetrating through the passes and bringing you word of our intention. Should he have arrived safely, I beg torecommend him most strongly to the authorities for accepting the mission, which seemed almost a hopeless one. He has rendered great service during the time the troops have been in cantonments, by aiding the commissariat officers in bringing in grain.' As you had not arrived we naturally feared that you had been murdered on your way down. I am glad indeed that you have escaped. You will now, of course, give your assistance to Macgregor, our political officer."
"If he cannot utilize my services, sir, and he can have but little political work to do now, I shall be glad if you will attach me to one of the regiments where you think I may be most useful."
"You had better talk it over with Macgregor first. You know him, of course; and if he does not want you, I will attach you to my own staff. With your knowledge of the Afghan language, your services might be invaluable in obtaining information; or, should we make a sortie—and we have already made one with effect—I should be glad, if you wish it, to attach you either to the infantry or cavalry, whichever you prefer. Now that you have told us about yourself, please give us any details you can of what you saw of the fighting?"
"It can hardly be said that there was any fighting, sir; until the last day the troops were so completely surrounded, and I may say overwhelmed by the camp followers, that they were practically unable to use their arms. General Shelton with the rear-guard fought nobly, and covered the retreat into Jugduluk, until the time when he was enticed with the general into Akbar's camp, and there held as a hostage. By what I heard, the handful of men left, only about a hundred and fifty all told, fought desperately to break their way through a barricade with which the Afghans had blocked the top of the pass. Only ten officers succeeded in breakingthrough, and of these all but one were killed on the road. All the soldiers died fighting at the barricade, and many officers. The last Sepoy had fallen two days before."
"It has been a bad business," General Sale said, "bad not only in its terrible result, but in the manner in which affairs were conducted. We here received with astonishment the news that four thousand five hundred British troops were cooped up by a horde of Afghans without one single attempt being made to bring on a battle in the open. Officers and men alike were astounded when Pottinger's first letter arrived, saying that negotiations were continued after the murder of Macnaghten. However, all this is a matter for future investigation. And now a personal question. Can you tell me how it was that my wife, Lady Macnaghten, and the other ladies, escaped uninjured? I only know from Pottinger that the ladies and children were handed over to the protection of Akbar, and that those who had husbands were also accompanied by them."
"The ladies were always kept close behind the advanced guard, sir. As these showed an unbroken front, the Afghans allowed them to pass without opposition, falling upon the confused mass behind them."
"Do you think that Akbar was a sharer in this treacherous attack?"
"I think his conduct was doubtful in the extreme, sir. He certainly did try more than once to persuade the Ghilyze chiefs to allow the survivors to pass on unmolested, but by that time the passions of the Afghans were absolutely beyond control. I myself have great doubts whether he would have interfered had he not been well aware that his interference would be useless. But this is only my opinion, based upon the facts, that in the first place he himself shot Macnaghten, whom he had invited to a conference; in the second place, he took no step whatever to carry out the conditionto supply baggage animals and provisions; and lastly, because I know that long before the column set out on its march, he sent out orders to the Ghilzye chiefs to attack you."
"The case certainly looks very black against him," the general said; "but at least we may hope that, as his family are in our hands in India, he will protect the hostages."
"I hope, sir, that he will hand them over to the Nawab, who appears to me to be a thoroughly honest man. Undoubtedly he did his best to persuade the chiefs to agree to the treaty with us. He certainly did send in some provisions to the camp, and generally we formed a high opinion of his kindness of heart. Your fortifications are stronger than I expected to find them, from what I have heard, sir."
"Yes, the men have worked incessantly at them ever since we came here. The mud walls can scarcely be said to have existed when we marched in. There was no parapet, the ditch was filled in with rubbish, and the walls had so crumbled away that carts could cross over them at almost every point. Fortunately the men were in good heart, and all, Europeans and Sepoys, have worked with an energy beyond praise. The moat has been cleared out and filled with water, the walls have been scarped, and a parapet twelve feet high erected. The bastions have been put in order; and though, had we been seriously attacked at first, we must have retired to the citadel, we are now ready to withstand any assault."
Angus next went to Macgregor, who received him most warmly.
"I am glad indeed to see you, Campbell. Pottinger mentioned you in his reports as doing invaluable service with Boyd and Johnson. You will not find much in our line here. When the sword is once drawn, there is nothing for us to do until it becomes a question of our dictating terms, a contingency not likely to arise for some time."
"Had you hard fighting to get here?" Angus asked.
"No fighting at all. As we marched down from Gundamuck, the natives all supposed that we were on our way to Peshawur, and when we suddenly turned and marched towards the city, it was too late for them to think of resistance, and they simply bolted on one side of the town as we marched in on the other. We were bitterly disappointed when we saw the state of the walls, and it was a question for some time whether we should not content ourselves with holding the citadel only. But it was at last determined, for a time at least, to hold the town, as our retirement to the citadel would look like weakness. Another consideration was, that once in the citadel we should be shut up entirely, for, as you see, it stands in the middle of the town, and with the streets crowded with the enemy, there would be no getting out to obtain provisions.
"The result has proved the wisdom of the step we took. The walls are now strong enough to be obstinately defended, and from their extent we have been able to sally out at one gate or another and bring in provisions. We had but two days' food when we arrived here; now we have succeeded in gathering in a sufficient quantity to keep the troops on half rations for two months, and I hope that before it is finished we shall be relieved from Peshawur. We gave the natives a handsome thrashing on the day before we got in here. They attacked us in great force, trying especially to carry off our baggage, but the infantry repulsed them splendidly. However, they came on to renew the attack. The cavalry were placed in ambush, and the troops, after at first advancing, suddenly wheeled round and went off at the double. The enemy, believing that they had achieved a great victory, rushed after them. As soon as they reached an open space, the cavalry fell upon them. For months they had been inactive, being of no use among the hills. Now was theirchance, and in a moment they were in the thick of the Afghans. They made terrible havoc among them, and thus it was that we were able to enter the town without further trouble. The next day, the 13th of November, Broadfoot was appointed garrison engineer. He had a small corps of sappers with him, and they soon set to work.
"On the morning of the 16th, the enemy were thick in the gardens round the town, the principal body being on the hillside. It was resolved to give them another lesson. They were, as could be seen from the highest point in the city, some five thousand strong, and Colonel Monteith of the 35th Bengal Infantry, took out eleven hundred men at daybreak. The advance was covered by the guns which had been mounted on the walls, and their shrapnel soon drove the enemy into the open. The infantry pressed forward and scattered them, and the cavalry completed their rout. It was this defeat that so cowed them for a time, that I was able to fetch in grain, sheep, firewood, and other necessaries. I may mention that I took upon myself, as soon as we came in here, the post of commissariat officer. It was not until the end of the month that they again mustered in force sufficient to attack us; they contented themselves with hovering round and keeping up a desultory fire.
"On the 1st of December, however, they gathered in great numbers, and seemed to threaten an attack. Colonel Dennie commanded this time, and he took out the greater portion of the garrison and a couple of guns. It was noon when he sallied out. Abbot's guns commenced the action by pouring a tremendous fire of grape into the thick mass. They fled in wild confusion; the cavalry cut them up terribly, and the infantry overtook and bayoneted many of them. It could scarcely be called a fight. The day was won directly the guns opened fire, and we did not lose a single man. Since that time they have not ventured to attack us.
"News came day after day of the terrible mess at Cabul. The news was kept as far as possible from the troops, so as not to discourage them; but, of course, since Brydon came in, the truth of the terrible massacre had to be told. I am happy to say that, although filling them with wrath and indignation, it has in no way abated their spirit. During the six weeks' rest we have had since the battle of the 1st of December, we have, as you see, really done wonders in the way of fortification, and consider that we are in a position to repulse any attack however formidable."
"When do you expect that a relief column will arrive from Peshawur?"
"That is a grave question which I cannot answer. Our last news was that Brigadier-general Wyld was on the point of advancing, but from the tone in which he wrote he had evidently no great hope of success. His four Sepoy regiments had been corrupted by the Sikhs, who, having themselves a great repugnance to enter the passes, had endeavoured, and successfully, to inspire the Sepoys with the same feeling. The Sikhs, who were to co-operate with him, were themselves in a state of open mutiny, and threatened to kill General Avitable if he interfered with them. He intended, however, to advance, as the case was so urgent, but with little hope of success. He was without cavalry, and had but two guns on Sikh carriages, which would probably break down after a few rounds had been fired. It was the letter of a brave man surrounded with difficulties, but ready to attempt almost the impossible to bring aid to us. I fear, however, that there is little chance of our relief until reinforcements from India reach Peshawur."
This opinion was justified when, on the 28th, news was brought that the movement had failed. On the 15th Colonel Moseley had started under cover of night with the 53rd and 64th native regiments to occupy the fortress of Ali Musjid,which had been held by a small corps of men of one of the native tribes under Mr. Mackeson. They had been true to their salt, and had resisted every attack of the Afridis. Moseley's force arrived there at daybreak, and met with but little opposition on the way. But it was discovered that, owing to some blunder, only fifty supply bullocks had been sent on instead of three hundred and fifty that should have accompanied the force. Therefore, instead of having a month's provisions, they had but enough for a few days. Brigadier Wyld started on the morning of the 19th to relieve them, but on the preceding day the Sikh troops refused to enter the pass and marched back to Peshawur. Nevertheless, Wyld determined to press forward with the two native regiments. As soon, however, as the enemy attacked them the Sepoys at the head of the column wavered and opened an aimless fire.
In vain the Brigadier and the officers endeavoured to persuade them to advance. They would not move forward, nor would the rest of the troops advance to their assistance. The two guns broke down after a round or two, and what little spirit remained among the Sepoys evaporated at once, and the column had to fall back. One of the guns was spiked and left behind, the Sepoys refusing to make any effort to bring it off. The Brigadier, who with several of our officers was wounded, saw that it was impossible to persevere, and the force fell back beyond the pass. Moseley could obtain no news, and was unaware of the repulse of the relieving column. Although the troops were on half rations supplies were nearly exhausted. The water was bad, and numbers of the Sepoys fell ill, and on the 23rd he determined to evacuate the fortress. Two officers volunteered to hold it, but the Sepoys would not support them, and the former native garrison had lost heart; so, on the 24th, the force marched out. The Afridis mustered strongly to oppose the retreat. The Sepoys,animated now by the hope of safety, fought well. Two British officers were killed, most of the baggage lost, and some of the sick and wounded had to be abandoned, but the main body got through safely.
Such was the news that was brought by a native in our pay, together with a letter from Brigadier Wyld saying that it would be impossible to renew the attempt until reinforcements of at least one British regiment with some guns arrived. But the news that help was still far distant in no way discouraged the garrison of Jellalabad, who redoubled their efforts to strengthen the fortifications and to prepare by their own unaided efforts for the worst.
At Peshawur Wyld's repulse bore the natural consequences. The discontent among the Sepoy's increased, many deserted, and expressions of determination never to enter the pass again were common among them. Sickness broke out, and when on the 25th of February General Pollock, who had been selected to command the force gathered there, and invested with full authority on all other matters, arrived, he found a thousand men in hospital; a week later the number was increased to eighteen hundred.
No better man than Pollock could have been chosen. He possessed at once great firmness, kindness of heart, and a manner calculated to inspire confidence. He declared to the central authorities at once that, even with the brigade which had come up with him, to advance up the pass would be to court another defeat. The four Sepoy regiments that had been engaged could, in their present state, not be counted on for service, and the force at his disposal was therefore no greater than that which Wyld had lost. He set to work in the first place to restore confidence. It was a difficult task. Many even among the officers had become affected with the spirit of defection, and did not hesitate to express their opinion that an advance through the Khyber Pass wouldinvolve a repetition of the Cabul disaster. The new Sepoy regiments were at once visited by emissaries from those of Wyld's brigade and from the Sikhs, who endeavoured in every way to persuade them also to refuse to enter the pass, and succeeded in the case of the 26th native regiment, who joined the four other battalions in refusing to advance. On the day after his arrival General Pollock visited all the hospitals, enquired into the ailments of the sick, and talked encouragingly to them. Then he went to the Sepoy regiments, enquired into the cause of their discontent, and exhorted them to return to their duty, and not to bring disgrace upon regiments that had so many times in the past proved their courage and loyalty.
His task was a hard and difficult one, but his method of mildness and firmness combined gradually restored their spirits and discipline; and the knowledge that reinforcements were on their way, with a good proportion of European troops, including cavalry and artillery, greatly aided his efforts. Still, until these reinforcements arrived, Pollock could do nothing but reply to the urgent letters of Sale and Macgregor by pointing out his inability to move.
On the 19th of February Angus was with Macgregor on the walls of Jellalabad. The men were as usual working hard and steadily, grateful in the thought that their long labour had borne its fruits, and that in a few days they would be able to lay by their picks and shovels, the work that they had been set to do having been accomplished.
"Another week," Captain Havelock, who was acting as Persian interpreter to Macgregor, said to Angus, "and the whole work which Broadfoot traced out will be finished. In one respect I am sorry that it should be so, for there is nothing like active work for keeping men's spirits up and preventing them from feeling the effects of idleness. I think—" and he stopped abruptly. There was a suddentremor of the earth and a deep sound like thunder, then they were both thrown off their feet. The walls, the houses, the whole city, swayed and shook. Then came the crash of falling houses, wild shouts of alarm and pain; the earth crumbled beneath them, and they rolled down together into the moat. On finding that they were unhurt they scrambled up the slope of earth. A terrible sight presented itself. A third of the buildings in the town had fallen. But this was not the worst. Several of the bastions had been destroyed; almost all the parapets were thrown down; several great breaches were made in the wall, one of them eighty feet in length; and the moat had in many places been filled up with the debris of the wall and parapet. The soldiers were extricating themselves or helping their comrades from the earth that had almost overwhelmed them; others were standing gazing with a dazed air at the destruction that had been wrought.
"We had better go to head-quarters," Havelock said, "and see what has happened there."
They made their way with difficulty through the ruins that blocked the streets. The movements of the earth still continued, and they had all they could do to keep their feet. On reaching head-quarters they found to their satisfaction that all was safe. The general and Macgregor had both been occupied in writing despatches to Peshawur, and had rushed out into the little courtyard of the house. The offices round it fell in ruins at their feet, but the dwelling-house, although it swayed to and fro, did not fall. Enquiries were at once set on foot, when it was found that no lives had been lost among the garrison, although two natives had been killed by the fall of their houses.
No time was lost. The whole of the garrison were told off into working parties, and in half an hour were diligently at work repairing the wall at the most important points.They worked until late at night, by which time the breaches were scarped, the rubbish all cleared away, and the ditches dug out again, while a parapet of gabions was erected along the great breach. A parapet was erected on the remains of the bastion which flanked the approach to the Cabul gate, that had been entirely ruined, a trench had been dug, and a temporary parapet raised on every bastion round the place. Never, probably, was so much work accomplished by an equal number of men in the same time. Day after day the work was continued, until by the end of the month the parapets were restored, the breaches built up, the rampart increased in thickness, every battery re-established, and the gates entrenched; and yet the troops were in hourly anxiety that their work might be again destroyed, for during the month succeeding the great earthquake fully a hundred shocks were felt.
So extraordinary was the vigour with which the repairs had been accomplished, that when Akbar Khan moved down with his forces early in March and saw the formidable defences, he and his followers were unable to understand it, and declared that the preservation of Jellalabad from destruction must have been the result of witchcraft, for no other town or village had escaped. While at work the garrison had been in constant expectation of attack, for Akbar's army lay but a few miles from the town. But the success of the two sorties had shown the Afghan leader that he had very different foes to deal with from the dispirited force that had been annihilated in the passes. Here were men ready to work and to fight, while those at Cabul had done neither; and he resolved to attempt to starve them out, hoping for the same success as had attended a similar step at Cabul. He kept on, therefore, drawing in more closely, harassing the foraging parties, and having occasional skirmishes with the bodies of cavalry sent out to protect the grass-cutters.
On the night of the 10th the enemy threw up sangars, small defences of earth or stone, at many points round the town, and from behind them opened a brisk fire. There was a report that behind these shelters they were mining towards the walls, and a strong party of infantry and cavalry, with two hundred of Broadfoot's sappers, commanded by Colonel Dennie, were sent out. As they poured out through the gate, Akbar advanced with his forces; but the guns on the ramparts received them with a heavy fire, and although they came on several times as if prepared to give battle, they eventually drew back, unable to withstand the storm of shot and shrapnel. The working parties of sappers set to work to destroy the sangars, and in doing so discovered that there was no foundation for the report that the enemy were mining. When the work was done, the troops began to fall back to the town, as ammunition was beginning to run short. On seeing their retirement the Afghans again advanced; but on our troops halting and facing them, they at once turned and fled, having lost considerably by our artillery and musketry fire. Dennie's force sustained no loss in killed, but Broadfoot was wounded, and the loss of his services as engineer was serious.
Time passed quietly. The whole of the ground had been cleared of trees, houses, and walls for some distance round the town, and the Afghans were no longer able to crawl up under shelter and keep up a galling fire on our men. Early in April a messenger brought in news that Pollock had now received his reinforcements, and would advance in a day or two, the Sepoys having recovered their health and spirits. His force had been joined by the 9th Foot, the 3rd Dragoons, nine guns, and the 1st Native Cavalry.
On the 5th these started from Jumrood. Brigadier Wyld commanded the advance guard, General M'Caskill the rear. Two columns of infantry were to scale the height on either side of the pass, Major Davis in command of that on the right, Colonel Moseley of that on the left. At three o'clock in the morning they started. The heights on either side and the pass were crowded with the enemy, who were always well informed of the British movements by the natives in the town. They expected that the force would all move along the road, and anticipated an easy success. The two flanking parties moved off so quietly in the dim light of the morning that they were not perceived by the enemy until they began to scale the heights. Then a lively combat began, and the Afghans learned for the first time that even among their own hills the British could beat them.
The difficulties of the ascent were great, but themoralof the Sepoys was now completely restored, and they stormed the heights on either side with great gallantry, driving the Afghans before them. While this was going on, the main column in the valley had cleared away a formidable barricade that had been erected at the mouth of the pass, and which could not have been destroyed without much loss had the Afghans maintained their position on the hills. Pollock now advanced, and the Afghans, who had assembled in large numbers at the mouth of the pass, bewildered at finding themselves outflanked, fell back, and the column with its great convoy of animals moved forward.
The number of draught animals was very large, although the baggage of the advancing force had been cut down to the narrowest dimensions, in order that provisions and ammunition for the garrison at Jellalabad might be taken on. The march occupied the greater part of the day. The heat was great, and the troops suffered from thirst; but animated by their success, they thought little of this, and before nightfall bivouacked round Ali Musjid, whose garrison had evacuated the place when they saw that the day had gone against them. All night long the Afghans kept up a fire from among the hills, but did not attempt an attack. The Sikhs had joined the main body, as the general, doubtful as to their fidelity, had sent them by another pass. The general's estimate of them was not a mistaken one. They were left to occupy Ali Musjid and guard the pass, but shortly after the army had moved on they quitted the position and marched away, seizing some of the baggage animals on their way up, and, throwing their loads on the ground, employing them to carry their own baggage.
The crushing and altogether unexpected defeat that the tribesmen had suffered had its effect. They had found themselves beaten at their own game and withdrew at once to their fastnesses, and Pollock's force marched on without meeting with any serious opposition.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE ADVANCE ON CABUL
Thegarrison of Jellalabad found themselves pressed for provisions at the end of March, and on the 1st of April made a gallant sortie, and swept into the town a flock of five hundred sheep and goats. On the 5th Macgregor's spies brought in news from Akbar's camp that it was reported there that Pollock had been beaten with great loss in the Khyber Pass, and on the following morning Akbar's guns fired a royal salute in honour of the supposed victory. Sale, now confident of the fighting powers of his men, determined to make a great effort to break up the blockade; as if Pollockhad really been defeated it would be some time before relief could come to them, and they could not hope again to make such a capture as that which they had effected on the 1st. A council of war was held, and action was decided upon, as success would not only free them from all apprehensions of being starved out, but would effect a diversion in favour of Pollock.
The force was but a small one for the enterprise which they moved out to undertake. The centre column, consisting of the 13th Regiment, mustering five hundred bayonets, was under the command of Colonel Dennie; the right, consisting of some three hundred and fifty men of the two native regiments and a detachment of sappers, was commanded by Captain Havelock; the left column was about the same strength, under Lieutenant-colonel Monteith; the light field battery and a small cavalry force were to support them. They advanced from the city at daylight on the 7th. Akbar Khan drew up his force, six thousand strong, before his camp, his right resting on a fort, and his left on the Cabul river. Havelock's column commenced the fight by attacking the enemy's left, while Dennie advanced to the assault of the fort, which was vigorously defended. Dennie himself fell mortally wounded by an Afghan ball, but his men captured the place in gallant style. A general attack now took place on Akbar's camp. The artillery advanced at a gallop, and poured their fire into the Afghan centre, the 13th and Colonel Monteith's column pierced their right, while Havelock drove back their left from the support afforded by the river.
The Afghans fought sturdily, their musketry keeping up a heavy fire, and large bodies of horse again and again threatened Havelock's column, while three guns from a hidden battery opened fire. The struggle, however, was a short one. Their cannon were taken, every position held by them was captured, and by seven o'clock they were in fullretreat. Two cavalry standards were taken, four guns lost by the Cabul and Gundamuck forces were recaptured, a vast quantity of ordnance stores destroyed, and the whole of the enemy's tents burnt. The loss of the Afghans had been heavy, and several chiefs were among the fallen. The loss of the victors was small indeed. Colonel Dennie and ten Sepoys were killed, three officers and some fifty men wounded. A day or two later Pollock's force reached Jellalabad, and the joy of both parties was great.