might have been found from Ferozepore to Cabul than down the bank
of the Indus to Bukkur, thence, across the river, by Shikarpoor and
Dadur, through the Bolan Pass, to Quettah, and from Quettah, through
the Kojuck, by Candahar and Ghuznee to Cabul. In short, as Kaye points
out, the army was about to traverse two sides of a triangle, instead of
shaping its course along a third. But there were two important reasons
for the choice of the longer route. In the first place, Runjeet Singh
had strong objections to opening the Punjab to our troops; and in the
second place the Ameers of Sindh were to be "coerced."
Shikarpoor, on the northern bank of the Indus, had originally formed
a part of the great Douranee Empire, handed down by Timour to Zemaun
Shah and his brothers, intact as it had been received from the founder,
Ahmed. But piece by piece the kingdom had been dismembered through
the quarrels and weaknesses of its rulers. Cashmere, and Mooltan, and
Peshawur had been won by the Sikhs; Herat had risen to independence;
while Shikarpoor with a fair slice of the southern frontier had passed
to the Ameers of Sindh. But though Shikarpoor was theirs, they held, or
had held it, in consideration only of a yearly tribute, which tribute,
unpaid through many years, had now swelled, as Soojah maintained, to no
less a sum than twenty lakhs of rupees, a sum gratuitously increased by
the English Government to twenty-five lakhs, that the terms of Runjeet
Singh (who was to have received half, but had lately increased his
wants) might be granted without Soojah being the sufferer. The Ameers
themselves, however, told a different tale. Independently of their
not unreasonable objections to the validity of a claim that had been
suffered to slumber for upwards of thirty years, they were enabled
triumphantly, as they supposed, to point to two releases of the debt,
written in Korans, and signed and sealed by Soojah. Thus fortified,
they declared to Colonel Pottinger, our agent at Hyderabad, that "they
were sure the Governor-General did not intend to make them pay again
for what they had already bought and obtained, in the most binding way,
a receipt in full"--a mark of confidence which Pottinger was instructed
to demolish without delay. Nor was this the only difficulty that the
passage through Sindh promised to present. In the treaty which had
opened the Indus to navigation, it had been expressly stipulated that
the river should be free to commerce only, and it became therefore
necessary, for the transport of our army, that this treaty should be
broken. Pottinger, sorely against his will, was ordered to point out
to the Ameers that if they placed any obstacles in the way of the
"first and necessary" undertaking on which their English friends had
embarked, it would be the painful duty of those friends to take steps
to ensure a more ready and hearty co-operation. In other words, the
Ameers were told that if they did not do what was wanted of them, they
would be turned out to make room for those who would. They must pay
the twenty-five lakhs of rupees, the greater part of which would go
into the pockets of a man to whom they were indebted not one single
anna; they must consent to the violation of the treaty of the Indus,
and they must further the advance of our army through their territory
in every possible way. If they did not agree to these demands, they
would find the consequences disagreeable. It did not at first appear
that they were likely to agree. Burnes had, indeed, managed to settle
the difficulty of the Indus, and the Ameers of Khyrpore, more tractable
than the Hyderabad princes, had agreed temporarily to cede to the
British the fortress of Bukkur, the point selected for the passage.
Soojah with his levies, who were some days' march in advance of the
Bengal column, had already crossed, and was waiting our arrival at
Shikarpoor, but for a while it seemed extremely doubtful when we should
be able to join him. The Ameers were waxing turbulent. They had grossly
insulted Pottinger, and were openly collecting forces for the defence
of their capital. It was feared that the "painful duty" would be found
necessary, and orders were despatched to Keane (who had landed with the
Bombay army at Vikkur in the end of November, but had been temporarily
delayed at Tattah for want of carriage) to prepare to co-operate with
Cotton against Hyderabad. As the Bombay column moved up the right bank
of the river, the Bengal column, against the urgent remonstrances of
Macnaghten, moved down the left bank to meet it. Both forces were in
the highest spirits. The defences of Hyderabad were known to be weak;
its treasures were believed to be immense, and a prospect of unbounded
loot danced before the eyes of a soldiery who had almost forgotten what
the word meant. At the eleventh hour, however, the enchanting prospect
faded. The Ameers consented to our demands; a part of the tribute was
paid, and Hyderabad was saved for a time; while, what was then of
still more importance, a collision between the military and political
authorities was avoided.
On February 20th, 1839, Cotton was at Shikarpoor, and again differences
between him and Macnaghten seemed imminent. Soojah had found himself
short of carriage, and Macnaghten had asked Cotton to supply him with
1000 camels from his own train. But the General expressed himself
strongly to the effect that if Soojah was unable to advance his men,
it were far better that Soojah and his men should be left behind than
that their wants should be relieved at the expense of the English
troops. It was but too apparent, even at that early stage, that the
English military officers were inclined to look upon Soojah and his
6000 soldiers as altogether superfluous. He was, indeed, a king who
was to be restored to his throne, but until the throne was ready for
him it would be better for all parties that he should remain in the
background. Macnaghten, keenly alive to the danger of such sentiments,
and feeling himself especially bound, both in honour and interest, to
uphold the cause of our ally, combated the military policy resolutely.
A collision was happily averted by the timely arrival of despatches
from the Viceroy, strongly tending to confirm Macnaghten's views;
nevertheless, when the English force advanced, three days afterwards,
the carriage difficulty had not been solved, and Soojah with his levies
remained at Shikarpoor. Keane, who came up with the Bombay army some
days later, though little less willing, was more able to help; but the
king, who had fondly hoped to head the advance into his own kingdom,
was, for the time, compelled to content himself with a second place.
Cotton's march through the Bolan Pass to Quettah, though arduous and
painful, was unopposed. Many of the camels and other beasts of burden
dropped dead on the route from want of water; there was considerable
desertion among the camp followers, and some plundering on the part of
the Beloochees, but progress was steadily made, and on March 26th the
column reached Quettah, "a most miserable mud town, with a small castle
on a mound, on which there was a small gun on a ricketty carriage."
Here there seemed a fair prospect of sheer starvation. Stores, as well
as baggage, had been abandoned among the rugged defiles of the Bolan
Pass, and Mehrab Khan, the Beloochee Prince of Khelat, with whom Burnes
had concluded a treaty in our favour, either could not, or would not,
help. He declared that there was very little grain in his country,
and Burnes could not prove that he did not speak truth, while he was
bound to allow the Khan's plea that much of the alleged scarcity was
owing, though unavoidably owing, to our own presence. He could not,
therefore, conscientiously recommend Macnaghten to sanction Cotton's
proposal for a movement on Khelat, though convinced in his own mind of
our ally's treachery, and when Keane, arriving at Quettah on April 6th,
assumed the chief command, it was decided to push on for Candahar with
all possible speed. Save for the heat, and the scarcity of water, the
advance proceeded uneventfully enough. Our soldiers behaved admirably
under circumstances peculiarly trying to Europeans, and experienced
by many of them for the first time. George Lawrence (one of the three
owners of a name which is a household word throughout India, at that
time a captain of the 2nd Bengal Light Cavalry) relates how he saw a
trooper of the 16th Lancers pour the contents of a soda-water bottle
half full of water, a treasure then worth its weight in gold, down
the throat of a native child on the point of perishing from thirst.
As the army neared Candahar, Soojah was moved up again to the front,
and many of the chiefs and people of Western Afghanistan hastened to
his standard. It was known that Kohun Dil Khan had fled, that there
was open dissension among the Barukzye brotherhood, and it soon became
clear that if a stand was to be made it would be made at a point nearer
Cabul. On April 25th, Shah Soojah-ool-Moolk, after more than thirty
years of exile, re-entered in bloodless triumph the southern capital of
his kingdom.
Till June 27th the army lay at Candahar, waiting the ripening of the
crops. So long a period of forced inactivity was distasteful to the
troops, while daily the conviction forced itself on the more observant
of the officers that the popularity which Soojah had claimed for
himself existed only in his own imagination. The Douranee tribes had,
indeed, long yearned to shake off the hateful yoke of the Barukzye
Sirdars, by whom they had been systematically plundered and oppressed;
but they lacked both spirit and strength to make common cause with
their promised deliverer, while both their national and religious
feelings were alike stirred by the appearance within their gates of
the accursed infidels. When the first cravings of curiosity had been
gratified, their attitude to their king was one rather of indifference
than devotion, and to us one of undisguised if not active enmity. It
needed not the warning of Soojah to remind the English that they were
no longer in Hindostan. Two young officers, Inverarity, of the 16th
Lancers, and Wilmer, were attacked at a short distance from camp;
Inverarity was murdered, and his companion escaped with difficulty.
The Ghilzyes, a fierce and lawless tribe, the original lords of the
soil, alike rejecting British gold and British promises, began, too,
to give early promise of the stern opposition that was hereafter to
be experienced from them. When, a fortnight after his arrival, Soojah
held a grand state reception, scarcely one of his subjects appeared to
do homage to their king. A royal salute of 101 guns was fired in his
honour; the British troops marched past his throne in imposing array,
and Soojah, highly elated, declared that the moral influence of the
ceremony would be felt "from Pekin to Constantinople." But in reality,
the whole affair, so far as what should have been its most important
features were concerned, was a miserable failure. Lawrence relates a
significant speech made to him by an Afghan of distinction, whom he
fell in with while on reconnoitering service to the front. "What could
induce you," said the man, "to squander crores of rupees in coming to
a poor rocky country like ours, without wood or water, in order to
force upon us an unlucky person as a king, who, the moment you turn
your backs, will be upset by Dost Mahomed, our own king?" The order to
advance given on June 27th was heard therefore with pleasure by all;
and on July 21st the army was encamped before the famous citadel of
Ghuznee.
It became soon evident that a serious mistake had been committed.
Ghuznee was deservedly considered the strongest fortress in the
country, and its defences were the boast of all Afghanistan. Keane had,
indeed, been advised to the contrary, but he knew at least that it was
garrisoned by about 3000 of the enemy under Hyder Khan, one of the
Ameer's sons, while another was reported to be in the neighbourhood
with a strong body of horse. Nevertheless, discarding the battering
train, which had been tugged up to Candahar with immense labour and
expense, he resumed his march with light field-pieces only, and found
himself accordingly before a place subsequently described by himself as
one "of great strength, both by nature and art," without the means of
effecting a breach in its walls.
Our light companies soon cleared the villages and gardens surrounding
the fort, not, however, without some loss, and at daybreak on the 22nd
Keane and Cotton, with a party of engineers, reconnoitred the place
from the heights commanding the eastern face. It was perfectly evident
that the field-pieces might for all practical purposes have been left
behind with the siege train at Candahar, but treachery was to show
us a way in, which we could have found for ourselves only at immense
loss. One of the garrison, a Barukzye of rank, nephew to the Ameer
himself, had deserted to our camp; the gates, he assured us, had all
been built up with the exception of the Cabul gate, and by the Cabul
gate therefore it was decided that the entrance should be made. That
very night was chosen for the attack. Four English regiments were
detailed for service; the 2nd, 13th, and 17th of the Line, and the
Company's European Regiment. Colonel Dennie, of the 13th, was to lead
the advance, consisting of the light companies of the four regiments,
and the main column was placed under Brigadier Sale. Captain Thomson,
of the Bengal Engineers, was to superintend the explosion party, with
his two subalterns, Durand (afterwards Sir Henry Durand) and Macleod,
and Captain Peat, of the Bombay corps. The night was dark and stormy.
The light guns were ordered to open fire, to distract the attention
of the garrison, while the powder-bags were piled at the gate. The
work was done quickly, quietly and well. Durand, according to one
account, finding the first application of the port-fire of no effect,
was obliged to scrape the hose with his finger-nails; then the powder
exploded, and with a mighty crash, heard above the roaring of the
guns and the noise of the storm, down, amid a column of black smoke,
came huge masses of timber and masonry in dire confusion. In rushed
Dennie at the head of the stormers, and after him pressed Sale with the
main column. The resistance, though short, was stubborn. The breach
was still so narrow that entrance was difficult and slow. Dennie had
won his way inside, but between him and Sale a strong party of the
garrison had made their way to the gate. The Brigadier himself was
cut down, but after a desperate struggle regained his feet, cleaving
his opponent to the chin. The supports, under Colonel Croker, pushed
forward manfully, and as the day broke the colours of the 13th and 17th
Regiments were flung out to the morning breeze on the ramparts of the
Afghans' strongest fort. Ghuznee was ours, with a loss of 17 killed and
165 wounded, of whom 18 were officers. The loss of the garrison was
never accurately known. Upwards of 500 were buried by our men, and many
more were supposed to have fallen beyond the walls under the sabres of
our cavalry; 1600 prisoners were taken, and large stores of grain and
flour proved a welcome addition to the value of the prize.
With the fall of Ghuznee fell the hopes of Dost Mahomed. Within little
more than twenty-four hours the news had reached him, and his brother,
Jubbar Khan, was forthwith despatched to the English camp, proffering
submission to Soojah, but claiming for his brother the office of
Vizier, which had come to be considered a sort of hereditary appanage
of the Barukzye clan. The offer was declined, and what Kaye calls the
"mockery" of an honourable asylum in the British dominions suggested
in its stead. With an indignant refusal the envoy returned to his
brother, and Dost Mahomed then resolved on one last attempt. He moved
out from the capital, designing to take up his ground at Maidan, a
well-chosen spot on the Cabul river. But when he had reached Urgundeh,
he saw too clearly that the game was up. Hadji Khan, a man in whom
he had placed peculiar reliance, had gone over to the enemy; the
Kuzzilbashes were leaving him fast. With the Koran in his hand, he rode
among his troops. "You have eaten my salt," he said, "these thirteen
years. If, as is too plain, you are resolved to seek a new master,
grant me but one favour in requital for that long period of maintenance
and kindness--enable me to die with honour. Stand by the brother of
Futteh Khan while he executes one last charge against the cavalry of
these Feringhee dogs; in that onset he will fall; then go and make
your own terms with Shah Soojah." The appeal was in vain. Dismissing
all of his followers who were minded to purchase safety by bowing to
the new allegiance, he turned his horse's head, and rode towards the
Hindoo-Koosh.
A party of horse under the gallant Outram was despatched in hot
pursuit. Twelve English officers rode with him, Lawrence among the
number, and about 200 of our own men. Had the party been no larger
it is probable that it would not have been left to Dost Mahomed to
surrender at his own discretion. But in an evil hour it was decided
that Hadji Khan with 500 Afghans should be added, and the dilatoriness
of our "allies" wholly neutralised the energies of our own men. Hadji,
a traitor once, remained a traitor still, and though quick to leave his
master in the hour of his misfortunes, he had no intention, with an
eye to future contingencies, to commit himself beyond hope of recall.
The harder, then, Outram and his troops rode, the slower rode the Khan
and his following; every pretext that the ingenious Eastern mind could
devise for delay was turned to account, and as the country was wholly
unknown to the English leader he could not leave Hadji to his devices
and push on alone after the fugitive. His orders were not to continue
the chase beyond the Afghan frontier. On August 9th he reached Bamean,
to find that his game was but a day's march before him; but that one
day's march had sounded the recall. Dost Mahomed was over the frontier,
and there was nothing left for Outram but to return, to be laughed at
for his "wild-goose chase," and to hear from the Commander-in-chief
that "he had not supposed there were thirteen such asses in his whole
force!" It is satisfactory, however, to know that the traitor Hadji had
this time over-reached himself. Outram reported his conduct on his
return; other proofs of his treason were forthcoming; he was arrested
by order of the king, and spent the remainder of his life a state
prisoner in Hindostan.
So Soojah was once more seated on the throne of Cabul. He had entered
the city on August 6th in royal pomp, resplendent with jewels (among
which the mighty Koh-i-noor was this time conspicuous by its absence),
mounted on a white charger, half smothered in golden trappings;
Macnaghten and Burnes, in diplomatic costume, rode with him, and all
the chief officers of the English army swelled his train. But there was
no popular enthusiasm; there were no loyal cries of welcome. The people
flocked to stare at the show, but it was at the white-faced strangers
they stared, not at their restored king. Still, the work had been
done. The English flag had waved over Candahar and Ghuznee; an English
army was encamped before Cabul. The usurpers were in flight, and the
"rightful" king had returned again to his own.
According to the original terms of the proclamation, the British
troops, their mission accomplished, were at once to withdraw from the
country. Soojah himself was anxious to be rid of allies in whose hands
he was conscious he was and could be no more than a puppet, and whose
presence in the kingdom was a standing testimony to the absence of
that loyalty which he had so loudly vaunted. Nothing would have better
pleased the English themselves than to have acquiesced in the king's
wishes; nothing would have pleased Lord Auckland better than that they
should do so. But it could not be. Unprotected by British bayonets
the throne of the new king would not have stood for a day, and with
it would have fallen the feeble fabric on which the "justice" of the
expedition rested. The Simlah manifesto had declared that Soojah's
"popularity throughout Afghanistan had been proved to his lordship
by the strong and unanimous testimony of the best authorities;" how
then could his lordship leave Soojah alone to give the lie to his own
manifesto? But though it was expedient that an English force should
still, at least for a time, continue at the king's right hand, it was
neither expedient, nor, as it was thought, necessary that the entire
army should remain. A garrison at Cabul and Candahar, and others at the
principal posts on the main roads to Hindostan, Ghuznee and Quettah on
the west, and Jellalabad and Ali-Musjid on the east, would be amply
sufficient. These could be furnished by a portion of the Bengal army,
and the remainder could be withdrawn by way of Jellalabad and the
Khyber Pass, while the Bombay column could return _en masse_ through
the Bolan Pass. Such was the advice of the Commander-in-chief, and
such, as it soon appeared, was the opinion of the Viceroy himself.
Before, however, the homeward march began, Wade had brought Prince
Timour to his father's court. Wade's share in the expedition, though
dwarfed by the more brilliant exploits of Keane, had, notwithstanding
the disaffection of the Sikhs (who, after Runjeet Singh's death, had
not cared to conceal their dislike of their English allies), been
performed with complete success, and had moreover materially assisted
the march of the larger force. For a long time Dost Mahomed had
regarded the advance through the Khyber with far greater anxiety than
that along the Western route, and though his troops had never actually
encountered Wade in the field, a considerable detachment had been
withdrawn for that purpose from the main army at a very critical moment.
The official order for the departure of the troops appeared on October
2nd. It was at once seen that the first plan had been considerably
altered. Nearly the whole of the Bengal division was to remain behind
under Cotton, and only a comparatively small detachment was to return
home with Keane and the Bombay army. Though Dost Mahomed had fled the
kingdom, he was known to be still near at hand, a guest among the fiery
and hostile Oosbegs, with whom he might at any rate seriously harass
the frontier, if not, indeed, find himself strong enough to hazard an
advance upon the capital. A detachment had therefore been sent up in
September to the Hindoo-Koosh, and it became necessary to supply their
place at Cabul. The 13th, 40th, and 41st were the English regiments
that remained. Of these, the first named, with the 35th Bengal Native
Infantry and three light field guns, was stationed at Cabul, under
Dennie. Jellalabad was garrisoned by the 48th Bengal Native Infantry,
the 3rd Bengal Light Cavalry, some Sappers and Miners, three light
guns, and a detachment of Skinner's Horse. At Candahar, under Nott,
were the 40th and 41st Regiments of the Line, the 42nd and 43rd
Regiments of Bengal Native Infantry, a company of the European Bengal
Artillery, two regiments of Soojah's Irregular Infantry, one of his
Cavalry, and a troop of his Horse Artillery. MacLaren held Ghuznee with
the 16th Bengal Native Infantry, some of Skinner's Horse, and certain
details of Soojah's levies. At Quettah was a small force composed of
Soojah's troops only, while the Kojuck Pass was watched by a body of
Afghan horse, under Bosanquet, of the Bengal Infantry. At each of these
posts was also stationed a political officer.