1878-1879
Alikhel--Treachery of the tribesmen--Transport difficulties
--Sher Ali looks to Russia for aid--Khost--An attack on our camp
--An unsuccessful experiment--An unpleasant incident
--Punjab Chiefs' Contingent
Perceiving that further pursuit of the enemy would be useless, I
decided to halt a few days to admit of our overtaxed transport
bringing up supplies and tents, and to arrange for the occupation of
the Peiwar position during the winter months. But I considered that my
work would be incomplete if we stopped short of the Shutargardan Pass.
Moreover, it was very desirable that we should investigate this route,
and, if possible, get into friendly communication with some of the
sections of the Ghilzai tribe. The Jajis, through whose territory
the first part of the road ran, now showed themselves to be as
well disposed as the Turis; they readily brought in supplies, and
volunteered to labour for us, and from the information obtained by
the political officers, the inhabitants of the Hariab valley seemed
equally anxious to be friendly. The dislodgment of the Afghan army by
a much smaller force, from a position they had themselves chosen, had
evidently had a salutary effect.
As soon as I had leisure, I inquired from Colonel Gordon whether he
had been able to discover the men who had fired the signal shots on
the night of the 2nd, and whether he did not think that the Pathan
Native officers ought to be able to point out the offenders. Gordon
replied that he suspected the Jemadar of the Pathan company knew who
the culprits were, and that one soldier had confessed to firing the
second shot; moreover, he told me that eighteen Pathans had left the
regiment during the fight. On receiving this unpleasant information,
I assembled a Court of Inquiry, with orders to have the proceedings
ready for my consideration by the time I returned from the
Shutargardan.
[Illustration: ONE OF MY PATHAN ORDERLIES.
_From a water-colour sketch by Colonel Woodthorpe, C.B., R.E._]
Having despatched the sick and wounded to Kuram and made all necessary
arrangements, I marched on the 6th December to Alikhel, twelve miles
on the road to the Shutargardan. Before starting, I issued an order
thanking the troops for the efforts they had made to ensure success,
and I had the honour of communicating to them at the same time a
congratulatory message from the Queen.[1]
We reached the foot of the Shutargardan on the 8th, and reconnoitred
to the top of the pass the next morning. This point was 11,000 feet
above the sea, commanded a fine view of the Logar valley, and I
discovered from it that there was nothing between us and the immediate
vicinity of Kabul to prevent a force moving rapidly on that place.
We returned to Alikhel on the 10th, and, as it was important to retain
control of this advanced post, I decided to leave Captain Rennick in
political charge, a duty for which his nerve and determination of
character eminently fitted him. Colonel Waterfield, as a temporary
arrangement, remained there also with a battery of Artillery and two
regiments of Punjab Infantry, for the purpose of establishing friendly
relations with the neighbouring tribesmen.
From Alikhel there were said to be two roads leading to Kuram, besides
the difficult path over the Peiwar Kotal; and as it was of
great importance to gain a knowledge of an alternative line of
communication, in view of further trouble, I determined to explore one
of them, choosing that which appeared to be the shortest, and which I
heard had been used some time before by an Afghan Mountain battery.
This route was described as practicable for camels, and ran through
lands belonging to tribes whose headmen were with me, a fact which
should, I thought, ensure our being free from attack.
I left Alikhel on the 12th December, taking with me No. 1 Mountain
Battery, a wing 72nd Highlanders, the 5th Gurkhas, and the 23rd
Pioneers. The route lay for four miles along the banks of the Hariab
stream, a tributary of the Kuram river, through a valley which
gradually narrowed into a thickly-wooded ravine, three miles long: at
the end of this ravine the road, turning sharply to the left, ascended
till it reached an open grassy plateau, on which stood the hamlet of
Sapari. The inhabitants turned out to welcome us, bringing supplies,
and appearing so friendly that I settled to halt there for the night.
I had been warned, however, by the _maliks_ of some of the villages we
had passed through in the morning, that we should probably be attacked
on the march the next day, and that a defile which lay at the other
side of a mountain over which we had to cross would be particularly
dangerous to us. I determined, therefore, to send on troops that
evening to occupy the pass over this mountain, and to start the
baggage off long before daybreak, so that it should be out of the way
of the main body, which would also have to march at an early hour in
order to reach the kotal before the tribesmen had time to collect.
This could have been accomplished without difficulty, but for the
machinations of our false friends in the village, who directed on to
the precipitous path we had to ascend a stream of water which soon
turned into a sheet of ice, and when I arrived on the spot I found
the road blocked by fallen animals vainly struggling to regain their
footing. This caused so much delay that it was nearly noon before the
last camel had got over the pass.
The descent on the other side was scarcely less difficult, though free
from ice. We dropped 3,000 feet in the first two miles, down a way
which can only be described as a ruined staircase, with the steps
missing at intervals, ending in the defile against the dangers of
which we had been warned. This defile was certainly a nasty place to
be caught in, being five miles long, and so narrow that the camels'
loads struck against the rocks on either side; and it was impossible
to move flanking parties along the cliffs above, as they were
intersected by wide chasms running back for long distances.
It was important to secure the exit from this gorge without delay, and
for this purpose I pushed on four companies of the 23rd Pioneers, and
in support, when the ravine began to widen out a little, I hurried
on the Highlanders and the Mountain battery, leaving the Gurkhas to
protect the baggage and bring up the rear.
We only got possession of the exit just in time. The Pioneers,
by occupying commanding positions on either side of the opening,
effectually checkmated several large bodies of armed men who were
approaching from different directions, and whose leaders now declared
they had only come to help us! Later on we discovered still more
formidable gatherings, which doubtless would have all combined to
attack us, had they been in time to catch us in the ravine.
The tail of the column was followed and much harassed by the enemy;
but they were kept at bay by the steadiness of the gallant Gurkhas,
and so successful were they in safe-guarding the baggage, that,
although many of the drivers ran away at the first shot, leaving the
soldiers to lead the animals as well as defend them, not a single
article fell into the hands of the tribesmen. The regiment lost three
men killed, and Captain Powell and eleven men wounded. Captain Goad,
of the Transport Department, was also badly hurt.[2]
[Illustration: ONE OF MY PATHAN ORDERLIES.
_From a water-colour sketch by Colonel Woodthorpe, C.B., R.E._]
On Goad being knocked over, Sergeant Greer, of the 72nd Highlanders,
assisted by three privates, picked him up, and having placed him under
cover of a rock, they turned their attention to the enemy. They were
only four against large numbers, but by their cool and steady use of
the Martini-Henry rifle, which had shortly before been issued to the
British soldiers in India, they were enabled to hold their ground
until help arrived, when they succeeded in carrying the wounded
officer away.
I had observed in the advance on the Peiwar Kotal the skill and
gallantry displayed by Sergeant Greer, and noted him as a man fitted
for promotion. His distinguished conduct in rescuing and defending
Goad confirmed me in my opinion, and I accordingly recommended him
for a commission, which, to my great gratification, Her Majesty was
graciously pleased to bestow upon him.
That night we halted at the village of Keria; thence the route was
easy enough, so, leaving the troops to rest and recover from the last
hard march, I rode on to Kuram, where there was much to be done.
The ejectment of the Afghan ruler of Khost and the exploration of that
valley formed, it will be remembered, part of the programme given
to me to carry through, and it was very desirable that this service
should be completed before the winter rains set in. Peace and order
now reigned in Upper Kuram and in the neighbourhood of the Peiwar; but
there was a good deal of excitement in the lower part of the valley
and in Khost, our line of communication was constantly harassed by
raiders, convoys were continually threatened, outposts fired into, and
telegraph-wires cut. The smallness of my force made it difficult for
me to deal with these troubles, so I applied to the Commander-in-Chief
for the wing of the 72nd Highlanders left at Kohat, and the 5th Punjab
Cavalry at Thal to be ordered to join me at Kuram. At the same time I
moved up No. 2 Mountain Battery and the 28th Punjab Infantry, sending
the 29th Punjab Infantry to take the place of the 28th at Thal.
I was greatly hampered by want of transport. Arrangements had to be
made for sending the sick and wounded, as well as the captured guns,
to Kohat (the sight of the latter, I fancied, would have a good effect
on the tribes in our rear); but hard work, scarcity of forage, and
absence of supervision, had told, as was to be expected, on animals in
bad condition at the outset. Mules and camels died daily, reducing our
all too small numbers to such an extent that it was with considerable
difficulty the convoy was at last despatched.
From the first I foresaw that want of transport would be our greatest
difficulty, and so it proved; very few supplies could be obtained in
the vicinity of Kuram; the troops at Kohat had been drawing on the
adjacent districts ever since October, so that the purchasing
agents had every day to go further away to procure necessaries, and
consequently an increased number of animals were required for their
conveyance. My Commissary-General reported to me that only a few days'
provisions for the troops remained in hand, and that it was impossible
to lay in any reserve unless more transport could be provided. About
this reserve I was very anxious, for the roads might soon become
temporarily impassable from the rising of the rivers after the heavy
rain to be expected about Christmas. Contractors were despatched
to all parts of the country to procure camels, and I suggested to
Government that pack-bullocks should be bought at Mirzapur, and railed
up country, which suggestion being acted upon, the danger of the
troops having to go hungry was warded off.
The treacherous soldiers of the 29th Punjab Infantry had now to be
dealt with--a necessary, but most unpleasant, duty. A perusal of the
proceedings of the Court of Inquiry satisfied me that the two men who
discharged their rifles during the night-march, the Jemadar of their
company who failed to report their criminal action, and the eighteen
who deserted their colours during the engagement, should all be tried
by Court-Martial.
The prisoners were found guilty. The sepoy who fired the first shot
was sentenced to death, and the one who discharged the second to
two years' imprisonment with hard labour; the court, recognizing a
possibility that the latter, being a young soldier, might have loaded
and fired without intending treachery, gave him the benefit of the
doubt. The Jemadar was awarded seven years' transportation, and the
eighteen deserters terms varying from ten years to one year.
It was with deep regret that I confirmed these several sentences, but
it was necessary that a deterrent example should be made. Treachery
was altogether too grave a crime to be lightly dealt with, and
desertions amongst the Pathans were becoming of much too frequent
occurrence, particularly as the deserters invariably carried away with
them their rifles and ammunition.
The effect of these sentences was most salutary; there was not a
single desertion subsequent to the Court-Martial for more than a year,
although during that time the Mahomedan portion of my force were
severely tried by appeals from their co-religionists.
On Christmas Eve authentic intelligence was brought to me that, on
hearing of the defeat of the Afghan army, Sher Ali, with the members
of the Russian Mission then at Kabul, had fled to Turkestan, and that
his son, Yakub Khan, had been released from prison, and had assumed
the reins of Government.
About this time, also, Sir Samuel Browne, who was at Jalalabad,
received a letter[3] from the Amir, in which he announced his
intention of proceeding to St. Petersburg to lay his case before the
Czar and obtain the aid of Russia.
Sher Ali's disappearance and Yakub Khan's assumption of authority
suggested new possibilities to the Viceroy, who at once instructed
Major Cavagnari, the political officer with the Khyber column, to
communicate, if possible, with Yakub Khan, and explain to him that our
quarrel was with Sher Ali alone, that he might rest assured of the
friendly disposition of the British Government towards him personally,
and that, unless he took the initiative, hostilities would not be
resumed.
Before proceeding to Kuram, I invited all the Turis and Jajis who
had afforded us assistance to meet me in durbar that they might be
suitably rewarded. A goodly number responded to the invitation, and
were told, in accordance with the instructions I had received from
the Government of India, that they would henceforth be under British
protection; that no Amir of Afghanistan should ever again be permitted
to tyrannize over them; that while they would be expected to live
peaceably, neither their religion nor their customs would be
interfered with; that roads would be made and markets established, and
that whatever supplies they could provide for the use of the troops
would be liberally paid for.
After this I started for Khost, accompanied by Colonel Waterfield, the
political officer.
The column I took with me consisted of the squadron of the 10th
Hussars, 200 of the 72nd Highlanders, a wing of the 5th Punjab
Cavalry, the 21st and 28th Punjab Infantry, and Nos. 1 and 2 Mountain
Batteries. The corps were so weak that their total strength only
amounted to 2,000 men.
We reached Matun, the name given to some three villages grouped round
a small fort in the centre of the valley, on the 6th January, 1879.
The Afghan Governor, with whom I had been in communication, met me and
arranged to surrender the fort, on condition that his personal safety
should be guaranteed, and that he should be allowed to go either to
Kabul or India, as he might desire.
About half a mile from the fort I halted the column, and taking a
small escort of the 10th Hussars, I rode on with the Governor, who
invited me with my staff into his house. While tea was being handed
round, the Governor (Akram Khan by name) warned me that we should be
attacked, and that he could do nothing to prevent it, having only some
200 local militia and no regular troops. He further said that the
inhabitants of the valley were not directly opposed to the British
Government, and, if left to themselves, would give no trouble; but he
doubted their being able to resist the pressure put upon them by
a large number of tribesmen who had collected from the adjacent
districts, attracted by the smallness of the force, which they
believed 'had been delivered into their hands.'
This intelligence showed me I must be prepared for a scrimmage, so I
ordered the camp to be pitched in the form of a square as compactly as
possible, with the transport animals and impedimenta in the centre,
and strong piquets at the four angles. Cavalry patrols were sent out
as far as the broken and hilly nature of the ground would permit, and
every endeavour was made to ascertain the strength and whereabouts
of the enemy, but to no purpose: the enemy were invisible, and
the patrols reported that they had come across numbers of
peaceable-looking husbandmen, but no one else.
The night passed off quietly, but when advancing day made them
visible, multitudes of tribesmen were descried collecting on the
slopes of the neighbouring hills. Some friendly Natives were sent to
ascertain their intentions, followed by a Cavalry reconnoitring party,
when suddenly a number of camel-drivers and mule-men, who had gone to
the nearest village to procure fodder for their animals, came rushing
back to camp in the wildest terror and excitement, declaring that
the enemy seemed to rise as if by magic out of the ground, and that
several thousands were already in the village. No doubt some of these
were 'the peaceable-looking husbandmen' the patrols had encountered
the previous day. I now became somewhat anxious, not only for the
safety of the reconnoitring party, which appeared to be in danger of
being cut off, but for that of the whole force; such a mere handful as
we were compared to the numbers arrayed against us.
Vigorous action was evidently necessary. Accordingly, I ordered all
the available Cavalry (only 70 men of the 10th Hussars, and 155 of
the 5th Punjab Cavalry), under Colonel Hugh Gough, to follow the
reconnoitring party in case of their being so hard pressed as to have
to retire, and Captain Swinley's Mountain battery, with six companies
of the 28th Punjab Infantry, under Colonel Hudson,[4] to move out
in support. Colonel Drew I left in charge of the camp, with 200
Highlanders, the 21st Punjab Infantry, and a Mountain battery. I
myself joined Gough, who, by dismounted fire and several bold charges,
notwithstanding the difficult nature of the ground, succeeded in
driving the enemy to the highest ridges, over which Swinley's
well-directed fire eventually forced them to retreat.
Heavy firing was now heard in the direction of our camp, and I hurried
back, taking with me a troop of the 5th Punjab Cavalry. I found that
during my absence Drew had been attacked on two sides; he had been
able to prevent the enemy from coming to close quarters, but they were
still hovering about at no great distance, and I thought it advisable
to clear them away by moving out against them with all the troops
at my disposal. As we approached, they disappeared with their usual
rapidity; the 5th Punjab Cavalry, however, got in amongst some of
them, and we returned to camp with 100 prisoners, 500 head of cattle,
some sheep, and a large quantity of grain.
The tribesmen, however, had not been sufficiently punished to prevent
a repetition of the attack, probably with largely increased numbers;
so I ordered the destruction of the hamlets nearest us, in which they
had been sheltered and some of our camp followers had been murdered.
The next night a most unfortunate occurrence took place, resulting in
the death of six of our prisoners; but it was just one of those things
which could hardly have been foreseen or guarded against, and for
which, however lamentable, no one was to blame. The headmen of the
particular Waziri tribe to which the captives belonged had been
summoned during the day, and told that the men would be released on
payment of a sum of fifty rupees each. The money was paid down at once
for a certain number, who were immediately set free; but there was not
quite enough for all, and the headmen went off to procure what was
required for the ransom of the remainder. Soon after dark, however,
some of the enemy[5] were discovered creeping up the banks of a nulla
at the back of the camp, where the unransomed men were detained under
a guard; the nearest sentry instantly fired, and the piquets all round
took up the firing, thinking that another attack on the camp had
commenced. At the sound of the first shot the prisoners all jumped to
their feet, and calling to each other to escape, attempted to seize
the rifles belonging to the guard, upon which the Native officer in
command (a Pathan like themselves) told them that if they persisted in
trying to escape, they would be shot. His words had no effect, and to
prevent his men being overpowered, he gave the order to fire. Six
of the prisoners were killed and thirteen wounded. It was a most
regrettable affair, but a Court of Inquiry decided that the Native
officer had no option, and completely exonerated the guard from
acting with undue severity. The wounded were, of course, taken to our
hospital, and well cared for by our Doctors.[6]
The remainder of our sojourn in Khost was not marked by any incident
of particular interest. We marched to the end of the valley, and made
a careful survey of it and of the surrounding hills.
The instructions I received with regard to Khost were, to occupy the
valley and dislodge the Afghan administration therefrom. To my great
chagrin, the smallness of my force made it impossible for me to give
effect to these instructions as I could have wished. To have remained
in Khost under the circumstances would have been to court disaster;
the numbers of the enemy were daily increasing, and it would have been
impossible to hold our own. It was, however, of great importance, if
practicable, to retain some control over the valley, a peculiarly
productive district, which, if left alone by us, I feared would become
a centre of dangerous intrigue against any settled government in
Kuram. Accordingly I determined to try how placing Khost in charge of
one of our own Native officials would answer, and I selected for the
position Shahzada Sultan Jan, a Saddozai gentleman of good birth, and
a Sunni Mahomedan in religion, who, I thought, would be a _persona
grata_ to the Khostwals, and, if supported by some Native levies, and
associated in his administrative duties with the chief _maliks_ of
Khost, would be more likely to hold his own than anyone else I could
place there. This was, however, a mere experiment, and I did not
disguise from myself that its success was very doubtful; but it was
the only way in which I could attempt to carry out the orders of
Government, my hands being so completely tied by paucity of troops. I
had no fear for the Shahzada's personal safety, and I felt that, if
in the end I should be obliged to abandon Khost altogether for the
present, it could later, if necessary, be easily re-occupied with a
somewhat larger force.
Having decided on the course to be adopted, I held a durbar, which was
numerously attended, and addressed the people of Khost in much the
same way I had spoken to the Turis in Kuram, expressing a hope that
they would support the Shahzada's authority until a more permanent
form of government could be established.
On the 27th January we left Khost and made one march; the next day
I halted, so as to be near the Shahzada in case of need. The
intelligence brought to me that evening satisfied me that my
experiment would not answer, and that without troops (which I could
not spare) to support the newly-established authority at first
starting off, we could not hope to maintain any hold over the country;
for though the Khostwals themselves were perfectly content with the
arrangements I had made, they could not resist the tribesmen, who
directly our backs were turned began to show their teeth. Accordingly,
I decided to bring the Shahzada away while I could do so without
trouble. I marched back to Matun the next morning with 1,000 men
(Cavalry and Infantry) and four Mountain guns. We found Sultan Jan in
anything but a happy frame of mind, and quite ready to come away. So
having formally made the place over to the _maliks_, we started on our
return journey. As we departed, a collection of our tribal enemies
(about 3,000) who had been watching the proceedings took the
opportunity to attack us; but two weak squadrons of Cavalry, skilfully
handled by Hugh Gough, kept them in check, and we reached camp without
further molestation.
The next day, the last of January, we returned to Hazir Pir in Kuram.
There I received a visit from Sirdar Wali Mahomed Khan, brother of
Sher Ali, who was accompanied by several leading men of the Logar
valley, some of whom were of great assistance to me a few months
later. Wali Mahomed was a man of about fifty years of age; he had a
pleasing countenance, of the same Jewish type as the majority of the
Afghan nation, but he had a weak face and was evidently wanting in
character. He told me that he had fled from Kabul to escape the
vengeance of his nephew, Yakub Khan, who attributed his long
imprisonment by his father to the Sirdar's influence. Sir Samuel
Browne and Major Cavagnari, on the Khyber line, were conducting all
political negotiations with the Afghans, so I passed Wali Mahomed Khan
on to them.
During the month of February my time was chiefly employed in
inspecting the roads and the defensive posts which my talented
and indefatigable Chief Engineer was constructing, examining the
arrangements for housing the troops, and looking after the transport
animals and Commissariat depots. No more military demonstrations were
necessary, for the people were quietly settling down under British
rule. Convoys were no longer molested nor telegraph wires cut; but I
had one rather unpleasant incident with regard to a war Correspondent,
which, until the true facts of the case were understood, brought
me into disrepute with one of the leading London newspapers, the
representative of which I felt myself compelled to dismiss from the
Kuram Field Force.
Judging from his telegrams, which he brought to me to sign, the nerves
of the Correspondent in question must have been somewhat shaken by the
few and very distant shots fired at us on the 28th November. These
telegrams being in many instances absolutely incorrect and of the most
alarming nature, were of course not allowed to be despatched until
they had been revised in accordance with truth; but one, evidently
altered and added to after I had countersigned it, was brought to me
by the telegraph master. I sent for the Correspondent, who confessed
to having made the alterations, not apparently realizing that he had
done anything at all reprehensible, but he promised that he would
never do such a thing again. This promise was not kept; telegrams
appeared in his paper which I had not seen before despatch, and which
were most misleading to the British public. Moreover, his letters,
over which I could have no control, and which I heard of for the
first time when the copies of his paper arrived in Kuram, were most
subversive of the truth. It was on the receipt of these letters that I
felt it to be my duty to send the too imaginative author to the rear.
No one could be more anxious than I was to have all details of the
campaign made public. I considered it due to the people of Great
Britain that the press Correspondents should have every opportunity
for giving the fullest and most faithful accounts of what might happen
while the army was in the field, and I took special pains from the
first to treat the Correspondents with confidence, and give them such
information as it was in my power to afford. All I required from them
in return was that the operations should be truthfully reported, and
that any Correspondent who did not confine himself to the recording
of facts, and felt himself competent to criticize the conduct of the
campaign, should be careful to acquaint himself with the many and
varied reasons which a Commander must always have to consider before
deciding on any line of action.
What to my mind was so reprehensible in this Correspondent's conduct
was the publication, in time of war, and consequent excitement and
anxiety at home, of incorrect and sensational statements, founded on
information derived from irresponsible and uninformed sources, and
the alteration of telegrams after they had been countersigned by the
recognized authority, the result of which could only be to keep the
public in a state of apprehension regarding the force in the field,
and, what is even more to be deprecated, to weaken the confidence
of the troops in their Commander. It was satisfactory to me that my
action in the matter met with the fullest approval of the Viceroy.
About this time my column was strengthened by the arrival of the
Contingent provided by the Punjab Chiefs, under the command of
Brigadier General John Watson, my comrade of the Mutiny days. The
Contingent consisted of 868 Cavalry, and 2,685 Infantry with 13 guns,
which were placed in position along the line of communication, and
proved of great use in relieving the Regular army of escort duty.
The senior Native officer with the Punjabis was Bakshi Ganda Sing,
Commander-in-Chief of the Patiala army, a particularly handsome,
gentlemanly Sikh, with whom I have ever since been on terms of
friendly intercourse.
Towards the end of February I paid a visit to Kohat, where my wife met
me; we spent a week together, and I had the pleasure of welcoming to
the frontier that grand regiment, the 92nd Highlanders, which had
been sent up to be in readiness to join my column in the event of an
advance on Kabul becoming necessary.
[Footnote 1:
'FROM THE VICEROY, LAHORE, TO GENERAL ROBERTS.
'_6th December, 1878._
'I have much pleasure in communicating to you and the force
under your command the following telegram just received
Her Majesty, and desire at the same time to add my warm
congratulations on the success achieved. Message begins: "I have
received the news of the decisive victory of General Roberts,
and the splendid behaviour of my brave soldiers, with pride and
satisfaction, though I must ever deplore the unavoidable loss of
life. Pray inquire after the wounded in my name. May we continue
to receive good news."']
[Footnote 2: Both officers died of their wounds soon afterwards.]
[Footnote 3:
'FROM AMIR SHER ALI KHAN TO THE OFFICERS OF THE BRITISH GOVERNMENT.
'Be it known to the officers of the British Government that this
suppliant before God never supposed, nor wished, that the matters
[in dispute] between you and myself should come to this issue
[literally, "should come out from the curtain"], or that the veil
of friendship and amity, which has for many years been upheld
between two neighbours and adjoining States, should, without any
cause, be thus drawn aside.
'And since you have begun the quarrel and hostilities, and have
advanced on Afghan territory, this suppliant before God, with the
unanimous consent and advice of all the nobles, grandees, and of
the army in Afghanistan, having abandoned his troops, his
realm, and all the possessions of his crown, has departed with
expedition, accompanied by a few attendants, to St. Petersburg,
the capital of the Czar of Russia, where, before a congress, the
whole history of the transactions between myself and yourselves
will be submitted to all the Powers [of Europe]. If you
have anything in dispute with me regarding State affairs in
Afghanistan, you should institute and establish your case at St.
Petersburg, and state and explain what you desire, so that the
questions in dispute between us may be made known and clear to all
the Powers. And surely the side of right will not be overlooked.
If your intentions are otherwise, and you entertain hostile and
vindictive feelings towards the people of Afghanistan, God alone
is their Protector and real Preserver. Upon the course of action
here above stated this suppliant before God has resolved and
decided.']
[Footnote 4: The late Lieutenant-General Sir John Hudson, K.C.B., who
died as Commander-in-Chief of the Bombay Army.]
[Footnote 5: No doubt friends of the prisoners, who had come to help
them to escape.]
[Footnote 6: This occurrence was made great capital of by the anti-war
party at home. A member of the House of Commons, in commenting upon
it, said that 'some ninety prisoners, who had been taken, had been
tied together with ropes'; that 'on their making some attempt to
escape they were set upon, and many of them slaughtered in their
bonds'; and that 'the dead, the living, the dying, and the wounded
were left tied together, and lying in one confused mass of bodies.']
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