THE WELCOME TO KABUL.
Pathan rifle thieves. Dacca. The midnight alarm: the mêlée: the
accident: rescued. “Bally rascals:” attempted explanation. The
next morning. What it was all about. The terror of the Amîr’s
name. Running postmen. Kabul post. Arrival. Armenian’s opinion of
London. Changes in the English “staff.” Visitors: letters. Lady
doctor’s application. Salaam to the Amîr. His Highness’s welcome:
his conversation. The military Durbar. Presents. The new British
Agent. Visit to the Sultana. Salaam to Prince Habibullah. His
conversation. Another visit to the Amîr: his appreciation of scenic
effect. His answer to the lady doctor’s application.
At Peshawur I found a very kind letter from His Highness waiting for
me, with an order for as many horses as I needed. The guard were to
meet me at Lundi Kotal Serai.
I will not trace the journey in detail, though one incident that
occurred may be worth relating, showing as it does what miracles may
be worked by the magic of the Amîr’s name. I had some English firearms
with me--a couple of rifles and a shot gun--packed in cases, which I
wished to present to the Amîr, and when we reached Dacca the Armenian
was considerably disturbed in his mind concerning the safety of these
weapons. The neighbouring Pathans, he said, were exceedingly clever
thieves, and they had a curious passion for English rifles.
In the evening he told me several interesting stories, laughable in
their cleverness, of the way in which these Pathans managed to obtain
from Peshawur weapons of English manufacture.
[Sidenote: The Midnight Alarm.]
The tents had been put up facing the river on the edge of the high
bank, in order to catch as much breeze as possible. The Armenian’s tent
was just at a corner where a nullah or dry water-course cut the bank;
mine was next. The nullah was perhaps twelve feet deep, and the bank of
the river some twenty feet above the surface of the water.
I turned in about ten o’clock and slept soundly till about midnight,
when I was awakened suddenly by the sound of a scuffle. Instantly it
occurred to me, “the Shenwarris are after my guns.”
I threw a cloak round me and stepped out of the tent. It was very dark,
but there appeared to be a free fight going on. I could dimly make
out a body of men struggling, could hear the thuds of blows and the
Armenian’s voluminous voice roaring in manifest rage. There were no
reports of firearms, but it occurred to me as an advisable precaution
to be possessed of a revolver before entering the _mêlée_. Mine, a
heavy one, had been carried by the Armenian the day before, and since
he was not using it I concluded it must be in his tent. Hastily,
therefore, so as not to be out of the fun, I made for his tent.
Remembering the high bank and the rapid river below, I groped round the
back of the tent, stumbling over the ropes, until--down I went. I had
forgotten all about the nullah. Instinctively throwing out a hand, I
caught a tent-peg. It cracked dangerously at the sudden jerk, and for
a moment I was hanging over the edge at arm’s length on this rickety
concern; then I found my feet resting on a ledge. I was very annoyed
at being so entirely shelved, and was considering how I could get out
of the position with dignity and honour, when I heard the sound of some
one running and the Armenian’s voice calling,
“Sir! Sir! Where are you?”
I answered, as it were, from the bowels of the earth, and when he had
localized my whereabouts he hauled me up. I had to leave my dignity
behind. He said--
“Sir, please, you go back, you not trouble; _I_ manage these bally
rascal: these dogs’ sons. A little I afraid you get hurt.”
Of course, I was not going back to my tent until I knew what the row
was all about.
A light was brought. The Colonel commanding the station, and a crowd
of people, all more or less excited, were to be seen. They pulled
out a charpoy from one of the tents for me to sit on, and tea was
brought--why, I don’t know. When we had drank tea everyone began to
explain at once. The Colonel in Persian; the soldiers in Pushtu; and
the Armenian in involved English. The Colonel and the soldiers spoke
very fast and loudly, constantly interrupting one another, and I caught
only a word here and there. What the Armenian wished to express I could
not imagine. A man was then brought forward with his arms bound behind
his back.
The Colonel and the Armenian seemed much disturbed that I had fallen
down the nullah, but what the explanation of the bound man was I could
not make out: only this, that he was _not_ a thief after my rifles. I
went to bed again.
[Sidenote: The Next Morning.]
In the morning, after breakfast, when every one had cooled down, I
heard the explanation. The Colonel, it seems, had stationed the guard.
All went quietly for a time until the Armenian, before he turned in,
made a round of the sentries. He found one point improperly guarded,
and ordered one of the soldiers to move his position. The man refused
with a Pushtu oath: and high words followed. In this the soldier was
no match for the Armenian, and being exasperated at receiving harder
words than he could return, he endeavoured to stab his bayonet into the
latter.
Such a line of action not meeting the Armenian’s views as to the
eternal fitness of things, he closed with the soldier. His “education”
in England had not been without effect, and scorning to use a knife,
like a native, he proceeded to punch the soldier’s head. The magnetic
effect of a “fight” caused other people to run up, and the thuds and
scuffle of the _mêlée_ aroused me.
After the explanation, the unfortunate man, with his hands bound, was
brought forward, and the Colonel begged me to pronounce sentence upon
him. He said he would carry out any punishment I chose to impose;
whether of fine, imprisonment, or death. He offered me his revolver,
that I might have the supreme delight of killing the man myself; or,
if that did not meet my views, he would himself shoot him at once.
All this excessive politeness arose from the fact that I expressed
to the Colonel my sense of dissatisfaction that a distinguished
foreigner could not travel through his district without being exposed
to annoyances of this kind. I asked whether he thought Amîr Sahib
would be satisfied with his administrative power. At the mention of
His Highness’s name, the Colonel became greatly disturbed in his mind,
and desired me to look upon himself as my dog. I said that I was not
in need of a dog just then, and that these words did not please me. As
for judging the man, I was not a magistrate in the country, how could I
take upon myself to judge him. With a damp forehead and a dry tongue he
begged me, as a friend to the poor, not to report the matter.
I began gradually to be appeased, to soften the severe aspect of the
countenance, and unbend the knitted brow, for, as I have frequently
remarked, I am a mild man. The Colonel perceiving his advantage ordered
tea to be brought instantly, and waited upon me with both hands.
“Slowly by slowly” the threatened storm blew off, and the Colonel,
with joy in his heart, accompanied us miles on the journey, telling
many yarns and amusing stories, whereat we laughed. We are now great
friends--he and I: for had I not stood by him in an hour of trouble,
when his heart melted within him, and his interiors were as water!
Riding along we met one of the “running postmen”: a tall, gaunt hillman
without an ounce of superfluous fat on him. These men run for a certain
number of miles with the sealed leather post satchel, and then pass it
on to the next. There are rough sheds by the wayside where each remains
till his turn comes. They carry a long bamboo lance tipped and shod
with steel, and with a small bell fixed just below the blade. The post
for India leaves Kabul on Wednesdays and Saturdays, and that from India
arrives on Sundays and Thursdays.
At the stage before Kabul I had received a letter from His Highness
directing me to take possession of the house I formerly occupied in
the town: to rest for a day; and on the following day to come on to
Endekki, when he would receive me.
[Sidenote: The Arrival.]
We arrived at Kabul on a Sunday morning, in March, 1892. It was a
proud day for the Armenian as he rode through the bazaar with his
solar helmet on one side--no miserable native turban for him now.
His hand was on his hip and his elbow pointed outwards: his uplifted
head desired to strike the stars. With a lofty pity, not unmingled
with contempt, he gazed around at the admiring faces of the salaaming
Kabulis. Was he not a traveller of renown: one who had crossed the
great river and penetrated to the very heart of the Feringhi country!
Mr. Walter, the tailor, rode out to meet us; he said to the Armenian:
“Well, did you like London?”
“Sir, what _d’you_ think! But London is very good place for rich man,
very bad place for poor man. Kabul is good for poor man.”
“What did you do in London?” asked Mr. Walter.
“O, Sir! A little I walk this way and that, and upon ladies I pinch
eyes.”
By this I fancy he must have meant he winked. It was a revelation to
me, and I looked at him severely. What other remarkable development
might I not detect!
I heard from Mr. Walter that the two engineers, Messrs. Stewart and
Myddleton, had departed, and their places were taken by two Scotchmen.
Mr. Pyne had gone to England on leave and had not yet returned. He was
to bring out several other Englishmen.
The Armenian had the house swept out, the carpets down, and everything
straight in a very short time. Several people called in the afternoon.
Some of the Armenian’s relatives: the Compounder; and some Afghans whom
I knew. I found half-a-dozen letters waiting for me, one from my wife,
whereat I rejoiced, and one from a lady missionary in India who wished
to enter the Amîr’s service as medical attendant upon the Harem.
I had met another lady in Peshawur who also wished to enter the Amîr’s
service. She was attached to the Afghan Mission in that town, and spoke
Persian, Pushtu, and Hindustani, and had had some medical training.
She told me she was intending to travel to Kabul, in disguise, with
the Koffla, the travelling merchants. She was young, and I endeavoured
to point out some of the dangers she would be exposed to from Afghan
ruffians, and did my best to dissuade her from such a rash undertaking.
It seemed to me the conception was an utterly mad one, but that if she
desired greatly to enter the service the best thing would be to write
and apply to His Highness. However, she did not write that I know of.
The other lady missionary who wrote was much older, and in due time I
had her letter translated and laid before His Highness. How the Amîr
received the application I will relate presently.
The day after our arrival I rode to the Endekki Palace to salaam the
Amîr. In the great hall I met many of the Court whom I knew, and
chatted with them. As soon as His Highness rose I was called to the
inner room.
[Sidenote: The Amîr’s Welcome.]
I found His Highness seated on a couch of crimson and gold. He was
dressed in a black morning suit, with an ordinary English shirt and
collar: he looked very European, and his hands, on which were some
beautiful rings, struck me as being singularly white. He had picked up
wonderfully since June, when I saw him last, was nothing like so thin,
and looked exceedingly well. The room had the appearance of a lady’s
boudoir, with flowers, vases, embroideries, piano, and so on.
I bowed as I entered the room, and His Highness smiled and beckoned me
forwards. He held my hand some minutes while he made kindly enquiries
as to my health; and he asked was my wife well and the other members of
my family.
He said he was exceedingly pleased to see me again, and he thanked God
that I had returned safely. He then allowed me to be seated.
He enquired the date of my wedding, and on hearing that my married life
had lasted only for three months and a-half, he said: “How sorrowful
your wife must be, how sorrowful she must be.” Presently he said--
“I will grant you leave of absence again soon; you shall go to your
home when the winter comes.”
He promised, with great kindness, that every preparation should be
made for the reception of Mrs. Gray in Kabul, and desired her to be
accompanied by two English maidservants, whose salaries he would charge
himself with. When she felt a longing to return to England she should
go: if, however, she did not care to accompany me back to Kabul, he
would from time to time give me leave of absence at short intervals. As
regards transmitting pay, he said he would order any proportion of my
salary that I wished, to be paid either in London or to my bankers in
Bombay.
He told me that both coal and iron had been found in the country, and
he said that it was his intention soon to visit England himself. He
referred to the death of Prince Albert Victor, and spoke highly of him,
and I remember he told me an anecdote in the life of the Prince. He
spoke some little time on other matters, and then tea and cigarettes
were brought. There had been no one in the room with His Highness
during the interview, except myself, the Armenian, and one of the
Page boys. After being with His Highness four or five hours, I asked
permission to withdraw, and then visited Malek, the Page, who was ill.
He seemed very pleased to see me.
The next day, Tuesday, was a military Durbar, and I visited His
Highness again, taking with me the rifles I had brought, as I wished to
present them to him. His Highness received me kindly, and accepted the
present I laid before him. I had also brought for Prince Habibullah a
plumed helmet, such as an officer in India would wear. The Prince was
at the Durbar, and His Highness, after examining the helmet, kindly
allowed me to present it to the Prince.
There were a great many of the Afghan military officers present:
they were seated along the side of the room, and among them was the
new British Agent, the Sirdar Mahomed Afzal Khan. The former agent,
Colonel Attaullah Khan, having been long a resident at the Amîr’s
Court, had withdrawn. Lunch was served, and at five o’clock I came away.
The next day the fast of Ramazàn commenced, and I got to work at the
Hospital.
A few days afterwards I rode out to the country house where Her
Highness, the Sultana, was living, and sent in my salaams with a
present of silks and so on that I had brought for her and the little
Prince Mahomed Omer. A kind message was received in reply, and after
the usual tea, cigarettes, and sweets, I rode back to Kabul.
[Sidenote: Salaam to the Prince.]
A day or two afterwards, I paid a formal visit to Prince Habibullah. He
was living in the bungalow of the Bâbur Gardens.
It was a pretty garden with fountains, flowers and trees, situated
on the slope of the mountains outside Kabul, in a sort of natural
concavity in the hills.
The Prince received me most kindly, and talked for some time, asking
me many questions about London. He desired me also to paint another
portrait of himself; which, by the way, I never had the opportunity of
doing.
One afternoon in the next week I again visited His Highness, the Amîr,
taking with me the letter of the lady missionary who desired to enter
the Amîr’s service.
While I was waiting in the great hall, smoking cigarettes, my old
friend, General Nassir Khan, came and chatted with me, saying how
pleased he was to see me back again. Another friend also came and
spoke to me, the Brigadier Hadji Gul Khan. I do not know if he was as
pleased to see me as the General, for he had been living in my house
while I was in London, and had to turn out when I came back; however,
he expressed himself as delighted.
It was late in the afternoon when I arrived at the Palace, and when
I was called in to the Amîr the dusk of the evening had fallen. As
soon as I entered the room, His Highness called my attention to a
most picturesque evening effect that could be seen from his window.
A brilliant gleam of light appeared between the clouds in the sky,
the mountains could be seen shadowy but distinct; the middle ground
was in deep shadow, and in the foreground were the Palace gardens and
fountains lit by the light from the Palace.
His Highness read the translation of the lady missionary’s letter, and
said, that at present the country was too unsettled in condition for
it to be a suitable field for the efforts of an English lady doctor.
When, however, Mrs. Gray accompanied me to Kabul, the lady might travel
with her. His Highness spoke some time, and told me that in future,
when I wished to see him, there was no need for me to write and make
an appointment: he would receive me at any time, day or night. I got
home at nine o’clock in the evening and wrote to the lady missionary,
telling her as nearly as I could His Highness’s words. Mrs. Gray never
went to Kabul, nor I believe did the lady missionary.