they could do without an adjutant, and thus save money. This fell hardly
on Havelock, who was very poor, and when he went back to his regiment
his wife and child had to live in two tiny rooms on the ramparts. Mrs.
Havelock never complained, but in a hot climate like India plenty of
space and air are necessary for health, and both father and mother were
terrified lest the baby should suffer. However, very soon the new
governor-general gave him the adjutancy of his own regiment, then at
Agra, and things grew brighter. His days were passed in drilling and
looking after his men, but he still took thought for their welfare in
their spare hours, and managed to get some chapels put up for them, and
to open a coffee-house, with games and books, which he hoped might keep
them out of mischief.
* * * * *
Now at this date, and for many years after, it was the custom in the
English army that the officers should _buy_ their promotion, unless a
vacancy occurred by death. Havelock was a poor man, and like many
well-known Indian soldiers had to depend for luck on his 'steps,' or
advancement. If, like Havelock, officers exchanged into other regiments,
they were put back to the bottom of the list, and had to work their way
up all over again.
Besides this there were _two_ armies in India, one belonging to the
English sovereign, and the other to the East India Company's Service,
under which near a hundred years before Clive had won his battles. It
was the officers serving under 'John Company,' as it was called, who had
all the 'plums' of the profession; who governed large provinces, made
treaties with the native princes, and gave orders even to the general
himself. Outram, who afterwards entered Lucknow side by side with
Havelock; sir Henry Lawrence, who died defending the city before Outram
and Havelock fought their way in; John Nicholson, who was killed in the
siege of Delhi, and hundreds of other well-known men, all wore the
Company's colours and received rewards. For the officers of the royal
army it was no uncommon thing for a man to wait fifty years before being
made a general, as lord Roberts's father waited; so, although it was
very disheartening for Havelock to see young men, with not half his
brains but with ten times his income, become captains and majors and
colonels over his head, he knew well what he had to expect, and also
that he possessed thousands of companions in misfortune.
By-and-by the Company's army was done away with, and India is now ruled
in an entirely different way.
It was in the autumn of 1836 that Havelock sent up his wife and little
children for a change to a hill station called Landour. The cool air and
quiet were very restful after the heat of the summer, and at last they
were all able to sleep, instead of tossing to and fro through the dark
hours, longing for the dawn.
One night the moon was shining brightly, and Mrs. Havelock had stepped
out on her verandah before she went to bed, and thought how beautiful
and peaceful everything looked. A few hours later she was awakened by a
dense smoke, and jumping up found that the house was on fire all round
her. She snatched up her baby and opened the door to get to the room
where the two little boys were sleeping with their ayah, or nurse, but
such a rush of flames met her that she staggered back and fell. In an
instant her thin nightdress was on fire, and she was so blinded by the
glare and the smoke that she did not know which way to turn. Happily one
of the native servants heard the noise, and, wrapping a wet blanket
about him which was too damp to burn, he managed to crawl over the floor
and drag her through the verandah to a place of safety. He then ran back
and succeeded in reaching the two boys and putting them beside their
mother, but not before the eldest had been badly burnt.
[Illustration: He managed to crawl over the floor.]
As for the baby, she died in a few days, and it was thought that her
mother, who had been borne unconscious to the house of a neighbour,
could hardly survive her many hours.
Such was the news which reached Havelock at Kurnaul, where the regiment
was now stationed. It was a crushing blow to him, but, with a violent
effort to control himself, he sent a hasty request to the colonel for
leave, and arranged the most important parts of his work, so that it
might be carried on by another officer. He had just finished and was
ready to start when a message was brought in from the men of his
regiment, who were waiting below, begging that he would speak to them
for one moment. Half dazed he hurried out to the courtyard, and then the
sergeant stepped forward from the ranks, and in a few words told him of
the sorrow with which all his company had heard of the terrible
calamity, and hoped that he would accept a month of their pay to go
towards replacing the burnt furniture.
Havelock was touched to the heart, and his eyes filled with tears of
gratitude. His voice shook as he stammered out his thanks, but he could
not take their savings, though to the end of his life he never forgot
the kindness of their offer. Happily Mrs. Havelock did not die, and in a
few months was as well as ever.
* * * * *
In 1838, when Havelock had been twenty-three years a soldier, he
obtained his captaincy by the death of the man above him, and in the end
of the same year the war with Afghanistan gave him another chance of
distinguishing himself.
It was a very unfortunate and badly managed business. The native ruler,
the Ameer or Dost Mohammed, who had for twelve years governed the
country fairly well, was deposed, and a weak and treacherous prince,
hated by all the Afghans, was chosen by us to replace him. This could
only be done by the help of our troops, and although Englishmen who knew
Cabul pointed out to the governor-general the folly of his course, lord
Auckland would listen to no one, and the expedition which was to finish
in disaster was prepared.
Havelock's old friend sir Willoughby Cotton was given the command of the
part of the army destined for Afghanistan itself, while the other half
remained as a reserve in the Punjaub. Cotton appointed Havelock his
aide-de-camp, greatly to his delight, and at the end of December 1838
the march began. As far as the Indus things went smoothly enough, but
after that difficulties crowded in upon them. They had deserts to cross,
and not enough animals to drag their guns and waggons, food grew scarcer
and scarcer, and at length the general ordered 'famine rations' to be
served out. It was winter also, and the country was high and bitterly
cold, and April was nearly at its close before the city of Candahar was
reached. Here sickness broke out among the troops, and they were obliged
to wait in the town till the crops had ripened and they could get proper
supplies for their march to Cabul.
The first step towards winning Cabul was the capture of Ghuzni, a strong
fortress lying two hundred and seventy miles to the north of Candahar.
This was carried by assault during the night, the only gate not walled
up being blown open by the English. In the rush into the town which
followed, colonel Sale was thrown on the ground while struggling
desperately with a huge native, who was standing over him.
'Do me the favour to pass your sword through the body of the infidel,'
cried Sale, politely, to captain Kershaw, who had just come up. The
captain obligingly did as he was asked, and the Afghan fell dead beside
his foe.
[Illustration: The captain obligingly did as he was asked.]
Early in August the British army reached the town of Cabul, on the river
of the same name, and found that the Dost Mohammed had fled into the
mountains of the Hindu Koosh, leaving the city ready to welcome the
British. As everything was quiet, and the army was to remain in Cabul
for the winter, Havelock obtained permission to go back to Serampore,
near Calcutta, in the hope of bringing out a book he had been writing
about the march across the Indus. Unluckily this book, like the two
others he wrote, proved a failure; which was the more unfortunate as, in
order to get it published, Havelock had been obliged to refuse sir
Willoughby Cotton's offer of a Persian interpretership. But he needed
money for his boy's education, and thought he might obtain it through
his book. Therefore this lack of a sale was a bitter disappointment to
him.
Just at that time a company of recruits had been raised for service in
Cabul, and in June 1840 Havelock started in charge of them from
Serampore. He had the whole width of India to cross, and at Ferozepore,
on a tributary of the Indus, he joined general Elphinstone, the
successor of Cotton, who was retiring. Why Elphinstone should have been
chosen to conduct a war which the mountainous country was certain to
render difficult is a mystery, and another mystery is why Elphinstone
should have accepted the appointment, as he was so crippled with gout
that he could hardly move. However, there he was, commander-in-chief of
this part of the expedition, and from this unwise choice resulted many
of the calamities which followed.
* * * * *
The general could not travel fast, and it was more than six months
before they reached Cabul. Havelock, now Persian interpreter to
Elphinstone, was much disturbed at the condition of things that they
found on their arrival, and at the folly which had lost us the support
of the native hill tribes, who had hitherto acted as our paid police and
guarded the passes leading into the Punjaub. So when Sale's brigade,
with a native regiment, a small force of cavalry and artillery, and a
few engineers under the famous George Broadfoot, marched eastwards up
the river Cabul, they discovered that the passes had all been blocked by
the mountaineers, who were ready to spring out and attack the English
from all sorts of unsuspected hiding-places.
Now Havelock had not drawn his sword since the end of the Burmese war,
and directly he saw a chance of fighting he had begged to be allowed to
accept the appointment of staff-officer offered him by Sale. This was
given him, and the troops had only gone a few miles from Cabul when the
fighting began, and Sale was severely wounded.
It is impossible to tell all the details of the march, but much of the
burden of it fell on Havelock's shoulders, as Sale could not go about
and see after things himself. Here, as always, he proved himself, as
Kaye the historian says, 'every inch a soldier.' 'Among our good
officers,' wrote Broadfoot at the time, 'first comes captain Havelock.
The whole of them together would not compensate for his loss. He is
brave to admiration, invariably cool, and, as far as I can see or
judge, correct in his views.'
All along the march up the Cabul these qualities were badly needed, for
it was necessary to watch night and day lest the little army should be
taken unawares by the hill tribes. At last the rocky country was left
behind, and they halted in the rich and well-wooded town of Gundamak, to
rest for a little and to wait Elphinstone's orders. The letters, when
they came, told a fearful tale. The Afghans had risen in Cabul; Burnes,
the East India Company's officer in Afghanistan, had been murdered,
together with other men, among them Broadfoot's brother, and though
there were five thousand British troops stationed only two miles away,
as Havelock well knew, they had never been called out to quell the
insurrection.
Under these circumstances Elphinstone implored Sale to return without
delay to Cabul.
* * * * *
A council of war was held to decide what was to be done. They all saw
that if it had been difficult to get through the passes before, it would
be almost impossible now, when the success at Cabul had given fresh
courage and audacity to the hill-men, and thousands who had hung back
waiting to know if the insurrection would be successful or not would
have rushed to the help of their country. Besides, with five thousand
fresh troops close to the city, the English could hardly be in such
desperate straits. So Sale decided to disobey Elphinstone's orders and
to push on to Jellalabad further up the river.
Jellalabad was not reached without much fighting, and when they entered
the town it was clear that it would not be easy to hold, and that the
walls stood in much need of repair. However, Broadfoot was the kind of
man who felt that whatever _had_ to be done _could_ be done, and he
turned out his corps, consisting of natives of every tribe, to work on
the fortifications. Happily he had brought with him from Cabul all the
tools that were necessary, and the Afghan fire which poured in upon them
was soon checked by Colonel Monteath, who scattered the enemy for the
time being.
This left the garrison a chance of getting in supplies; but they were
short of powder and shot, and orders were issued that it should not be
used unnecessarily.
* * * * *
On the morning of January 8, 1842, three Afghans rode into the town,
bearing a letter from Cabul, signed both by sir Henry Pottinger and
general Elphinstone. This told them that a treaty had been concluded by
which the English had agreed to retire from Afghanistan, and bidding
Sale to quit Jellalabad at once and proceed to India, leaving behind him
his artillery and any stores or baggage that he might not be able to
carry with him.
With one voice the council of war, which was hastily summoned, declined
once more to obey these instructions, which they declared had been wrung
out of Elphinstone by force. Jellalabad should be held at any cost, and
the news that they received during the following week only strengthened
their resolution. The British in Cabul were hemmed in by their enemies,
the cantonments or barracks were deserted, and the sixteen thousand
fugitives had been surrounded outside the city by Afghan troops led by
the son of the Dost Mohammed. These things gave the defenders of
Jellalabad enough to think of, and to fear.
* * * * *
Five days later some officers on the roof of a tall house were sweeping
the horizon with their field glasses to see if there was any chance of
an attack from the Afghans, who were always hovering about watching for
some carelessness on the part of the besieged. But gaze as they might,
nothing was moving in the broad valley, or along the banks of the three
streams which watered it. They were turning away satisfied that at
present there was no danger, when one of them uttered a sudden cry, and
snatching the glasses from his companion, exclaimed, 'Yes, I am right. A
man riding a pony has just come round that corner. It is the Cabul road,
and his clothes are English. Look!'
The others looked, and saw for themselves. The pony's head drooped, and
he was coming wearily down the road, while it was clear that the rider
was urging the poor beast to his best speed. A chill feeling of disaster
filled the little group; they hastened down to the walls and gave a
shout of welcome, and the man waved his cap in answer.
'Throw open the gate,' said the major, and they all rushed out to hear
what the stranger had to tell.
* * * * *
It was a fearful tale. The general in Cabul had listened to the promises
of the son of the Dost Mohammed, and had ordered the five thousand
troops and ten thousand other hangers-on of the British army to leave
their position, in which they were safe, and trust themselves solely to
the Afghans. Cold, hungry, and tired they struggled to the foot of the
mountains; then the signal was given, the Afghans fell on their victims,
and the few who escaped were lost among the snows of the passes. Only
Dr. Brydon had been lucky enough to strike a path where no one followed
him, and in spite of wounds and exhaustion had managed to reach the
walls of Jellalabad.
In silence the men listened, horror in their faces. It seemed impossible
that Englishmen should have walked blindfold into such a trap, and
besides the grief and rage they felt at the fate of their countrymen
another thought was in the minds of all. The Afghans would be
intoxicated by their success, and at any moment might swoop down upon
the ill-defended Jellalabad. Instantly the gates were closed, the
horses saddled, and every man went to his post. At night bonfires were
lit and bugles sounded every half-hour to guide to the city any
fugitives that might be hiding in the woods or behind the rocks. But
none came--none ever came save Brydon.
* * * * *
Meanwhile Sale was daily expecting a relief force under Wild; but
instead there arrived the news that Wild had been unable to fight his
way through the terrible Khyber Pass--the scene of more than one tragedy
in Indian history.
In face of this a council of war was again held to consider what was
best to be done. Most of the officers wished to abandon the city and
make terms with the Afghans, in spite of the lesson that had already
been given them of what was the fate of those who trusted to Afghan
faith. Only Broadfoot and Havelock opposed violently this resolution,
and in the end their views prevailed. Jellalabad was to be defended by
the garrison till general Pollock arrived from the East.
So matters went for the next three months. By this time the raw troops
that had entered the city had become steady and experienced soldiers.
There was a little fighting every now and then, which served to keep up
their spirits, and though food needed to be served out carefully, they
were able sometimes to drive in cattle from the hills, which gave them
fresh supplies. On February 19 Sale received a letter from general
Pollock asking how long they could hold out, and he was writing an
answer at a table, with Havelock beside him, when suddenly the table
began to rock and the books slid on to the ground. Then a whirlwind of
dust rushed past the window, making everything black as night, and the
floor seemed to rise up under their feet.
[Illustration: Suddenly the table began to rock.]
The two men jumped up, and, blinded and giddy as they were, made their
way outside, where they were nearly deafened with the noise of tumbling
houses and the cries of hurt and frightened people. It was no use to
fly, for havoc was all round them, and they were no safer in one place
than another. At last the earth ceased to tremble and houses to fall;
the dust stopped dancing and whirling, and the sun once more appeared.
During the first shock of the earthquake Broadfoot was standing with
another officer on the ramparts, his eyes fixed on the defences, which
had caused him so much labour, and were now falling like nine-pins.
'This is the time for Akbar Khan,' he said, and if Akbar had not dreaded
the earthquake more than British guns the massacre of Cabul would have
been repeated in Jellalabad. But though Akbar feared greatly, he knew
that his soldiers feared yet more; he waited several days till the earth
seemed peaceful again, and then rode up to a high hill from which he
could overlook the city.
'Why, it is witchcraft!' he cried, as he saw the defences all in their
places; for Broadfoot's men had worked so well that in a week everything
had been rebuilt exactly as before.
* * * * *
March passed with some skirmishes, but when April came the senior
officers told Sale that they strongly advised an attack on Akbar, who,
with six thousand men, had taken up a position on the Cabul river two
miles from Jellalabad, and had placed an outpost of three hundred picked
men only three-quarters of a mile outside the walls. Broadfoot had been
badly wounded in a skirmish a fortnight before, and could not fight, so
the attacking party, consisting of three divisions of five hundred each,
were led by Dennie, Monteath and Havelock. Dennie was mortally wounded
in trying to carry the outpost, and Havelock halted and formed some of
his men into a square to await Akbar's charge, leaving part of his
division behind a walled enclosure to the right.
Having made his arrangements, Havelock stood outside the square and near
to the wall, so that he could command both parties, and told his troops
to wait till the Afghans were close upon them before they fired; but in
their excitement they disobeyed orders, and Havelock's horse, caught
between two fires, plunged and threw him. In another moment he would
have been trampled under the feet of the Afghan cavalry had not three of
his soldiers dashed out from the ranks and dragged him into the square.
[Illustration: In another moment he would have been trampled under the
feet of the Afghan cavalry.]
The enemy were thrown into confusion and retired to re-form. They
charged again, and were again repulsed, and by seven that morning
Akbar's camp was abandoned and his power broken.
Pollock's assistance had not been needed; the garrison of Jellalabad had
delivered themselves.
* * * * *
There is no room in this story to tell of the many wars in which
Havelock took part during the next fifteen years, always doing good work
and gaining the confidence of his commanding officers. He fought in the
war with the Mahrattas in 1843, and was made lieutenant-colonel after
the battle of Maharajpore. The following year he was fighting by sir
Hugh Gough's side in the Punjaub against the Sikhs, who were the best
native soldiers in India, and had been carefully trained by French
officers. In this war four battles took place in fifty-five days, all
close to the river Sutlej, but the last action at the village of Sobraon
put an end to hostilities for two years to come.
'India has been saved by a miracle,' writes Havelock, 'but the loss was
terrific on both sides.'
* * * * *
In 1849 Havelock, who had exchanged from the 13th into the 39th, and
again into the 53rd, applied for leave of absence to join his family in
England. It was his first visit home for twenty-six years, and
everything was full of interest to him. His health had broken down, and
if he had been rich enough he would certainly have retired; but he had
never been able to save a six-pence, and there were five sons and two
daughters to be educated and supported. Should he die, Mrs. Havelock
would have a pension of 70 l. a year, and the three youngest children
20 l. each till they were fourteen, when it would cease. This, in
addition to 1,000 l. which he possessed, was all the family had to
depend on.
Therefore, leaving them at Bonn, on the Rhine, where teaching was good
and living cheap, he returned to India in December 1851, rested both in
mind and body, and in good spirits. To his great joy a few months later
his eldest son was given the adjutancy of the 10th Foot, and he himself
was promoted to various posts where the pay was good and the work light.
Now that he had some leisure he went back to his books, and in a letter
to his youngest son, George, on his fifth birthday, he bids him read all
the accounts he can find of the battles that had just been fought in the
Crimea--Alma, Balaclava, and Inkerman--and when his father came home to
England again he would make him drawings, and show him how they were
fought. But little George had to understand the battles as best he
might, for his father never came back to explain them to him.
* * * * *
After serving in Persia during the early part of 1857, Havelock was
suddenly ordered to return to India to take part in the struggle which
gave him undying fame, and a grave at Lucknow before the year was out.
According to the testimony of Kaye the historian, for half a century he
had been seriously studying his profession, and knew every station
between Burmah and Afghanistan! 'Military glory,' says Kaye, 'was the
passion of his life, but at sixty-two he had never held an independent
command.'
Now, in the mutiny which had shaken our rule to its foundation, all
Havelock's study of warfare and all his experience were to bear fruit. A
great many causes had led up to that terrible outbreak of the native
soldiers, or sepoys, early in 1857. India is, as you perhaps know, a
huge country made up of different nations, some of whom are Mahometans,
or followers of the prophet Mahomet, and worshippers of one God, while
most of the rest have a number of gods and goddesses. These nations are
divided into various castes or classes, each with its own rules, and
the man of one caste will not eat food cooked by the man of another, or
touch him, or marry his daughter, lest he should become unclean.
It is easy to see how an army composed of all these races would be very
hard to manage, especially as it is impossible for any white man, who is
used to changes going on about him, really to understand the minds of
people who have followed the same customs from father to son for
thousands of years. And if it is difficult for the English officers to
understand the Hindoos, it is too much to expect that soldiers without
education should do so either.