Camp Life at Cabul—Afghan Costermongers—Curiosity of Villagers—The
Hazaras—Surrender of Firearms—City Traders—The Purchase of Transport
Animals—Peaceful State of the Country—The Abdication of the Amir—His
Reasons for the Step—Assumption of the Government by the
British—General Roberts’s Proclamation—Arrest of the Amir—Progress
of the Inquiry into the Massacre—The Murder of Abdul Karim—Military
Executions-Seizure of Treasure.
CAMP SIAH SUNG, _25th October_.
Our lines are cast in pleasant places just at present; for, apart from
the political puzzle which some of us study, and which I have already
tried to explain, there is nothing to disturb our equanimity. We have a
high and dry encamping ground, from which we can travel down at our
leisure, either citywards, to explore the mysteries of Cabul and ponder
over the Bala Hissar, now rapidly being cleared out; or else down into
the Cabul plain, to exercise our horses on the racecourse, or over the
water-channels which everywhere intersect the fields. The view on every
side is an impressive one, for the mountains which keep watch and ward
over Cabul are very picturesque, rising abruptly from the fields below,
and seeming to shut us out securely from the petty world beyond. News of
that outer world has been very scant of late, and it is with
ill-concealed impatience that many of us turn eastward to where the
Khurd Cabul and Jugdulluck Hills hide the long valley up which the
Khyber column is crawling with tortoise-slowness. There comes no
heliographic flash down to cheer us, and one might as well consult the
impassible Hindu Kush itself. But there is a pleasanter outlook
westwards. Through the gorge in rear of the city we catch a glimpse of
the Chardeh Valley, a very Eden of fertility, and in the far background
is the high range of mountains forming the sky-line towards distant
Turkistan, over which we have gorgeous sunsets that more than atone for
the chilliness which creeps over Siah Sung Ridge as the day closes. We
have the sharp air of the early morning to brace us for routine work
that must be gone through, and such genial warmth all day as to make the
shade of our tight little tents seem almost superfluous. Whatever of
cold and discomfort there may be in store for us, we are comfortable
enough now, though perhaps the air bites shrewdly at mid-night to the
sentry at his post. His outlook is chiefly for thieves who may think
there is loot to be got in our camp; but we seem to have frightened the
people into honesty, for robberies are unknown. Our camp is thronged
with petty traders, and in convenient spots are little bazaars for our
soldiers and camp-followers, to whom they are a rare boon. Fruit in
abundance is exposed most temptingly: grapes, apples, pears, and
pomegranates being sold so cheaply that a few pice will buy sufficient
to satisfy even a soldier’s appetite; while melons of a flavour and
succulency almost unknown to us poor dwellers in Hindustan are piled
together in profusion. The usual curry-stuffs and native delicacies are
ranged alongside these edibles; and occasionally some delicious beetroot
or a gigantic cabbage nestling in a heap of bright-skinned onions tempts
a _khansamah_ doing his day’s marketing to halt and haggle in a lordly
manner until a fair bargain is struck. The Afghan “coster” is not an
easy personage to deal with, for he has learnt the value of our rupees,
and is determined to make the most of the present opportunity. In our
canvas streets there is all day long a busy stream of men and boys
eagerly selling wares from the city and surrounding villages, and if so
inclined we could spend hours in making casual purchases. In the early
morning villagers with their simple produce of fowls, ducks, pigeons,
eggs, jars of milk and clotted cream—the latter particularly good—come
sauntering in and pass away their time in intently gazing at our strange
freaks in the way of early “tubs” or substantial breakfasts. Their
livestock slung across their shoulders, or carelessly carried head
downwards, appears quite a secondary consideration, until they are
pounced upon by some _bon-vivant_, who thinks life is not worth living
if it is merely to be sustained by commissariat rations—now, alas! minus
their redeeming feature of wholesome rum. Once the villager sees a
bargain may be made, he wakes up suddenly to the fact of having
something to sell, and in the _patois_ of the country explains the
number of rupees or annas he requires. That he does not get them need
scarcely be said, as his first prices are exorbitant; but after some
pantomimic action, or by calling in the aid of some Pathan sepoy near at
hand, terms are arranged, and with the silver bits stowed away
mysteriously in his waistcloth the innocent native wends his way to
another part of the camp, there to dispose of more of his stock. When he
has got rid of his little store he does not, as a conscientious
husbandman should, go quietly home, but hangs about our tents with a
face full of inquiry and amazement. He pushes his curiosity at times
almost to impertinence, perhaps with the philanthropic idea of giving us
a few wrinkles as to the proper mode of living in this part of the
world; but at the first sharp word he “moves on” a few paces, and turns
his attention to some other feature of our local life. That he is poor
and strictly dishonest there can be no reasonable doubt; but his poverty
will pass away if we stay long at Cabul, and his dishonesty will be
covered with the cloak of simplicity as long as military law prevails.
This class of peasant who comes into our midst is not of the usual
bloodthirsty Afghan type; and he comes too, without arms, for our
proclamation against carrying weapons is now widely known, and whatever
he may be on his native heath, when his tribe is on the war-path, he
looks inoffensive enough now.
Among our other visitors are the Hazaras: the hewers of wood and drawers
of water, as they have been called, of all Afghanistan. Their Mongol
type of face, beardless and with the true slanting eyes of their race,
is noticeable at once among the Jewish-looking Afghans whom they serve
so well. Sunburnt, and with many coats of dirt upon them, they look the
real labourers of the land; and as their stalwart backs are generally
bent under heavy loads of firewood or huge sacks of forage, it can be
seen they are no drones. They are always very intent upon their work,
never loitering or wonder-struck; and in this respect they resemble the
Ghoorkas. They are good-humoured and happy enough, and any stray
salutation cast to them is always answered by a smile and a nod of their
felt-crowned heads, as if kindness were too rare not to be acknowledged.
Sometimes their burdens are very different from those just mentioned,
for they come staggering in with a score of matchlocks or Enfield rifles
on their backs which their village _maliks_ have sent in to be bought up
and destroyed by the Sirkar. This bringing in of arms has been quite a
feature of camp life, it being by no means unusual to meet a file of
these men, each laden with the guns that are to be given up. They are
thrown down, and counted by soldiers told off for the duty, and the
idlers from the city gather round to stare at our contemptuous
examination of the weapons. As most of the guns are loaded and even
doubled-loaded, it is somewhat risky to meddle with them; but curiosity
prompts us to look down muzzles and cock triggers in a most reckless
way. The Sniders are safe enough to handle, as the breech can be opened
and any cartridge withdrawn; but with the others it is different.
Tower-marked Enfields rest side by side with the old two-grooved
Brunswick rifle; while Cabul-made smooth-bores and imitation Enfields
are mixed with jhezails and the “Brown Besses” the Indian Government
gave away so lavishly in the days of their foolishness. We are
destroying these arms—locks, stock, and barrel—except in the case of
such Sniders as seem really serviceable. The Afghan Snider is by no
means a badly-made weapon, and the cartridges from the Bala Hissar
Arsenal are equally good. The latter are of a kind known as solid-drawn,
with strong bases, and if recapped can be used several times with
perfect safety. Where machinery and skilled mechanics are scarce, this
is, of course, a great consideration. We do not find many cartridges
delivered up, and it seems a pity that a small price was not fixed upon
powder and lead so as to make disarmament more complete. There are
thousands of good rifles still scattered over the country, in the hands
of the Amir’s soldiers; and, in the future, ammunition will be greatly
in request, now that the Bala Hissar has fallen into our hands. A few
swords, bayonets, and knives, have come in, but they are of no account.
We have received over 3,000 rifles and guns of the different kinds
mentioned, and more will, perhaps, be given up.
Far removed from the villagers and the Hazaras are the more pretentious
city traders, who bring poshteens, furs, native cloth, chinaware, old
coins, Bokhara silks, Persian carpets, jewellery, and precious stones
for sale. They are mostly Kizilbashes and Cabul-born Hindus, many of
whom have travelled far and have seen most of the cities of Central and
Western Asia. As traders they are as keen as Jew pedlars: as visitors
they make themselves as much at home as our intimate friends. To bargain
with them is an exercise in chicanery that would quicken the wits of a
Shylock: to listen to their soft flattery as they extol the benefits of
British rule is to believe that we are the finest race in the world. The
chicanery is glossed over and hidden by the soothing praises of our
benevolence, and the crimson-turbaned Kizilbash or caste-marked Hindu,
who has sat himself on our stool or squatted in our tent is enriched
accordingly. We buy furs that would cost us less in Peshawur, and silks
that, perhaps, have never seen a Bokhara loom, and think we have done
well in our bargaining; whereas, most likely, the worthy traders have
netted excessive profits. It is the old story of our rupees filling the
coffers of the people we have come among as conquerors, and of our pride
forbidding us to acknowledge it. And yet we enjoy the chaffering with
these rascals, and find an amusement in making them turn out their
pockets. From one will be produced a rare fox-skin, from another a
Russian tea-cup and saucer (made in England, but stamped with the Moscow
dealer’s name); from a third a little packet of diamonds or
turquoises—the latter often of a beautiful colour, but marred by flaws.
Then the rings on the man’s finger are taken off and examined, the owner
fixing a price that is almost prohibitive on each stone; or a
curiously-worked belt and pouch is unbuckled at our insistance, and
appraised in the usual way. And so on to the end of the chapter. But
Kizilbash or Hindu is more than a match for the Western Kafir; and one
is tempted to believe that the Caucasian is really “played out” as far
as astuteness in trading goes. Perhaps we may be more successful in
dealing with the genuine Afghan in the city bazaars which we are now
beginning to visit.
Besides the mercenary bartering that wiles away our leisure, there is
plenty of stir and excitement in our camp life. _Maliks_ and chiefs from
a distance are met in little knots, seeking out the political officers,
or waiting upon the commissariat officers to enter into contracts for
food supply; gaily-apparalled horsemen come to show off the graces of
their Turcoman steeds; while ragged urchins on _yaboos_, the strong
ponies peculiar to the country, ride here and there in easy confidence,
halting occasionally to exchange opinions on local affairs. Near the
head-quarters of the 1st Brigade is quite a little horse-fair, where
General Macpherson passes in review some hundreds of _yaboos_ daily, and
purchases largely for transport purposes. The noisy, chattering crowd is
densest here, and the _yaboo_ fights are numerous, each pony choosing
his nearest neighbour as a fit object of attack. Near by is the Amir’s
tent with its little cluster of attendants’ _pals_ about it, and a
sentry from a guard of Europeans stationed over them pacing smartly to
and fro. At times a few prisoners with an escort of sepoys are marched
past on their way to the tent in head-quarters, where the military
commission sits which is to try them; or on “execution days” a company
of Europeans swing past with one or two men in their midst, and take the
path down the ridge to the Bala Hissar, where the gallows is waiting
ready. On the circular bit of raised ground, at the western end of the
head-quarters’ camp and overlooking the city, is a little party of
signallers near a large brass field-piece captured at Sherpur, and now
used as a time-gun. The heliograph flashes up in response to one on the
Bala Hissar ridge, which is speaking to Kushi, and we know that news is
travelling to and from the Shutargardan. In the evening one of the bands
plays on this natural band-stand, around the flag-staff which is reared
in the centre, and with the last strains of “God Save the Queen” our day
closes, the flag is furled, and we pass into the warmth and comfort of
our snug little tents. Beneath all this surface of visible camp-life is
the steady current of routine work, which goes on unceasingly and
smoothly, no outside influences acting as disturbing agents. Our men are
healthy and contented; their wounded comrades are doing well; supplies
are coming in abundantly; and, looking down upon Sherpur, we see that
warm winter quarters are being got ready; so all, apart from political
questions, is rose-coloured.
CAMP SIAH SUNG, _28th October_.
This morning only did it become publicly known that Yakub Khan had
abdicated the Amirship, the newspapers brought in by the mail from India
giving all beyond General Roberts and his immediate advisers their first
news of the occurrence. It was, of course, on account of possible
mischief ensuing if the abdication were made known and the Government
afterwards refused to accept it, that secrecy was observed regarding the
Amir’s act; and, singularly enough, while people in India and England
have been speculating as to the probable consequences of the step, we on
the spot have been in happy ignorance of the under-current of events.
The incidents of the abdication were as follows:—October 12th was the
day appointed for the Proclamation in the Bala Hissar, at which the Amir
had been ordered to attend. At six o’clock in the morning of that day he
left his camp below the Siah Sung Ridge, and went with only two servants
to Major Hastings, Chief Political Officer, and asked for an immediate
interview with General Roberts. In a few minutes he was ushered into the
General’s tent, and at his request a private interview was granted.
Yakub Khan was greatly excited, and he abruptly announced his intention
of resigning the Amirship. His life, he said, had become so miserable
that he could no longer endure it. Sir F. Roberts at once asked him to
consider what he was saying, as abdication was a very serious step. The
Amir persisted in saying that his mind was made up; he had intended to
resign at Kushi, but was persuaded by his Ministers not to do so. Now he
would sooner be a grass-cutter in the British camp than remain Amir of
Cabul. He earnestly wished that his resignation should be accepted; and,
for himself, he was ready to go to India, London, Malta, or wherever the
Viceroy should choose to send him. General Roberts again requested him
to reconsider the matter, and placed a tent at his disposal near
head-quarters. At ten o’clock, the hour fixed for falling in for the
procession to the Bala Hissar, the Amir again visited the General, and
announced that his decision was fixed: he wished to resign at once. Sir
F. Roberts replied that he himself could not accept the resignation
without having consulted the Viceroy, and he asked the Amir to let
matters remain _in statu quo_ until an answer could be received from
Simla, the British authorities in the meantime carrying on the
Government in the Amir’s name. Yakub Khan agreed to this without further
parley, but asked permission to absent himself from the Bala Hissar that
morning, as the excitement and trouble he had undergone had made him
ill. He would order his eldest son and all the principal sirdars to
attend and hear the Proclamation read. He was accordingly excused, and
the same afternoon his tents and those of his personal attendants were
moved to the head-quarters. He knew nothing of the contents of the
Proclamation of October 12th, and was quite unaware of the intended
arrest of his Ministers. Such were the circumstances attending his
abdication.
Up to this afternoon it was believed that the ex-Amir was acting in good
faith, but within the last few hours we have had reason to change our
opinion. Since the entrance into the Bala Hissar, on October 12th, Yakub
Khan has been living in a large tent close to head-quarters, and has had
about him a little army of servants, whose tents also have been pitched
about that of their master. He was reported to be much happier in his
mind now that his scheming Ministers had been removed from about his
person, and once or twice he had shown himself among us in the evening,
walking with General Roberts up and down the row of tents in which the
Staff are lodged, and listening with much delight to the band playing
near. The restraint placed upon him after he had come voluntarily into
our camp from among his own people on the lower slope of the Ridge, was
merely that a guard of twenty European soldiers was stationed over his
tents, while two sentries paced before them night and day. This was his
“guard of honour” nominally, though if he had tried to escape they would
instantly have become his gaolers. It was most important that we should
have him with us while we were examining into the guilt of the various
persons concerned in the Massacre; for if once he had been a free agent,
he would probably have been made an instrument of intrigue by such men
as the Mustaufi and the Wazir. This was proved by the episode of Nek
Mahomed’s visit to him at Charasia the day before the action of the 6th,
the commander-in-chief of the rebel army returning to Cabul and
proclaiming that the Amir had ordered all men to resist the British
force. Thus was there every reason to keep him under fairly close
surveillance, as the scattered units of his disbanded army are still
capable of doing harm if once gathered together. In my letter of the
23rd I pointed out very fully the anomalous position we were occupying
here: proclaiming the Amir’s authority on the one hand, and
appropriating all his stores and munitions of war on the other. This
was, of course, written without knowledge of what had occurred on the
12th; and, viewed in the new light that has now scattered the political
darkness here, the anomaly at once vanishes. Yakub Khan had voluntarily
cast away all power and responsibility, and the only course remaining
for Sir F. Roberts was to assume the discarded authority and take every
means to secure order in Cabul. The clearing out of the Bala Hissar and
the appropriation of all that it contained, except Yakub Khan’s personal
property, now stands out as merely an ordinary taking over of effects
surrendered to us, and not the spoliation of a sovereign whose authority
we were re-establishing. We could not, in fact, have done otherwise,
unless we had waited for a declaration of the ministerial policy at
home, and the delay might, perhaps, have had mischievous results.
Now it is all plain-sailing. We know what our course is to be, and we
can follow it out consistently. Yakub Khan as Amir was merely a puppet;
and government through such a medium is always unsatisfactory. Now his
position is simplified—and simplified, too, by his own act—though his
future position in life not a man in camp can foreshadow. The
proclamation accepting his abdication was received here from Simla by
cypher telegram on the 26th; and to-day a translation of it was issued
to the chief sirdars of Cabul, who cannot mistake the meaning conveyed
in the following terse sentences:—
“I, General Roberts, on behalf of the British Government, hereby
proclaim that the Amir having of his own free will abdicated, has left
Afghanistan without a Government. In consequence of the shameful outrage
upon its Envoy and _suite_, the British Government has been compelled to
occupy by force of arms Cabul, the capital, and take military possession
of other parts of Afghanistan. The British Government now commands that
all Afghan authorities, chiefs, and sirdars do continue their functions
in maintaining order, referring to me whenever necessary. The British
Government desires that the people shall be treated with justice and
benevolence, and that their religious feelings and customs be respected.
The services of such sirdars and chiefs as assist in preserving order
will be duly recognized; but all disturbers of the peace and persons
concerned in attacks upon the British authority will meet with condign
punishment. The British Government, after consultation with the
principal sirdars, tribal chiefs, and others representing the interests
and wishes of the various provinces and cities, will declare its will as
to the future permanent arrangements to be made for the good government
of the people.”
Judging from internal evidence, this Proclamation bears the stamp of the
home Ministry, and it has been hailed with unbounded satisfaction by all
among us who have been fearing a repetition of the old shilly-shally
policy which has had such disastrous results. The Government has now
committed itself to a distinct policy which can be proclaimed throughout
Afghanistan, and our duty now is to wait until “the principal sirdars,
tribal chiefs, and others representing the interests and wishes of the
various provinces and cities,” have been made aware of what has
occurred. Messengers will be sent with copies of the Proclamation to
them; and they will no doubt be invited to come to Cabul, and hear the
“will” of the British Government. It is no longer a question of the
“wishes” of the Viceroy of India, but a distinct assertion of our
newly-acquired power in Afghanistan.
To-day has been marked, also, not only by the issue of the Proclamation,
but by a new change of front on the part of Yakub Khan. Whatever his
fears or suspicions may be, or whatever guilty consciousness he may have
of participation in the Massacre, he has withdrawn so far from his
position of the 12th—when he said he would willingly go wherever the
Viceroy might deport him: to India, London, or Malta—that he has
contemplated flight to Turkistan. Such, at least, is the information
generally believed to have been received; and the action taken this
afternoon proves that he has so far committed himself as to jeopardize
his future freedom. About five o’clock his tent was isolated by the
removal of all those of his servants pitched about it: his guard was
increased to forty British soldiers, and instead of two sentries there
are now four pacing to and fro with fixed bayonets. A fifth sentry is
within the tent itself, and the ex-Amir is as close a prisoner as he can
be made. Four personal attendants only are now allowed to him, and
these, also, are under guard. His food will be examined carefully before
it is passed to his servants, and every possible precaution against
outside information being conveyed to him will be taken.
CAMP SIAH SUNG, _30th October_.
Since the issue of the Proclamation and the close confinement of Yakub
Khan to his tent two days ago, there has been no further development of
the situation, and it seems as if we should quietly wait here for the
winter in order to allow events to develop themselves without further
demonstration of our force. We have Cabul city and its guilt to deal
with; and though there are few outward signs of the investigation into
the circumstances surrounding the Massacre of our Embassy, there is a
steady stream of work running on, the results of which have yet to be
declared. This has been done chiefly by Colonel Macgregor, aided
hitherto, by Hyat Khan, Assistant Political Officer, who ferrets out
persons likely to give evidence; and now that Dr. Bellew (the third
member of the Commission) has arrived, still further progress is being
made in unravelling the complicated web of falsehood which has been
drawn about the occurrence. Sixty witnesses have been examined
privately; and, as each one is quite in ignorance of what has been said
before, the truth of the various stories told can be tested by the
comparisons drawn between the testimony of the friends and enemies of
Yakub Khan. Such of his late confidential advisers and adherents as have
come under cross-examination have generally injured his cause by
affirming too much; and plausible stories have been concocted to divert
attention from his shortcoming in not affording material aid to Sir
Louis Cavagnari. Much, for instance, has been made of the little flash
of energy he showed in sending Daoud Shah and thirty men to remonstrate
with the mutineers; and it has been asserted that the determined
attitude of the rabble was proved by Daoud Shah being bayoneted and all
his escort killed. But when this episode is looked closely into, and a
little independent evidence is taken, it becomes apparent that Daoud
Shah had merely a few attendants with him, and none of these were
killed; while he himself was by no means so maltreated as he would have
us believe. There is another incident, too, which assumes a new
complexion when carefully examined. Soon after the Massacre, Yakub Khan
put to death Abdul Karim, a powerful Kohistani chief, whose English
proclivities were very pronounced. The explanation of this act, as given
by Abdullah Gyaz (a confidential adviser of the ex-Amir, arrested
yesterday) is that Yakub Khan sent that chief from his palace to
remonstrate with the troops, and that, instead of carrying out his
orders, he gave direct encouragement to the mutineers, and urged them to
continue their attack on the Residency. Upon Abdul Karim’s return to the
palace, Abdullah Gyaz affirms, Yakub Khan was informed of his
treacherous disobedience, and, after the Massacre had taken place,
ordered that he should be executed. This story is so utterly improbable
that it is scarcely worth consideration; but its falsity has been proved
very directly, as the name of every man of importance who went near the
mutinous troops has been obtained from various sources, friendly and
otherwise, and Abdul Karim has never before been mentioned in the list.
The inference that suggests itself is that the wire-pullers about Yakub
Khan were distrustful of Abdul Karim, whose honesty of purpose and known
sympathy with the English rendered him a dangerous personage in their
eyes, and on the principle that dead men tell no tales, they induced the
Amir to sanction his execution. He probably knew too much, and was put
out of the way before he had an opportunity of using his knowledge. In
an investigation, such as that now going on, it is only possible to
shape out conclusions by inference, for even such witnesses as profess
unbounded friendship towards us lie so circumstantially to serve their
own ends, that very little reliance can be placed on them. It is not as
if a long period had elapsed since the events took place: the occurrence
must still be fresh in the minds of everybody: but there is such a
tendency to intrigue now that our power is established in Cabul, that
distrust is bred in our minds in an increasing ratio as the evidence
accumulates. There is no bottom to the well in which Afghan truth was
sunk ages ago, and it is disheartening to sound it now. The ex-Amir’s
partisans have lied honestly enough to shield their master, while he was
still protected by us; but now that he is a nonentity, and all semblance
of power has passed from him, there may be a change in their attitude.
They have a certain rude idea of faithfulness to their salt; but when
they see their Chief arrested without a word of warning, after being
allowed to move freely among us for weeks, their fortitude may not be
equal to the emergency, and they may seek to purchase their own safety
by voluntary disclosures. For these we must wait.
In the mean time the smaller fry are being dealt with by the Military
Commission, under whose orders eleven prisoners have been hanged. The
order of procedure is that the case against men under arrest is fully
gone into by Colonel Macgregor, aided by Hyat Khan; and when the
evidence and witnesses are ready, the prisoners are “committed,” so to
say, to the Commission, just as in ordinary criminal inquiries they
would be passed from the Police Magistrate to the Assize Judge. There is
no unseemly hurry or vindictive haste displayed in the inquiry. All goes
on systematically and deliberately; and before the Commission the men
under arrest are allowed to hear all that has been stated against them
and to give such explanation as they desire. If there then appears new
matter for inquiry, they are remanded from day to day; and no effort is
spared, in common fairness to them, to test the truth of their
statements. If found guilty, they are condemned to death; but even then
the sentence is not carried out without reference to a third source of
authority—that of Sir Frederick Roberts himself. If he approves the
finding, he signs the order for execution, and the Provost-Marshal has
then to fulfil the duty of his office without delay. But if there seem
doubtful points strong enough to be yet a third time considered, the
sentence of death is held in suspense; and even now we have in our
quarter-guards men in this stage, with the halter dangling before their
eyes. It will be seen that nothing can be fairer than the course taken
by Sir Frederick Roberts to punish such as deserve death for their past
actions in the early weeks of September; and in the face of it there is
none of that reckless blood-spilling which we may get the credit for. In
our Assize the old line—
“And wretches hang that jurymen may dine—”
is unknown: and if there is grumbling occasionally at the pains taken to
convict prisoners instead of hanging them on mere suspicion, it is all
the more creditable to our Chief and his Commissioners that no attention
is paid to it. To-day two men were marched off to execution who richly
deserved their fate. The one was the _jemadar_ of the rascally Kotwal of
Cabul, himself hanged on the 20th. Like the Kotwal, he was most servile
in offering aid to us _after_ our arrival, and, on the night of the 8th,
acted as a guide to some troops marching up the Bala Hissar Ridge, in
connection with the action against the rebels on that day. The second
prisoner was a Mahomedan resident of Cabul, in whose house a box, marked
“Cabul Embassy,” was found by a searching party of the 28th Regiment. He
could give no explanation of how he came by the box, except the
colourless one that it had been placed in his rooms by an enemy. Several
guns and swords were also found in his house; and, nothing in his favour
being forthcoming, he was sent to execution. The guilt or innocence of
the confidential friends of Yakub Khan, who are now prisoners, is still
a question of doubt; but none are arrested without justification, and
their cases will undergo the usual scrutiny.
There is a probability that the taking of Cabul may not be so barren as
we first thought in the matter of loot. The city itself having been
respected, there was not much to get out of the Bala Hissar beyond
warlike stores and ammunition. But to-day the news has been made known
that a vast store of treasure is hidden in houses belonging to Yakub
Khan, or his near relatives living within the walls. Our treasure-chest
has sunk very low of late by reason of the enormous purchases made by
the Commissariat, which has to provide five months’ stores for the army.
Carriage was so scarce when we marched up from Ali Kheyl, that only a
few lakhs were brought up, and poverty is staring us in the face. Such
expedients as giving bills upon India to Hindu and Kizilbash merchants
in Cabul, or in receiving from Wali Mahomed and his sirdars many
thousands of Bokhara gold _tillahs_ (worth Rs. 9 or Rs. 10 each), or
Russian five-rouble pieces said to be worth Rs. 11-8, though nobody
really knows their legitimate market value—such expedients could not
last long; and as nothing has been done to exact the fine imposed upon
the Cabulis, it was clear that specie would have to be raised from some
source yet untouched. It is said that Yakub Khan, on assuming the
Amirship, appropriated many lakhs of rupees which his father had given
to the mother of Abdullah Jan, Shere Ali’s favourite son, and these he
had cleared out of the Bala Hissar, and, with other property of value,
had hidden in the city. A little party of British soldiers filed off to
the house indicated by our informers this morning, and the officer in
charge of our treasure-chest (Major Moriarty) and Lieutenant Neville
Chamberlain, Assistant Political Officer, had soon their eyes gladdened
by bags and boxes of gold coins, besides finding on all sides rich
silks, brocades, and other portable property of enormous value. About
eight lakhs in gold were secured, and native rumour affirms that before
the examination comes to an end, a million sterling may be unearthed.
Boxes innumerable have still to be opened, and our spies are firm in
their assurance that the value in coin and precious stones alone is
eighty lakhs of rupees. To-morrow the examination of the place will be
continued, and it is hoped another good day’s find will be the result.
This prize-money, for no doubt it will be considered as such, if it is
confiscated, will be a just reward for the energy and dash our commander
and his troops have shown in the capture of Cabul; and even if it is
found necessary to use the money now for our immediate wants, the debtor
and creditor account should be carefully kept in view of future
distribution. Such scandals as that of Delhi and Kirwee need not be
repeated in the case of Cabul.[22]
-----
Footnote 22:
It has since been ruled that the treasure is not to be considered
prize-money. Abdur Rahman, upon his accession to the Amirship, was
given 19½ lakhs of rupees, of which 9½ will appear in the accounts as
“refunded to the Afghan Government.” This was the sum found in Cabul
as detailed above.
-----
----------------------------