THE ALARM.
"Then you have seen the fighting against the Kaffirs, I suppose?"
asked Saleh Mohammed, grimly.
"Seen! Nay, Khan, I fought against them in person; at Jugdulluck,
the defence of the village was entrusted to me----"
"And lost by a Hadji," said the Khan, with a sneer.
"Yes, even as the heights of Tizeen were lost by a Khan," retorted
the other.
"A Khan--who?"
"Amen Oolah--who was killed there."
"Was the slaughter great?"
"Of the Faithful, mean you?"
"Yes: I ask not of the Kaffirs--may their white faces be confounded!"
"The slaughter might remind Azrael, and the angels who looked on us,
of the Prophet when he fought at Bedr. It was not so great, of
course, as that of the Feringhees when they left Cabul; for Ackbar's
orders were then, that but one should be left alive, if even that;
but the white smoke, as it rolled on the wind, along the green sides
of the hills, and ascended skyward out of the deep, dark Passes, was
like that which shall precede the last day, and for two moons fill
all space, from the east to the west, from the rising to the setting
of the sun."
"Silence!" grumbled Saleh Mohammed, who was full of earnest thought,
and in no mood for religious canting just then, as the orders of
Ackbar and the collateral news of his defeat perplexed, while the
hints and covert threats of the Governor of Bameean alarmed and
irritated him. "So this is all you know, Hadji Osman?"
"All, save that I have a letter for Pottinger Sahib."
"From whom?" asked the chief, sharply.
"Shireen Khan, of the Kuzzilbashes."
"Fool! why not speak of this before? Yet perhaps it is as well that
yonder Toorkonian dog is gone," exclaimed Saleh Mohammed, as he
impetuously tore the missive from the hand of the cunning Hadji, who
probably knew its contents; for a most singular leer came into his
repulsive face, as he watched the dark visage of the Dooranee,
seeming all the darker in the twilight now; for the golden flush was
dying in the west, and its fading light fell faintly on the rock-hewn
edifices and wondrous colossi that towered on the hill-slope above
the fort, one half of which was sunk in shadow.
The Arab Hadji, as his creed inculcated, loathed the infidels, but
this loathing did not extend to their loot and treasures; he was not
indifferent to their wines and other good things (in secret, of
course), and he loved their golden English guineas and shining
rupees--their shekels and talents of silver--quite as much as any of
"the cloth" (not that he indulged in that commodity), the reverend
faquirs, doctors, and dervishes of enlightened Feringhistan; so, for
"a consideration," he had actually brought a message to a "Kaffir,"
concerning the redemption of his companions. The letter briefly
detailed the victory of General Pollock at Tizeen, placing beyond a
doubt the rout of Ackbar, and his flight to Kohistan, and suggested
that the Major, in his own name and those of five other British
officers, who were prisoners with him, should offer to Saleh Mohammed
the sum of twenty thousand rupees as a ransom for all--especially the
ladies and children--the sum to be paid down on their release; and a
glow of triumph, satisfaction, and avarice filled the keen eyes and
face of the old Dooranee as he read over the words carefully thrice;
and then stroking his mighty beard, as if making a promise to
himself, and seeming already to feel the rupees loading his girdle,
he exclaimed--
"Shabash! Allah keerim! (Very good! God is merciful!) The Major
Sahib will act like a sensible man, and trust to my generosity. The
game of Ackbar--whose dog is _he_ now?--is about played out at Cabul;
he is checkmated--has not a move on the board. So Saleh Mohammed may
as well act mercifully, and treat with the Feringhee Major for the
ransom of his people."
The night was passed as usual, after prayers were over, in stupor or
the wonted listlessness of despair, by the captives, who were crowded
all together in the mud hovels of the fort, their Dooranee guards
lying outside in their chogahs, poshteens, and horsecloths; but in
the morning they saw with surprise that a new flag--a scarlet
one--had replaced the sacred green, which had floated on the outer
wall at sunset.
And each asked of the other what might this portend? It was the
signal that Saleh Mohammed had revolted from the cause of Ackbar
Khan; but of what his own movements or measures were to be they knew
nothing yet. This new feature in affairs bewildered and baffled the
ulterior views of Zoolficar Khan, who was still more surprised when,
soon after dawn, the old Dooranee, with a detachment of his people,
sallied from the fort, attacked and captured--not, however, without
resistance, some sharp firing, and use of the sabre--a whole convoy
of provisions which passed en route for Bokhara--an act of daring for
which he found it difficult to account, as it would be sure to rouse
the terrible Emir of that kingdom again these intruders in
Toorkistan; but doubtless, thought Zoolficar, the Afghan must know
his own plans and power best.
Loth, however, not to pick up something in the broils or forays that
were so likely to ensue, he began gradually to muster his Toorkoman
followers, desiring them to draw to a head in a wood near the Bameean
river, about nightfall, to watch the Dooranees in the fort, and to
gall or attack them either in advancing or retiring therefrom; but,
ere dark came, there occurred what was to him a fresh source of
surprise, and to Saleh Mohammed of serious alarm, while it chilled
with a new-born fear the hearts of the prisoners, to whom Major
Pottinger had now communicated his letter, his promises and plans,
with all the tidings of the Hadji, thereby for a time exciting their
wildest and most joyous anticipations (at a moment when hope had sunk
to its lowest ebb) of freedom and restoration to the world: so
friends were rushing to congratulate friends, and weeping with
happiness, mothers were wildly clasping their children to their
breast, and all were giving thanks to God.
Affecting ignorance of any change that had taken place in the mind of
the Dooranee, towards evening Zoolficar Khan in all his bravery, but
alone, rode to the gate of the fort, when, greatly to his wrath, he
was denied admittance by Saleh Mohammed in person.
"Take care lest you are the dupe of your own fortune," said he
haughtily.
"Covet not the goods of another, aga," responded Saleh, who had now
resumed his Oriental amplitude of costume.
"Are we to understand that you have abandoned the cause of Ackbar?"
"Fate has done so--wallah billah--why should not I?"
"How now about Khedar Khan and his riches, O Saleh Mohammed the
Incorruptible?" laughed the Toorkoman.
"Dare you mock me?" asked the Dooranee, scowling, with his hand on a
pistol.
"No; but what means all this change since yesterday?"
"It means that what is good for me may be bad for you? Who can read
the book of destiny? The same flower which gives a sweet to the bee
gives poison to reptiles?"
"Does all this mean that you will neither sell nor barter?" asked
Zoolficar, shaking haughtily his huge turban and white heron's plume.
"Exactly--that I will do neither," replied the Dooranee, with a
mocking laugh.
"Then, by the hand of the Prophet, there perhaps come those who may
deprive you of all you possess!" exclaimed the young Toorkoman, with
fierce triumph, as he pointed suddenly along the road that led
towards the Akrobat Pass.
The sun, now in the west, was shedding a lovely golden light along
the brilliantly green slopes of the mighty mountains, whose
snow-capped peaks stood up sharply defined, cold and white, against
the deep, pure blue of the sky. The barren and desolate Akrobat
Pass, overhung by rocks of slate and limestone, yawned like a dark
fissure between the masses of the impending hills, and out of it a
cloud of white dust was now seen to roll, spreading like mist, and
increasing in magnitude like the vapour released by the fisherman in
the Arabian story from the vase of yellow copper on the seashore.
On and on it came--onward and downward into the plain where the
Bameean river winds, and where the silent city of the Colossi towers
upon its rock-hewn hill.
Bright points began to flash and gleam ever and and anon out of this
coming cloud of dust--points that could not be mistaken by a
soldier's eye,--and speedily the whole advancing mass assumed the
undoubted aspect of a great body of armed horsemen, whose tall spears
shone like stars, as they came on at full speed from the mountains!
"Hazarees--wild Hazarees or Eimauks--by Allah!" exclaimed the
Toorkoman, gathering his reins in his hands; "a chupao--an attack on
you, Saleh Mohammed! Now look to your damsels and spoil, for you
will be looted of every kusira!"*
* An Afghan coin, worth about .083 of a penny, English.
With a shout of exultation and defiance, he wheeled round his horse,
and galloped away towards the wood and river.
The Arab Hadji, Osman, declared these newcomers to be some Usbec
cavalry, whom he had seen but yesterday encamped by the side of the
river Balkh.
"Kosh gelding! Usbecs, Toorkomans, or Hazarees,--let them come and
welcome; they shall not find us unprepared!" exclaimed Saleh Mohammed
through his clenched teeth, while his black eyes shot fire, and he
rushed away for his weapons, and, by all the horrible din that his
Hindostanee drummers and buglers could make, summoned his
quaint-looking followers to arms; for, in that lawless land, he knew
not whose swords might be uplifted against them now, as the downfall
of Ackbar would encourage all to make spoil of his adherents. Even
in the kingdom of Afghanistan there were bitter quarrels, and the
tribes were all divided against each other now.
In a moment the fort became a scene of the most unwonted bustle. The
Dooranees are one of the bravest of the Afghan clans, and this party
of them prepared to make a resolute defence, and, if necessary, to
sell their lives as dearly as possible. Muskets, matchlocks, and
jingalls were loaded on every hand. The gate of the fort was hastily
closed and barricaded behind with earth, and an old brass 9-pounder
gun, covered with Indian characters--a perilous and too probably
honeycombed piece of ordnance, which was found in the place--was
propped on a heap of stones, just inside the entrance, where it was
loaded with bottles, nails, and other missiles, to sweep a storming
party.
Meanwhile all the European male prisoners, under Major Pottinger,
were now armed to make common cause with their late guards; and among
them many a pale cheek flushed, and many a hollow eye lighted up once
more, at the prospect of a conflict, though the weapons with which
our poor fellows were armed were only quaint matchlocks, rusty
tulwars, and old notched Afghan sabres.
And now in front of the column of advancing horse, two cavaliers came
galloping on at headlong speed, far before all their comrades, whose
ranks were loose and confused, and all unlike Europeans; so Saleh
Mohammed, his face darkened by a scowl, his eyes glistening like
those of a rattlesnake, and his white beard floating on the wind,
crouched behind the old and mouldering wall, adjusting with his own
hands a clumsy jingall, or swivel wall-piece, with the iron one-pound
shot of which he was prepared to empty the saddle of one of those two
adventurous riders--he cared not a jot which.
Thus far we have followed Anglo-Indian history; and now to resume
more particularly our own narrative.