JELLALABAD (1842)
Position of the town--Sale’s brigade rebuilds the defences--A
sortie--Bad news--A queer noise--A ruse that did not succeed--The
only survivor comes in--Story of a massacre--The earthquake--The
walls are down--Are rebuilt--English magic--Pollock comes--Fight
outside--The peril of Lady Sale.
In November, 1841, the English Resident at the Afghan Court of Cabul
was treacherously assassinated. General Elphinstone, who was left in
command of the English troops, being in feeble health, attempted to
leave the country with his 4,500 troops and three times that number of
camp followers. On the 11th of March, 1842, Akbar Khan with a large
army attacked General Sale at Jellalabad.
Jellalabad is a walled town on the right bank of the Cabul River. The
upper end of the valley is very fertile and picturesque, studded with
forts and villages, but all round the city it is sandy and arid. Snow
mountains close in the valley on all sides.
South of Jellalabad, at a distance of 1,200 yards, is a low range of
limestone hills, and on the south-west other low hills command the
town at 200 yards’ distance. All round the walls were houses, mosques,
old forts, gardens, and trees--in fact, every species of cover that an
enemy could desire.
The walls of the town were 2,100 yards in extent, all in ruinous
condition, and in many places not more than 9 feet high, and easily
scaled. Through breaches in the wall laden cattle and droves of asses
went in and out daily.
Into this town on the evening of the 12th of November, 1841, wearied,
footsore, hungry, short of ammunition, Sale’s brigade entered, to
undertake the desperate task of defending it against the whole power
of the country, the people of which not only hated us as invaders, but
regarded us as infidels to be rooted out.
At a distance of 600 miles from our own frontier, with the formidable
defiles of the Khyber Pass to cross, what would be our condition if
Runjeet Sing should refuse to allow another army to traverse his
territories?
In the meantime these ruinous walls were better than the open plain;
so, after viewing the fortifications, Sale marched the brigade in, and
the inhabitants fled out at the other side as we entered.
It was decided to hold the whole town and try to make it defensible.
Our supply of provisions was so low that the troops had to be put on
half, and the camp followers on quarter, rations. As to ammunition, we
had only 120 rounds per man. We set to work and collected grain, flour,
pulse, and food of all sorts which had been left behind, and in a few
hours supplies for several days had been gathered in.
As parts of the walls had no parapets and the sentries were quite
exposed, hundreds of camel saddles were ranged, two deep and two high,
for the sentries to kneel behind.
The next day many thousands of the enemy came swarming round and set
fire to the grass huts and sheds on the eastern side. Some of them
seemed to be bent on getting into a small mosque near the town, so a
party of sappers, under Major Broadfoot, were sent to see what it
contained.
They discovered a quantity of carbine ammunition, which proved to our
men a timely and welcome supply. From dusk till midnight they kept
firing on our sentries with wild yells. Then they withdrew, and the
troops could snatch some rest.
At early dawn Sale determined on a sortie, and all were aroused without
sound of bugle. Seven hundred infantry and two guns, commanded by
Colonel Monteath, were ordered to sally out at sunrise and attack
the Afghans. There were some 6,000 Afghans waiting to meet them in
the rocky hills at the south-west angle of the city, but they did
not resist long, and the cavalry rolled them over and pursued the
fugitives, while Abbot’s guns ploughed through them wherever they
massed together.
By ten o’clock it was all over. The panic was so great that they
deserted the forts, and we secured all the grain and fodder.
Two great results followed this fortunate victory: it gave the garrison
a little breathing-time, and we had a few days of uninterrupted quiet
to repair our walls and destroy cover.
The people of the valley now adopted the usual Oriental policy of
trying to keep well with both parties, and sent in donkey-loads of
flour, wheat, etc.
Working parties were told off to clear away the rubbish, to destroy
houses outside, and to build parapets on the walls; for with the
enemy’s marksmen so near, no one could look over the walls or show a
cap without getting a shot through it.
“Jellalabad” means “the abode of splendour,” but our men found it
squalid and mean. There were two main streets, crossing each other at
right angles; the rest were narrow, filthy lanes. The mountain tribes
have fair complexions and the Grecian type of face. They are believed
to be the descendants of the Greeks left by Alexander the Great. All
their implements and household utensils are totally different from
those used by the Afghans.
As soon as the enemy was driven off by our sortie the troops set to
work on the defences. No one was allowed to be idle. Officers and men,
with spade, pickaxe, bill-hook, or mining tools in hand--all were at
work from daybreak to sunset.
Parties of the enemy hovered about, but never dared to molest us.
Strong detachments of cavalry were sent out every day to protect our
grass-cutters.
On the 21st of November the garrison received bad news. The little fort
of Pesh Bolak (half-way between Jellalabad and the Khyber) had had to
be evacuated, and Captain Ferris had been seen going over the mountains
away to Peshawar in hasty retreat.
Then from Cabul they heard that our troops there were shut up by the
insurgents in their fortified cantonment, that there was a general
rising of the whole country, and the roads were closed against
messengers.
Every night now parties of the enemy used to creep round and fire at
our sentries. At twelve o’clock on the night of the 28th there was
a tremendous report, like the firing of a heavy gun. The alarm was
sounded, and in two minutes every man was at his post. Seaton was
Captain of the day, so he hurried off to learn what all the row was
about. He found Sale and his staff in the west gate, looking earnestly
in the direction of the enemy, and discussing with the heroic Havelock
the probabilities of an attack. It was a bright moonlight night;
everything visible near or far. All at once some one called out:
“Here they come, sir! Don’t you see those two dark columns of men 500
yards off?”
Ah! yes. Every one saw them clearly enough.
“I looked a little, and then laughed right out. The General called to
me in his short, sharp way:
“‘Seaton, what is it, sir?’
“‘General, where is the back wall of the old fort?’
“‘Eh! eh! what! what!’ said he testily.
“‘Why, General, you sent me out yesterday to destroy the back wall of
that old fort behind which the enemy used to muster. The clay was too
hard for us, so, as the wall was just over a sunk road, and the bank
below the wall soft, I threw a dam across the lower part of the road
and turned in yon little stream. I guess it has softened the bank,
and the wall has fallen with a slap into the water and produced the
explosion. The columns of men are only the shadows of the north and
south walls.’ So we all had a hearty laugh.”
Seaton was on guard every third day. Though the duty was hard, it was
comparatively a day of rest. During the night officers visited the
guards and sentries every two hours, and made the sentries report
everything they had seen or heard. They patrolled the streets, too,
every two hours, and the picket in the centre of the town sent patrols
to each gate every hour during the night. Every day, when not on
special duty, he went out with a large working party to destroy the old
walls and houses outside the town, to fell and cut up the trees, and to
bring them in for firewood.
The enemy had some capital marksmen, and several of our men were shot
through the loopholes. Sale now thought it time to put a stop to
this, for they cut off our supplies and we had only thirty days’ food
in store. So he quietly waited until noon, when the enemy would be
thinking more of food than fighting, and a column of 1,100 infantry was
formed in the west street. All the cavalry that could be mustered, with
two of Abbott’s guns, assembled in the south street. They had a tough
job at first. The Afghans stood bravely and poured in a heavy fire; but
the moment the cavalry and guns appeared on the plain clear of Piper’s
Hill the whole body of the enemy fled in every direction. Many were
drowned in the river.
During the pursuit Captain Oldfield, who commanded the cavalry, as he
galloped up to a party of the fugitives, saw one man suddenly stop,
throw off his turban, tear off his clothes, wrap his waist-cloth round
his loins and attempt to personate a Hindoo, calling out, “Shah bash,
Angrèz!” (“Well done, English!”). But our troopers were not to be
deceived: the Hindoo gentleman was instantly cut down.
Doubtless if the Afghans had possessed the needful tools they might
have succeeded in their plan of cooping us in and starving us out.
It was to Major Broadfoot’s firmness and foresight that the brigade
was mainly indebted for its honour and safety. When they were first
sent out, Broadfoot was ordered to proceed without his tools.
This he respectfully but firmly declined to do, and by his manly
representations he carried his point, and was allowed to take them.
They returned at dusk, very hungry and tired. Our loss had been small,
our gain great, and a further result was that provisions at once began
to flow in. People flocked to the gates to sell flour, grain, and
vegetables. But the officers were all so poor that very few of them
could purchase anything. The soldiers and camp-followers were still
worse off. The commissariat officer had now six weeks’ food in store,
but would the treasure-chest hold out? Copper coinage had nearly
disappeared.
The New Year, 1842, opened ominously, and brought more evil tidings.
A letter from Cabul, from Pottinger, told them of the murder of
the Envoy, that Ghusnee was besieged, and the whole country in
insurrection.
But our garrison was not dismayed. All scouted the idea of any great
disaster happening to our troops at Cabul, and our works were pushed on
with increased vigour. Provisions kept coming in, and the surplus was
carefully stored.
On the 9th of January a letter from General Elphinstone was brought in
by a horseman, ordering Sale to retire with his brigade to Peshawar.
It was a crushing, humiliating blow, spreading a gloom over every
heart; but when Sale’s determination was made known--to hold Jellalabad
until the Cabul force arrived--the men’s confidence in their commander
was greater than ever.
The greatest harmony existed between the European and native soldiers,
and there was but one mind in the garrison--to defy the Afghans and to
redeem as far as possible the reverses of the Cabul force. They had no
money, they were short of ammunition, and had not too much food; but
there was no thought of giving way.
On the 13th of January Seaton was on guard at the south gate when, a
little after twelve o’clock, some one came rushing along the passage
leading to the guardroom. The door was burst open, and Lieutenant
B---- threw himself into Seaton’s arms, exclaiming:
“My God, Seaton! the whole of the Cabul army has been destroyed!”
“What! man, are you mad? The whole army?”
“All but one--Dr. Brydon! We saw from the top of the gateway a man
riding on an old pony. He seemed to be wounded; he was bending over the
pommel. We sent two horsemen out to bring him in--it was Dr. Brydon. He
could not speak at first. Then he murmured: ‘The only survivor of Cabul
army!--all killed.’”
[Illustration: THE LAST OF AN ARMY
The whole of the Cabul army but one man, Dr. Brydon, was destroyed.]
After thinking this over in silence for a minute or two, they went
outside and saw Sale and his staff at the Cabul gate hoisting up the
colours, a sign to any poor fugitive who might have escaped. A hearty
cheer went up as they looked on their country’s glorious colours. Their
spirits were still high.
Instantly the cavalry rode out. About four miles from Jellalabad they
found the bodies of three of Brydon’s companions--Lieutenant Harper,
Collyer, and Hopkins--all terribly mangled.
At night lights were hung out over the Cabul gate, and two buglers
were put on duty in the south-west bastion to sound the advance every
quarter of an hour, in hope that some poor fugitive might hear it and
be saved.
“The terrible wailing sound of those bugles I shall never forget,” says
Seaton. “It was a dirge for our slaughtered soldiers, and had a most
mournful and depressing effect.” Dr. Brydon’s tale struck horror into
the hearts of all who heard it, but mingled with the sorrow and pity
came a fierce desire for vengeance. Little was said, but the stern
looks of the soldiers, the set teeth, and the clenched hands, showed
how deep was the feeling that had been stirred, and how stern the vow
registered in each man’s heart.
On the 19th a servant of Captain Bazette came in, and on the 30th a
Goorkah. On the 31st they had the pleasure of welcoming another white
face--a sergeant-major. From the accounts of the sergeant they gathered
many particulars of this tragedy--how, after the murder of our Envoy,
General Elphinstone agreed to evacuate the country and retire with the
whole of his force, Akbar, on his part, undertaking to escort the Cabul
force and guarantee it from attack; how the Afghans rushed into our
cantonments, even before the rear of the British force had got outside
the walls, and began their plundering; how our men were shot down in
the Khoord Cabul Pass; how Akbar pretended he could not control his
men, and advised the English officers to surrender to him; how the
native soldiers, chilled to death in the snow, went over to the enemy
in hundreds.
The sergeant said in their excuse: “I can’t blame the natives. I myself
was born in a cold climate. I was well clad, yet my sufferings from the
cold were terrible: my fingers were frost-bitten, and all my joints
were sore. Why, sir, in the next pass the Afghans, after slaughtering
our men till they were tired, stripped hundreds of poor Hindoos stark
naked and left them there to die in the cold.”
Stories such as these only spurred on the garrison of Jellalabad to
greater exertion, for, as they would have now to face Akbar Khan and
all his warriors, on them devolved the task of redeeming our country’s
fame.
On the 30th of January our cavalry brought in 175 head of cattle
that had been grazing at some distance off, and on the next day they
shepherded in 734 sheep.
Now, work on Sunday was remitted. Men came to morning service with
sword and pistol, or musket and bayonet, and sixty rounds in pouch,
ready at a moment’s notice to march to battle.
“To me,” says Seaton, “it was always an affecting sight to see these
great rough fellows with their heads bowed, humbly confessing their
sins before God, and acknowledging their dependence on His goodness
and mercy; and I am sure that afterwards, when we were surrounded by
greater perils, there were many who felt the comfort there was in
having One to whom they could appeal in all their troubles.”
In February they knew that Akbar was collecting his forces for
an attack. On our side the General ordered that all able-bodied
camp-followers who were willing should be armed and receive the pay of
native soldiers.
Those for whom there were no muskets were armed with pikes, which were
made for them.
On the 16th rain came down in torrents; on the 18th heavy rain again.
On the morning of the 19th Seaton was at work outside when he felt a
smart shock of earthquake, with a rumbling noise. At first he did not
take much notice, but when the rumbling increased and swelled to the
loudest thunder, as if a thousand heavy waggons were being driven at
speed over a rough pavement, he turned quite sick. An awful fear came
over him. The ground heaved and set like the sea, and the whole plain
seemed to be rolling in waves towards them. The motion was so violent
that some were nearly thrown down, and expected every moment to see the
whole town swallowed up.
The houses, the walls, and the bastions were rocking and reeling in a
most terrific manner, and falling into complete ruin, while all along
the south and west faces the parapets, which had cost us so much labour
to erect, were crumbling away like sand. The whole was enveloped in
one immense cloud of dust, out of which came cries of terror from the
hundreds within.
When the dreadful noise and quaking ceased, a dead silence succeeded,
all being so deeply impressed by the terror of the scene that they
dared not utter a sound. The men were absolutely green with fear.
Presently a gentle breeze sprang up. Officers encouraged the men to go
on with their work, but, looking round the valley, they saw every fort
and village wrapped in dense clouds of dust. From some the dust was
streaming away like smoke, from others it rose high in the air in dense
columns.
When the breeze had cleared away the dust from Jellalabad an awful
scene of destruction appeared. The upper stories of the houses were all
gone, and beams, posts, doors, windows, bits of wall, ends of roof,
earth and dust, all were mingled in one confused heap. It was as if
some gigantic hand had taken up the houses and thrown them down in one
rubbish-heap.
The parapets all round had fallen from the walls. The walls were split
in many places. In the eastern wall a breach had been made large enough
for two companies abreast to walk through.
Sale’s bugle sounded the assembly, and they went in at once. On muster
being taken, it was found that the loss of life was happily only three
men crushed in the cavalry hospital.
On looking round, it was found that a month’s cannonading with a
hundred pieces of heavy artillery could not have produced the damage
that the earthquake had effected in a few seconds. “The hand of the
Almighty had indeed humbled our pride, and taught us the wholesome
lesson that He alone is a sure defence.”
The Colonel narrowly escaped with his life. He had been standing on the
wall, which, he said after he was taken up from the ruins, wriggled
like a snake.
In one place, as an officer was passing along the ramparts, the ground
opened beneath him, and he fell in, but only to be thrown out again--an
operation which was twice repeated. At a spot near the river the wall
had opened so wide that a man could have slipped through. All the
barracks and sheds were in ruins; all shelter for the men was destroyed.
This, however, was not the time for idle wonder or for despair.
Without delay every man in garrison was set to work, and though there
were frequent shocks of earthquake during the day, the ruins had been
cleared away by dusk, and a temporary parapet of clods of earth and
clay made all round the walls.
Towards sunset a small body of horsemen from Akbar’s camp came to
reconnoitre. Abbott, who was looking out, sent a shot right into the
party, making them scamper off, probably to report to their chiefs
that the fortifications were uninjured, and that our “magic” had caused
the earthquake.
But we were in a critical state, with all defences levelled, a huge
breach in the works, and the destroyer of our Cabul force within a few
miles of us, with the whole power of the country at his back.
They had now daily fights for their forage. The grass-cutters went out
at early dawn under a strong escort. The grass in India is a creeping
grass: the shoots run along under ground, or it would perish in the
droughts of summer.
The grass-cutter, armed with a small hoe, sits down on his heels, and
with a sweeping motion cuts the grass half an inch below the surface
of the ground. He then collects it, beats off the earth, and brings
it home on his head. This grass is very sweet and nutritious. As the
hot weather advanced they had to go further afield for grass. On the
2nd of March Akbar sent a large force round to the east, and they were
invested.
“I find this in my journal for the 2nd of March: ‘All our comforts are
vanishing. Tea has long been gone; coffee goes to-day; sugar on its
last legs; butter gone; no grass for the cows; candles not to be had.
Akbar is trying to starve us out.’”
Lead for the rifles was in great request. Some officers of the 13th
hit upon a very comical method of procuring it. They dressed up a
figure--cocked hat, red coat, painted face--and put it on a short pole.
Hoisted up above the ramparts and managed adroitly, it created no end
of fun.
Eagerly the Afghans fired at it. Thousands of bullets went over their
heads or battered against the wall below. Whenever they thought the
General was hit or saw him bob down, they yelled and shouted like
madmen.
How many Generals must they not have killed! Generals running short!
The figure was hit sometimes. In the evening or early morning they used
to go outside and pick up the bullets, of which immense numbers were
found. In the course of half an hour one morning Seaton picked up 121,
but several officers picked up more.
From the 2nd of March, the day on which the enemy established a camp
east of the city, they all slept at their posts on the walls. No one
took off his clothes. None of them wore uniform, but clothes made of
camel-hair cloth. Too much digging for fine uniforms! On the 10th of
March, as the Afghans had been thronging the ravines for many days,
Sale thought it wise to see to it, so a sortie with 800 men was
ordered. They thoroughly examined the ravines at night and destroyed
the enemy’s shelters. As they were retiring into the town the enemy
came on, pursuing with loud yells and screams. Their horse came boldly
down towards the town, offering a splendid mark for Abbott, whose guns
plied them with shot and shell with deadly effect.
Not a single horseman could stand before Abbott’s gun within 1,200
yards, his aim was so unerring. Ever since the siege of Bhurtpoor he
had been celebrated for his skill as an artilleryman, and they had
daily proof of his prowess.
So the month progressed, fighting or working by day, watching on the
walls by night, and all the time on half rations.
They knew that Government was assembling a force at Peshawar under
Pollock in order to relieve them, for they got a stray letter now and
then.
Hard work, poor food, anxiety, were making all thin and pale; and some
of them were angry with Sale that he would not go out and fight, for
they felt perfectly capable of squaring accounts with Akbar and his
legions; but “Fighting Bob,” as he was called, would not come up to his
name.
Night after night they were roused from their short sleep by
earthquakes. A sharper shock, a violent heave, a short cracking sound,
and all would start up, listen, grumble, try to get to sleep again.
Some messengers came in from Peshawar on the 25th. They heard the men
of the 13th in fits of laughter at some absurd game they were playing,
and all the native soldiers singing in chorus their festival songs.
They were astounded.
“Why,” they said, “you are besieged, and ought to be sad and
dispirited; but you are all as merry as possible.”
When they saw the ease with which a party of Akbar’s men were beaten in
a fight for some grass they were utterly confounded. When they returned
to Peshawar all this went down the road to the Khyber, with wonderful
additions. It was just the sort of tale that in the mouths of such men
would not lose in the telling.
All this time the greatest cordiality and good feeling prevailed
between the European and native soldiers.
“I remember one case of disagreement,” says Seaton. “A sepoy of my
company met a soldier of the 13th on a narrow path in the town. The
soldier overbalanced himself, and stepped into the mud.
“Being very hot-tempered, he struck the sepoy a violent blow. The
latter came to me to make his complaint. The matter was referred to
Sale, who was furious, blew up the English soldier fearfully, and
ordered him to confinement.
“As the Adjutant was marching the soldier off the sepoy took the
soldier by the hand and said: ‘General Sahib, forgive him. There has
not been one quarrel between any of us ever since the regiments have
been together. You have scolded with him, so I ask you please forgive
him.’
“The General granted the sepoy’s request. The soldier said he was
sorry he had given way to temper and struck a man who could behave so
generously.
“Many of our soldiers had friends among the sepoys, and I have known
more than once a soldier, when dying, send for his sepoy friend to be
with him in his last moments.”
Akbar had a new idea: he caused large flocks of sheep to be driven over
the distant forage grounds. On the 30th they saw these flocks going
within range of the guns. They looked at them with hungry eyes.
On the morning of the 1st of April a flock of sheep was driven by the
enemy’s shepherds close to the old ruined fort. Several officers got
round Sale and fairly badgered him into making an attempt to carry them
off. Four hundred men, all the cavalry, and some pikemen, were ordered
out. As they sallied forth Seaton heard a man on the walls say to a
friend, “I say, Bill, what a lark if we can get in all them sheep!”
The cavalry rode out and got round them. The sheep were given to the
pikemen. The infantry extended in skirmishing order to check the enemy,
who were running up. The sheep were got in, the last one dropping a
lamb on the very threshold.
They had one man killed and eight wounded, but were all in the highest
spirits, and when the Afghans, dancing with rage, showed themselves on
the hills, they were saluted with shouts of laughter and a thousand
cries of “B-a-a! b-a-a!”
The garrison got 481 sheep and a few goats. The General gave forty
sheep to the men of Seaton’s regiment (natives); but they, with great
good-feeling, desired that the sheep should be given to the English
soldiers, for whom, they said, such food was necessary, while they
could do very well on their rations. Bravo, 35th Native Infantry! A
grateful letter came in return from the non-commissioned officers and
privates of the 13th L.I. to Colonel Dennie, ending with, “Believe me,
sir, that feeling is more gratifying to us than the value of the gift,
and we shall ever feel the obligation our old comrades and brother
campaigners have placed us under.”
On the 3rd a spy came in and told them that when Akbar learnt that they
had captured his sheep, he burst into such a transport of fury that his
people were afraid to go near him.
On the 6th of April they heard that Pollock had been repulsed in the
Khyber Pass, and at noon Akbar fired a royal salute in honour of his
victory.
All the officers now went to Sale and urged on him the absolute
necessity of going out and fighting Akbar.
Sale saw that the time for action had arrived.
On the morning of the 7th strong guards were posted at the gates, a
picket in the centre of the town, and all pikemen, sick and wounded
soldiers, etc., were sent to man the walls, and a very respectable show
they made.
With the first peep of dawn the gates were quietly opened, and the
three columns, under Dennie, Monteath, and Havelock, sallied out.
The plan was to march direct on Akbar’s camp, burn it, drive him into
the river, and bring off his guns.
They wasted some time in attacking a ruinous fort, and Colonel Dennie
was mortally wounded. Then Sale called off the troops, and they went
straight for Akbar.
The sound of the guns had roused all the enemy’s force, and they were
turning out in thousands. It was a grand sight to see their large
masses of horse coming down from the hills. They charged boldly on
Havelock’s column, which, rapidly thrown into square, received them
with the greatest coolness, and repulsed them with heavy loss.
They then made an attack on Seaton’s regiment, but at this moment two
guns of Abbott’s battery came up and sent shot and shell crashing into
the enemy’s ranks, making them recoil faster than they had advanced.
The English soon came within sight of the Afghan camp, from whence the
enemy opened fire on them, which caused some loss. But they made a rush
and carried the camp without a check, while the enemy fled through the
groves of trees beyond. They tried to carry off one of the guns, but a
shot by Abbott killed the two horses attached to the limber, and the
artillerymen fled. Numbers of the fugitives threw themselves into the
river, which, swollen and rapid, destroyed the greatest part of them.
The whole of Akbar’s camp fell into our hands. His guns, ammunition,
standards, plunder--everything he had with him. The bugle soon recalled
the skirmishers, and Seaton was detached with a party to fire the
tents and the huts, made of boughs and reeds. The smoke of the burning
proclaimed our victory to the whole valley. Numbers of camels and
mounds of grain fell into our hands.
“I secured three noble camels for myself, and right good service they
did me afterwards.”
Sale was anxious to get back to Jellalabad, so the men returned in
triumph, each man carrying off what he pleased, and were received with
loud cheers from the walls. A little after dark the news was brought in
by some Hindoos living in the valley that every fort and village within
eight miles had been deserted.
This night they slept in bed, perfectly undisturbed. After passing
the last thirty-six nights on the ramparts, armed and accoutred,
constantly roused by the enemy, by their own rounds, by the relief of
sentries, by those terrible earthquakes, many nights drenched by rain
without shelter, quiet rest in a real bed for the whole night was an
unspeakable luxury; “but coupled with the thought that, unaided, we
had broken the toils cast round us by Akbar Khan; that we had beaten
in fair fight the chief who had destroyed our Cabul army; that months
of toil, watching, anxiety, and peril had been crowned with glorious
success; that our country’s honour was safe in our hands, it was
positive bliss, such as few have had the happiness to taste.”
On this night even the earthquakes spared them--no sudden roar, no
sharp electric shock, no far-off rumbling sound, no sharp crack of doom
to startle them from their well-earned repose. It was bliss!
It was observed that earthquakes usually followed much rain, thus
raising the question whether steam may not often be the origin of the
phenomenon.
Next day they found 580 rounds of ammunition for the captured guns. Now
food began to pour in from the country, and they lived on the fat of
the land.
News came in that Pollock had forced the Khyber, and would arrive about
the 15th.
At length, on the morning of the 14th, they could see with their
glasses Pollock’s force coming near. They had not arrived in time to
help the garrison in their imminent peril. They had lost the grand
opportunity of joining with them to crush the man whose treachery had
destroyed their brothers-in-arms, whose bones lay scattered in the icy
passes of Cabul. A fifth part of Pollock’s cavalry would have enabled
them to annihilate Akbar and all his troops.
So when next morning Pollock’s force did arrive, there was a hearty
welcome, but a sly bit of sarcasm in the tune to which the band of the
13th played them in, “Ye’re ower lang o’ comin’.”
It was not Pollock’s fault, however. He had to wait for the troops to
join him at Peshawar.
“Let me relate one incident,” writes Colonel Seaton, “that will tend to
illustrate the character of my old commander, General Sir R. Sale.
“Shortly after Akbar’s camp appeared in sight it was whispered about in
garrison that Akbar intended to bring Lady Sale, then a prisoner in his
hands, before the walls, and put her to torture within sight, and so
compel Sale to surrender.
“Every day when the men were at dinner Sale used to take a turn on
the ramparts, ostensibly to have a quiet look round at the progress
of our works, but in reality, I believe, to ponder on the desperate
situation of his wife and daughter, and debate with himself the means
of effecting their rescue.
“We knew that they were well, had hitherto been kindly treated, and
were in Akbar’s fort, not many miles off.
“One day Sale, in going his rounds, came and stood over the south
gate, where I was on duty; so, as I had enjoyed the privilege of great
intimacy with him and Lady Sale at Cabul, I went out and joined him. I
ventured to mention this report, and asked him what he would do if it
should prove true, and if Akbar should put his threat into execution.
“Turning towards me, his face pale and stern, but quivering with deep
emotion, he replied:
“‘I--I will have every gun turned on her. My old bones shall be buried
beneath the ruins of the fort here, but I will never surrender!’”
Could Lady Sale have heard it, her heart would have bounded with pride,
for the heroine was worthy of her hero.
The reception of the garrison by Lord Ellenborough at Ferozepoor
was a noble and ample return for all their toil and suffering. His
lordship had taken care that each officer and man of the “illustrious
garrison,” as he termed them, should have a medal, and they were sent
out to them before they reached Ferozepoor.
Not an English officer in India at this time had such a mark of
distinction. They were the first to be so honoured, and were highly
gratified by it.
On the morning on which they marched in, the bridge of boats over the
Sutlej was gaily ornamented with flags and streamers. His lordship met
them at the bridge head, and was the first to welcome them as they
stepped on the soil of our own provinces. All the troops in camp were
drawn up in line at open order, and received them as they passed with
presented arms. Lord Ellenborough also ordered that at each station
they marched through on their way to their destination the same
military honours should be rendered to them. The garrison were received
with similar marks of distinction at Kurnaul, at Delhi, and at Agra.
“We may forget everything else, but we shall never forget Lord
Ellenborough’s noble and ever-ready kindness and the many honours he
caused to be shown us. One word more: After the Mutiny, it is not to be
wondered at that the sepoy was written down as a demon and a coward;
but we had known him as an excellent soldier, generally mild and humane
and temperate as a man, sometimes even generous and forgiving, as the
best of Christians.”
When will it become the English custom to recite before our young of
both sexes some of the deeds which have saved the Empire, “lest we
forget”? If not in church, at least in school, we should make this
effort to save our children from ignorance, which is ingratitude.
From Major-General Sir Thomas Seaton’s record, “From Cadet to
Colonel.” By kind permission of Messrs. G. Routledge and Sons.