THE BATTLE OF TIZEEN.
From out of the Passes, dark and shadowing, the reverberating echoes
of the adverse musketry roused black clouds of vultures, with angry
croak and flapping wing. It would seem almost as if all the obscene
birds of Asia had been wont to seek, for months past, this ghastly
place--to make it their undisturbed rendezvous; and such, no doubt,
it had been, for there,
"Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown,"
all belted and accoutred in the rags of their uniform, just as the
death-shots had struck them down, and as they had fallen over each
other in piles, lay the remains of Elphinstone's slaughtered army.
Close in ranks, as when living, in some places lay the ghastly relics
of the dead. In one spot, where the last stand had been made by Her
Majesty's 44th Regiment, more than two hundred skeletons lay in one
horrid hecatomb; and in the shreds of red cloth that flapped in the
wind, the buttons and badges, sad and agonizing were the efforts made
by officers and men to recognise the remains of some dear and jovial
friend, some true and gallant comrade in the times that were gone;
and it was all the sadder to reflect that most of the fallen had been
cut off in their prime, or even before it, as from eighteen to
twenty-six years is the average age of our soldiers on service.
In too many, if not nearly all, instances the remains were headless,
the skulls having been borne off as trophies by the various mountain
tribes; and in some places the white bones lay amid purple, crimson,
and golden beds of those sweetly scented violets which the Orientals
so often use to flavour their finest sherbets.
For miles upon miles it was but a sad repetition of whitening bones,
fragments of uniforms, and ammunition paper, bleached by the wind and
rain and the snows of the past winter, together with the shrunken
remains of camels, horses, and yaboos, from which the baggage and
other trappings had long since been carried off; and ever and always
in mid air the croaking and flapping of the ravening vultures, long
unused to be disturbed by the living, in that valley of solitude and
silence, death and desolation.
Like many others, with a swollen heart, set lips, and stern eyes,
Waller reined in his horse, and would look round him from time to
time, in places where the dead lay thicker than usual. Our now
victorious army was marching in thousands over their fallen comrades,
yet with them Waller felt himself alone, and a man possessed by one
harassing thought.
_His_ comrades were lying among those bones, through which the rank
dog-grass was sprouting--the companions of many a pleasant hour, the
sharers of many a past danger. The object of the loving, the gentle,
the tender, and the peaceful in England far away lay there, abandoned
skeletons, exposed to the elements, to whiten and decay like the
fallen branches of the forest.
Orderly and quiet at all times, a deeper silence fell upon our
advancing troops as they traversed this terrible scene, a silence
broken only by the dropping fire maintained by our advanced guard
with the enemy's rear, under Amen Oolah Khan, till the leading
brigade of the first division on the road from Khoord Cabul to Tizeen
began to ascend the shoulder of a vast green mountain, named the Huft
Kothul, where the narrow and tortuous pathway reaches its greatest
altitude, rising above even the white mists of the deep and dark
green valleys.
Even there, a portion of the path is overlooked by the Castle of
Buddeeabad, which has a frontage of nearly eighty feet, and walls so
lofty that the mountaineers attributed its erection, of course, to
the genii, under Jan Ben Jan, who ruled the world before Adam came.
It belonged to the father-in-law of Ackbar Khan, a Ghilzie chief; and
there had the unfortunate old General Elphinstone looked his last
upon the setting sun.
Under the immediate directions of Ackbar and of Amen Oolah, the
Afghans, particularly the Khyberees, in their yellow turbans, the
Ghilzies and others, were in vast force, and they poured down such a
storm of bullets from rock and bank, cleft and fissure, that the
whole air seemed alive with the hissing sound, as they passed over
and, too often fatally, through our ranks.
"Thirteenth Light Infantry to the right!--Second Queen's to the
left--extend!" were the instant orders of Sir Robert Sale to Waller
and his other aide-de-camp or secretary, Sir Richmond Shakespere, a
gallant and enterprising officer, of whom more anon; and away they
galloped to have them executed. Waller rode, like most of the
cavalry men, with a bundle of green corn over his horse's flanks, to
serve alike as provender and to keep off the flies; but, as he
spurred on to the head of the 13th Regiment, a shot from a jingaul
tore it away, and scattered it to the wind. By the bad gunnery of
the Afghans, their cannon-balls ricocheted in a way that would have
delighted Marshal Vauban, who originally invented that mode of
rendering a round shot doubly dangerous, a half-charge causing it to
roll, rebound, maim, kill, and cause more disorder than if fired
point blank; and hence the origin of the name, as _ricoche_ signifies
simply "duck and drake," the name given by boys to the bounding of a
flat stone cast horizontally on the water.
The two aides delivered their orders in safety to the advancing
battalions, and the commander of each gave his orders for "three
companies on the right (it was the left for the 13th) to extend from
the centre." Cheerily rang out the Kentish bugles, and away went the
skirmishers, confident in their supports, with wonderful rapidity,
though the men were falling fast on every hand. They spread over the
green sunny slopes to the right and left, firing as they proceeded
upward, and swept over the hills in beautiful order, till the central
gorge was passed; then closing in by companies, and then in line,
each regiment began to fix bayonets, and mutually to utter that
hearty "hurrah!" which is ever the inspiring prelude to a charge of
British troops.
Brightly flashed the ridge of bayonets in the sunshine, as on right
and left the red battalions came wheeling down the grassy slopes at a
resolute and steady double. The Afghans, though armed with bayonets
too, never waited to cross them, but turned and fled, with howls of
rage and terror, abandoning two English pieces of artillery.
Then rang out the trumpets sharp and shrill, and giving the reins to
their horses, the 3rd Light Dragoons, all in blue uniform, with white
puggerees over their shakos, their long, straight sword-blades
flashing and uplifted, their heads stooped, their teeth set with
energy, and every bronzed face flushed with ardour, spurred on their
way; and as they rushed past at racing speed, Bob Waller, impelled by
an irresistible impulse, joined them. It was, indeed, a race to be
the first in the task of vengeance; for here and there, unchecked and
unrestrained, the privates, if better mounted, would dart in front of
the officers, as the true English emulous spirit broke out, each
seeking madly to outride his comrades, and be passed by none--so on
swept our Light Dragoons like a living flood.
Right and left the trenchant sword-blades went flashing downward in
the sun, only to be uplifted for another cut or thrust, the
blood-drops flying from them in the air.
In the scattered conflict--for such it became, when the ranks of the
charging cavalry were broken open and loose, every file acting in the
slaughter independently for himself, and keeping but a slight eye on
the motions of his squadron leader--Waller's attention was attracted
by a horseman who seemed to be in high authority, and whose figure,
arms, and equipment were not unfamiliar to his eye. The Afghan was
undoubtedly a brave fellow, and splendidly mounted on a spirited
horse, the saddle and trappings of which were elaborately embossed
and tasselled with gold, while at his martingale were four long
flying tassels of white hair taken from the tails of wild oxen. He
had on his left arm a small round shield, adorned by four silver
knobs; a dagger was in his teeth, and in his right hand a long and
brightly headed lance, with which he had succeeded in unhorsing and
pinning more than one of the 3rd Light Dragoons to the earth. He was
just in the act of cruelly repassing this weapon through one who had
fallen on his face, and who, in his dying agony was tearing up the
turf with his hands and feet, when both Waller and Shakespere rode at
him simultaneously, and sword in hand.
From the writhing and convulsed body he extricated his spear with
difficulty, and turned furiously to face them, glancing and pointing
it at each alternately. He wore a steel cap, engraved with gold; a
sliding bar through the front peak, fixed there with a screw,
protected his face; and in the knob that held his plume--a heron's
tuft--there gleamed a precious stone of great value.
For an instant, quick as lightning, he relinquished his lance,
letting it drop in the sling behind, while he drew a pistol from his
scarlet silk girdle, and firing it at Shakespere, he hurled it
dexterously at Waller, who ducked as it whizzed over his head.
Recognising now, however, with whom he had to deal, he cried,
fearlessly and confidently--
"Shakespere, as a favour, leave this fellow to me, and, with God's
help, I shall polish him off as he deserves!"
"Shumsheer-hu-dust! (come on, sword in hand). Dog! thy soul shall be
under the devil's jaw tonight!" cried the Afghan with fierce
defiance, as his horse curveted and pranced.
He was Amen Oolah Khan, and a splendid and picturesque figure he
presented in his brightly coloured and flaming dress, through the
openings of which his shirt and sleeves of the finest chain-mail,
bright as silver or frostwork on a winter branch, were visible, and,
as Waller knew, impervious to the swords used in our service; at the
same time he remembered that his pistols had both been discharged,
and were still unloaded.
Shakespere reined back his horse, ready, if necessary, to second
Waller, to whom he handed a pistol, on the Khan firing a second at
him. Thus armed, Waller took a steady aim and fired straight at the
head of his antagonist. The latter, to save himself, by a sharp use
of the spur and curb, made his horse rear up, so that the bullet
entered the throat and spine of the animal, which toppled forward
with its head between its knees, just as Amen Oolah was coming to the
charge with his lance, the point of which, by the downward sinking of
his horse, entered the turf so deeply, that, by the consequent
breaking of the shaft, he found himself tumbled ignominiously in a
heap from his saddle, and at the mercy of Waller, who, dashing at
him, rained blow after blow, without avail, upon his steel cap and
mailed shoulders.
The sabre of Amen Oolah had been broken in some previous conflict; he
had but one weapon left, the long and deadly Afghan knife, which, as
a last resort, he had clenched in his teeth, and with this, while
uttering a hoarse cry of rage and defiance, mingled with a rancorous
malediction, he rushed at Waller, and strove to drag him from his
saddle, spitting at him like a viper the while, and adding,
exultingly,
"Ha!--your women are away to Toorkistan, to be the slaves of the
Toorkomans--their slaves of the right hand!"
Waller, a finished horseman, was not to be easily dislodged, for he
had twice the bulk and strength of his adversary. Twisting the reins
round his left arm, he grasped the wrist of the hand which held the
menacing knife, and by a single blow of his sword across the fingers,
compelled the Khan to drop it. Heavy curses came from his lips, but
never once the word _amaun_ (quarter); he knew it would be useless,
and he disdained to ask it. No thought of mercy had Waller in his
heart, for he knew that if defeated he should have met with none; and
on this man's hands there might he, for all he knew, the blood of
Mabel Trecarrel, perhaps, of others certainty, and such surmises, at
such a time, were maddening.
Barehanded now, the Afghan struggled like a tiger with his powerful
adversary, whom he strove to unhorse. Waller endeavoured again and
again to run him through the body; but the Sheffield blade bent, and
failed to pierce the fine rings of the Oriental shirt of mail, so to
end the affair, he smote the Khan repeatedly on the face with the
hilt of his sword, but the helmet bar protected him; then, by making
his horse rear, he endeavoured to cast him off, or kick him under
foot.
Stunned and confused, the savage Afghan at last sank downward, and by
some mischance got his head into the stirrup-leather of Waller, whose
left foot was unavoidably pressed upon his throat; and as the horse,
terrified by this unusual appendage, plunged wildly, and swerved
round and round, the wretched Khan was speedily strangled, and sank
into a state of insensibility, from which he never recovered, as a
couple of the 13th passed their fixed bayonets through his body, and
one tore off his beautiful steel cap, from which Waller afterwards
obtained the jewel--a sapphire of great value.
The cap itself, which was studded with those turquoises that are
found in the mountains of Nishapour, in Khorassan, he tossed to the
two soldiers, who proceeded at once to poke them out with their
bayonets.
"If I ever meet my Mabel again, this sapphire shall be a gift for
her!" thought Waller, with a sigh of weariness, for his victory
brought neither triumph nor regret to his heart.
It was afterwards remembered, as a curious instance of retributive
justice, that Amen Oollah Khan should die in the battle of Tizeen,
almost by the same death as that to which he put his luckless elder
brother, that he might succeed to his inheritance--strangulation.
The whole affair occupied only a few minutes; but, long ere it was
over, the cavalry had swept far in pursuit, and Waller found himself
almost alone. On one side was savage terror; on the other, civilized
men thirsty for justice and vengeance; and so on all sides the
turbaned hordes were stricken down by those who felt that to them was
left the task of atoning for the betrayal and death of friends,
comrades, and relatives; and there, on the heights of Tizeen, the
standard of Ackbar Khan was trod in the dust, never to rise again!
Once more the sun went down in blood upon the passes of the
Khyberees; but once again they were open, and the way to Cabul was
clear.
Resistance had ceased; scarcely a single juzail shot was fired next
day, when, after halting for the night, our infantry began their
march beyond Tizeen, traversing, as the despatch has it, "those
frightful ravines, now doubly frightful because of the heaps of dead
bodies with which the narrow way was choked."
Another junction was made with the victorious troops of General Nott,
advancing from Candahar and Ghuznee; and once more the green and
lovely valley of Cabul, bounded by the snow-clad peaks of Kohistan,
and threaded by its blue and winding river, came into view beyond the
black rocky gorges of the Siah Sung; and the morning sun shone red
and brightly on leaden dome and marble minar, on the walls of the
city, and the vast castellated masses of the Bala Hissar. The
uncased colours of horse and foot, European and Native, rustling in
silk and embroidery, were given to the pleasant breeze; the fixed
bayonets in long lines came like a stream of glittering steel out of
the dark mountain passes; the bands struck up, and once again the
merry British drums woke the same echoes that, ages upon ages ago,
had replied to the clarions of the conquering Emperor Baber, of
Mohammed, of Ghuznee, and even of Alexander and his bare-kneed
Macedonians.
But still where were the captive hostages--the women and children?