The following day the rest of the first brigade marched up to Ahmed-I-shama; while the advanced force, under Colonel Gordon, moved on to Hazir-pir. The Rangers were with the first brigade, but not with the advanced party. This was composed wholly of native troops, consisting of the Pioneer regiments and the Sappers and Miners. These had hard work, for the road—which was fifteen miles in length—was scarcely passable for wheeled carriages, and the guns could not be taken along until the boulders and blocks of stone, which strewed the way, were removed or blasted into pieces.

On the 23rd the Rangers, with the Horse Artillery battery and two native regiments, marched towards Hazir-pir; but the difficulties of the road were so great that they had to camp, for the night, four miles short of that place. General Roberts and the headquarters went forward the same day.

As the general passed along the road, the headmen of all the villages near came and paid their respects; and the villagers lined the roads as the troops passed, offering fowls, eggs, milk, and dried fruit for sale. As William Gale had brought a supply of money with him, he was able to indulge in all those luxuries and, indeed, as the men had had few opportunities of spending money at Thull, all were well supplied with cash.

The halt at Hazir-pir was, then, a very pleasant one. Supplies of grass, fuel, and provisions were brought in, in considerable quantities, there; but much difficulty arose in settling the terms of purchase, as coin was almost unknown in the valley and, therefore, there was no established price—one native being ready to sell, for a few coppers, articles for which another demanded as many pieces of silver. On the hills around a considerable number of sheep were seen grazing; but the natives did not care about selling these which, indeed, belonged for the most part, not to the Turis—the tribe which inhabit the valley—but to nomad Ghilzais who, like the Swiss shepherds, move about with their charges among the mountains, wherever fodder is to be obtained.

Khuram valley, itself, is bare and monotonous. With the exception of fruit trees planted round the villages, scarce a tree is to be found; but each village is marked by a huge chunar—or oriental plane—beneath which the villagers rest during the noonday heat.

But if the valley itself was bare and desolate, the scenery around was lovely. The great range of mountains known as the Safaid-Koh bound the valley on the east and north. This range averages 14,000 feet high, from which spurs run out at right angles, enclosing narrower valleys, with broiling torrents rushing through boulders. The slopes of these valleys are covered with luxuriant vegetation, till the limit of trees is reached at a height of about 11,000 feet; above which, in winter, the snow lies thick while, in summer, it furnishes the finest pasture to the Ghilzai flocks and herds. The valley lands and the lower slopes of the hills are laid out in terraces, and irrigated rice fields extend near the rivers. Valley and hill are alike covered with stones and boulders, Afghanistan being probably the most stony country in the world.

On the 24th the headquarters, with the cavalry and two regiments, moved forward ten miles and encamped at the south end of the Darwazi Pass—the road leading to open, broad valleys, covered with dwarf palms, and wholly uncultivated. On the 25th the advanced force crossed the pass, which was a gentle slope and offered no great difficulty and, at night, encamped at the Khuram fort, which had been evacuated by the enemy. The buildings—which would have been useful for the troops—had, however, been wrecked by the Turis; who have a deadly hate for the Afghans—their masters—and who were also animated in their work of destruction by a desire to obtain wood, which is exceedingly scarce there.

At Khuram there are two forts, the one 120 yards and the other 100 yards square. Inside these were quarters for the governor, and huts for the garrison and officers; and in the smaller forts were stables for the cavalry forces. This place was made the headquarters of the forces in the Khuram valley.

The general now rode on, with two squadrons of the 12th Bengal Cavalry, to reconnoiter in the direction of the Peiwar-Khotal; towards which the enemy were supposed to be retreating, and where they were expected to make a stand. As they approached the village of Peiwar, two villages were seen in flames; and news was brought in that three Afghan regiments, with twelve guns, had lately passed through. The natives reported that they were encumbered by their guns, and that forced labor was procured for the purpose of removing them. Later on, a rumor came that the twelve guns were stuck in the ravine at the foot of the Khotal, or pass.

With but a small force of cavalry at his command, the general could do nothing; and so returned to Khuram, and determined to hurry up the troops faster than he had intended, so as to capture the guns reported—as was afterwards proved, falsely—to have been left behind by the Afghans. The sick and all superfluous baggage were left behind at Khuram and, on the 28th, the troops moved at daybreak; the two brigades marching in parallel columns.

The cold was now severe at night, although it was hot in the daytime. It had been intended to halt at Halid-Kitta, four miles from the Khotal; but the intelligence arriving—that the Ameer's troops had abandoned their guns, and were in disorderly retreat—decided the general to push forward at once to the Peiwar-Khotal—seven miles further—instead of waiting, and giving the enemy time to strengthen their position. A mile from the foot of the actual ascent of the Khotal lies the village of Turrai, two miles and a half beyond Peiwar. Turrai is situated in a valley, the ground at whose entrance is very much broken up by the shoulders and spurs of the hill.

The left column—the 5th and 29th Punjaub in advance, with the 2nd battalion of the 8th and the 23rd Pioneers, the Rangers, and two guns of the Number 1 mountain battery in support—were sent to the left, with instructions to turn a ridge forming the south boundary of the valley, and to seize the village of Turrai. They were also to follow up, closely, any body of retreating Afghan troops that they might come across. The light brigade were to march up the regular road to the Peiwar, thus supporting the attack of the left brigade.

The left brigade followed out its orders, except that the regiment in support did not go round the southern side of the spur, but kept to the north. No enemy was seen on the south side of the spur so, when a track leading across to Turrai was reached, the troops moved down towards the village; the regiments in support advancing at the foot of the open, on the north side. The mountain path that the advanced troops were now filing down did not lead directly to the village, but fell into the valley ahead of it, at a point where it widens out into what was known as the "punch bowl valley," at the foot of the Peiwar-Khotal.

As soon as the head of the column reached this spot, they came in sight of the Afghans; who showed themselves in great numbers on the crest of the mountain, far above their heads. As the troops had no orders to attack so formidable a position, they fell back towards Turrai, which was about a quarter of a mile to the rear. At the sight of this movement, the Afghans swarmed down a spur of the hill, and commenced an attack on the regiments that were moving towards the village. The 29th Punjaubees climbed the hill and a sharp skirmish ensued, the two mounted guns coming into action.

While this was going on, the main body of the troops arrived at Turrai. The advanced troops were recalled, and the 5th Ghoorkas were advanced to cover the movement. As it was now seen that the story of the abandonment of the guns was false, orders were given to pile arms in the village, and to encamp there.

This step was an imprudent one, as the Afghans speedily showed. While our men were sitting or lying upon the ground, waiting for the baggage to arrive, the Afghans brought up a mountain gun from the main ridge—about three-quarters of a mile distant—to the point of the spur overlooking the village of Turrai, and opened fire at 1700 yards range.

The astonishment of the troops, when the first shell fell among them, was great. Every one jumped to his feet, and seized his rifle; and the guns of the Royal Horse Artillery were brought at once into action. It was four o'clock in the afternoon when the Afghans opened fire. Had they waited for a few hours, brought up another gun or two, and made a night attack immediately after opening fire, it is morally certain that the imprudence of camping in such a position would have been punished by a disaster, which might have vied with that of Isandula. Huddled together in a small village surrounded by scrub; and impeded, as the troops would have been, by the baggage animals and native followers, rushing in terror in all directions, our men would have been taken at an immense disadvantage.

Fortunate was it that the enemy opened fire before the darkness set in. The troops were at once ordered to fall back a mile and a half, and to pitch on fresh ground. There was much confusion in the retreat, as the road in the rear was crowded with the baggage animals. The spot chosen for the camp was a rough one; for the ground was covered with scrub, and a scattered growth of hill oak and thorny bushes, and was broken by the remains of some ancient terraces but, as the jungle and broken ground extended for three and a half miles, there was nothing for it but to take up the best position possible, under the circumstances. The troops bivouacked on the ridge of a ravine, with steep banks; which formed a line of defense in front of the camp, while the view in every other direction was obscured by trees.

The regiments passed a wretched night on the rough ground. Most of them were unable to find their baggage, which was wandering in the scrub in the dark; and the greater part of the troops lay down on the bare ground, and went supperless to sleep, after their fatiguing march of twenty-one miles.

In the morning, both men and cattle were greatly exhausted by their long marches and almost sleepless nights; and General Roberts determined to wait, for a day or two, to reconnoiter the formidable position of the enemy before undertaking its attack. The camp was shifted to a more secure site, the brushwood and trees were cleared away, the tents pitched, and the troops were again comfortable.

A reconnaissance was made by Colonel Perkins—commanding the Royal Engineers—with two companies of the Pioneers. He ascertained that a deep ravine lay between the ridge on which they were encamped and the Khotal itself, and that it was impossible to direct an attack on that side.

Major Collett also, with two companies of the 23rd, proceeded to reconnoiter the route known as the Spingawi—or Cow—Pass. This, instead of going straight up the hill in front, wound round its foot to the right of the valley. Ascending the mountain at a point some three or four miles to the east of the Peiwar-Khotal, the reconnaissance reached the summit of a ridge about five miles distant from the camp, and overlooking the Spingawi-Khotal. It was ascertained that the road up the pass seemed easy and practicable, for all arms; that the top of the pass appeared to be on the same ridge as the Peiwar-Khotal; and that a force, working from it towards the Peiwar, would pass over a series of dominating positions. It did not appear to Major Collett that the enemy held the Peiwar-Khotal in force; although there was a gun on a commanding knoll on the south, and there seemed to be one at the top of the pass. The road from the village of Peiwar to the top of the Spingawi Pass seemed perfectly easy, for troops of all arms.

The next two days were spent in clearing the camp and, so far as possible, improving its military position; but it was still surrounded by thick oak jungle, which would have afforded cover for an enemy making a sudden attack.

A further reconnaissance was made of the Spingawi Pass and, as the examination confirmed Major Collett's report, it was determined to attack by it. Orders were issued, on the 1st of December, for a march that night. The regiments which were to form the main attack, by the Spingawi plateau route, were the 29th Punjaub Infantry and the 5th Ghoorkas—commanded by Colonel Gordon—in advance; these were to be followed by the mountain battery, a wing of the 72nd Highlanders, a company of the Rangers, the 2nd Punjaubees, and the 23rd Pioneers, under Brigadier General Thelwall. Four guns, on elephants, were to proceed with the column. The 5th Punjaub Infantry, the 8th Regiment, two guns Royal Horse Artillery, three guns Royal Artillery, and the 5th Bengal Cavalry—the whole under the command of Brigadier General Cobbe—were to make an attack on the Peiwar-Khotal direct.

The rest of the force was to remain to guard the camp and—in order to convince the enemy that a front attack upon the Peiwar-Khotal was intended—a party of pioneers, with an engineer officer and a covering party of the 8th Regiment, were to construct a battery near the village of Turrai. Frequent reconnoitering parties had also been sent out in this direction and, so well was the secret of the general's intention to attack by the Spingawi Khotal kept, that everyone in camp who had not been let into the secret was confident that the Peiwar-Khotal would be stormed, on the morrow.

The enemy—although those in camp were ignorant of the fact—were reinforced, on the 1st, by four regiments of infantry, with a mountain battery and, on their side, were meditating an attack upon the British camp. The regiments which had freshly arrived were, however, fatigued by their long march; and the assault on our camp was postponed until the next day, and the chance of its coming off was, therefore, lost for ever.

To William Gale's great satisfaction, a company of the Rangers—that to which he had been posted—was the one selected by the colonel to accompany the column marching up the pass. He did not, indeed, know that this was the route by which they were to advance; but he was pleased at not being left behind, with the regiment, in charge of the camp.

"Well, young 'un," a corporal said to him, that evening, "we are going to be under fire, at last; and a nice climb we shall have of it. It puts one out of breath, to look at that steep road running up the hill and, when it comes to fighting one's way up it, with cannon and Afghans on the top, we shall find it hard work."

"I expect," William answered, "that we sha'n't go up it at any extraordinary pace. If we skirmish up—as I expect we shall—from rock to rock, we shall have plenty of time to get our wind, at each halt. We are not to take our knapsacks; so we shall fight light, and we have not much extra weight to carry. What with the heat, and what with the long marches, I should think I must have lost a stone in weight, since we landed in Calcutta."

"I don't think you have lost weight at all," the corporal said; "it seems to me that you have grown and widened out, in the two months and, only yesterday, when I was sizing the company, I had to move you two men higher; for a young 'un, you stand the fatigues well."

"I am all right," Will said, "except that I have got some frightful blisters on my feet. I was not going to say anything about it, because I should have been kept in hospital, and left behind at Khuram; but I have hardly known how to march, the last few days. I don't think I could possibly have managed it, if I had not adopted the native dodge of wearing putties—which I have greased well on the inside, and wear instead of stockings."

Putties, it may be said, are slips of woolen cloth, about two and a half yards long and three inches wide, with a tape sewn into one end. They are wound round and round the leg, from the ankle to below the knee, and secured by the end being tied with the tape. Nearly every one, officers and men, wore them through the campaign. For a long march there could be no doubt that these bandages—wound round the foot instead of stockings—are very preferable, as they obviate the liability to foot sores. Even with well-made boots all pedestrians may, at times, suffer from sore feet; but the liability is immensely increased when—as in the case of the British soldier—the boots are coarse, roughly sewn, and frequently ill fitted.



Chapter 10: The Peiwar-Khotal.

At ten o'clock at night, on the 1st of December, the troops detailed for the attack mustered in the camp. The assembly took place without sound of bugle, and even the necessary words of command were given in a low tone. Through the still night air the Afghans on the hills, little more than two miles away, would have heard the stir. It was a very dark night, although the stars shone clear.

"Where can we be going?" William Gale asked the soldier next to him. "We are going right away from the pass, instead of towards it."

"So we are!" the soldier replied. "I am blest if I know what we are up to, and it's so precious dark that I can scarcely see the file before me. I hope we ain't going to fight in the dark, anyhow. What would be the good of being a marksman, when you cannot see the end of your own rifle, let alone the man you are firing at?"

"Oh! We can't be going to attack in the dark," Will said. "I expect we have got a long march before us; and are going to work round, somehow, and take them in rear."

"Well, I hope whoever is acting as guide can see better in the darkness than I can; else we are safe to lose our way, and may find ourselves anywhere, in the morning.

"Confound it!" The exclamation was elicited by the speaker stumbling over a boulder, and nearly going on to his head.

"Silence in the ranks, there!" an officer said, close by.

Each regiment was followed by its ammunition mules, and hospital doolies—the latter being covered stretchers, or palkies, carried by natives. Besides these were dandies—or chairs—slung upon mules. This greatly added to the difficulty of a night march for, even in the daytime, the presence of baggage animals in a column, upon a narrow road, greatly hinders the troops and, at night, the delays occasioned by them are naturally very much greater.

For the first three and a half miles the column marched away from the enemy upon the Khotal, and the surprise of the soldiers increased at every step they took. At the end of that time they arrived at the village of Peiwar. Here they turned to the left and, after crossing several ravines, and stony water courses, arrived on a cultivated terrace; and kept along this till they reached a very stiff nullah, twenty feet deep.

The night was bitterly cold, the bank of the nullah was extremely slippery, and the boulders in the water course below coated with ice. The difficulty of getting the loaded animals across, in the darkness, was therefore very great. The passage of the various water courses caused great delays; and it was difficult to keep the column together, in the dark. At each passage, the rear was immensely delayed while the leading troops were passing; and these again had to be halted, while those behind them struggled over the difficulties. The men suffered much from cold, as the pace was so slow that they could not warm themselves; and the mounted officers specially suffered, in their hands and feet.

At midnight the ravine leading up to the Spingawi Pass was reached; but so dark was it that the 2nd Punjaubees, separated by a few yards from the regiment in front of them, marched straight on instead of turning up it; and the 22nd Pioneers, and the four artillery guns carried on elephants—being behind them—naturally went astray, also. Brigadier General Thelwall, who commanded the column, was at the head of his brigade; and was, for some time, unaware of the absence of two of his regiments but, after halting and finding that they did not come up, sent back a mounted officer who, after a two-mile ride, came up with the missing troops, and guided them back to the point where they had left the route.

From the foot of the ravine to the top of the pass is six miles in distance and, dark as it was in the open, it was still more so in the ravine, shadowed by the steep hills on either side. As the ascent continued the road became worse; the boulders being larger, and the holes and dried-up pools deeper. The darkness, and the prevailing white color of the stones, prevented the difference of level being observed; and many of the men had heavy falls, as the steep sides of these pools were often from two to four feet deep.

After marching for a mile and a half up the ravine, the report of a rifle was heard in the ranks of the 29th Punjaubees—who were leading the column—followed instantly by another discharge. Colonel Gordon—commanding the regiment—halted; and he and the general tried, in vain, to discover who had fired. No one could, or would, identify them; and this seemed clearly to prove that the rifles had been fired as a signal to the enemy, for they had not been loaded before the column started. The Punjaubee regiments contained many hill tribesmen—men closely connected, by ties of blood and religion, with the enemy whom they were marching to attack.

A non-commissioned officer and several of the men, who were just about the spot where the guns had been fired, were placed under arrest and sent back. It was afterwards found that two of their rifles had been discharged; and the men who fired, and their non-commissioned officer were tried by court martial for treachery, and were hung. After these men had been sent back, the 5th Ghoorkas, the company of Rangers, and two companies of the 72nd passed the 23rd Punjaubees, and took their places at the head of the column. In the course of the march a good many other men of the 23rd left the column, in the dark, and made their way back to camp.

It turned out, afterwards, that the Afghan sentries at the top of the pass heard the reports, and woke up the commander of the post; who, hearing no further cause of alarm, took no action in the matter. Had the traitors waited until the column was within a mile of the top of the pass, the Afghans would assuredly have taken the alarm but, firing at a distance of four and a half miles, they failed in the desired effect.

The advance was resumed, up the bed of the stream, for another mile and a half. About three in the morning the main water course was quitted, the road now entering a ravine to the left; up which, three miles further on, was the summit of the pass. The column continued its weary way up the ravine, slowly stumbling along in the dark.

One incident occurred, in this part of the road, showing the necessity, in night marching, for the regiments to keep close to each other. In one place a fir-covered island lay in the middle of the ravine, the torrent's bed lying on either side of it. When the two companies of the 72nd Highlanders—who had been following close to that of the Rangers—came to the spot, they were surprised to find that the troops in front had suddenly vanished. No explanation could be given as to the cause of this disappearance, so the company were halted until the mystery was solved.

The leading regiment had taken the passage to the right of the island, while the 72nd had gone to the left; the separation of the roads being unnoticed, in the dark. Had the roads diverged, instead of reuniting, much inconvenience might have been caused by the delay in collecting the separated portions of the force.

At last the foot of the Khotal was reached, where the track left the ravine and turned up the spur. The two guides—natives of the country, who had led the head of the column to this point—refused to go any further and, as the column was now at the point where the fighting might begin, they were allowed to depart.

It was about six o'clock when the Ghoorkas began to climb the spur. The morning had broken; but it was still dark, and the path was almost invisible in the shadow of the trees. The Ghoorkas—their rifles loaded now—made their way quietly up the hill. Presently the challenge of the sentry was heard, followed by two shots.

It was a relief to the men, after ten hours of weary stumbling along in the cold and darkness, to know that they were, at length, face to face with their foe. Cold and fatigue were at once forgotten and, with eyes strained through the darkness, and rifles ready for use, every man pressed forward. Fifty yards up the hill, behind the sentry who had fired, was the first stockade of the enemy; formed by several large trees, which had been felled so as to completely block up the road, presenting an obstacle of about eight feet high to the attacking force.

The Afghan pickets lining the stockade poured a volley into the Ghoorkas who, led by Major Fitzhugh and Captain Cook, made a rush at the place. For a few minutes there was a fierce fight at the trees but, as fresh assailants momentarily poured up, the obstruction was scaled; and the Afghans retired on a second stockade, eighty yards back. Here another stand was made but, the spur being a little wider, the Ghoorkas were able to work round and, taking the defense in flank, soon drove the Afghans back. Beyond this point the ground was clear of trees; and the road ran, in short zigzags, up the steep hill to the breastwork which lined the edge of the top zigzag. A mountain gun, at this point, swept the approach to the position; while the hill at its back was now covered with Afghans, who opened a heavy fire upon the troops as, in the dim morning light, they issued from the trees.

By the time that the Ghoorkas and the Rangers had cleared the second stockade, the wing of the 72nd Highlanders—ascending by the right flank—had made their way up to the front; and the whole now advanced together. As quickly as possible they pushed up the hill, under the heavy fire of the enemy. The latter fought well, and a number of them were killed before retiring. At the defense erected at the top of the zigzag, so obstinately did the Afghans in front hold their ground that their comrades, behind, were enabled to remove their mountain gun.

To the right of the enemy's position was a knoll, and the 72nd at once took possession of this; and two mountain guns were brought up to their assistance. The Afghans were seen, in great numbers, in the broken ground ahead. The Ghoorkas and the little body of Rangers pushed on against them. Presently the enemy gathered, and made a rush down upon them; and a desperate hand-to-hand fight took place, for a few minutes. The men were scattered among the trees, and each fought for himself.

William Gale had just reloaded his rifle when he saw Captain Herbert—who commanded his company—fall to the ground, and three Afghans spring forward to finish him. With a bound, Will reached the side of the officer. Two of the Afghans had already discharged their pieces. The third leveled and fired. So close was he that the flash almost burnt the soldier's face, and he felt a sharp pain, as if a hot iron had passed across his cheek. In an instant, he shot his assailant dead; and then, with bayonet, stood at bay as the other two Afghans rushed upon him.

Illustration: Captain Herbert saved.

They had drawn their tulwars, and slashed fiercely at him; but he kept them off with his bayonet until a Ghoorka, running up, cut down one of them with his kookerie—a heavy, sword-like knife which the Ghoorkas carry, and which they always employ in preference to the bayonet, in fighting at close quarters. The remaining Afghan at once took to flight. The 29th Punjaubees had now come into action; and the Afghans, disheartened at the loss of their position, fell back and withdrew into the woods which cover the plateau.

At half-past seven o'clock the whole force—except the elephant guns—had reached the plateau; and General Roberts was able to flash the news, of the successful capture of the enemy's first position, to Brigadier General Cobbe, who was in command of the force which was to operate direct against the Peiwar-Khotal. A rest was given the troops after their long march and, at half-past nine, they again fell in for the attack upon the pine-covered slopes in the direction of the Peiwar-Khotal. How strong were the enemy who might be lurking there, they knew not. But it was certain that he would fight obstinately and, in so dense a forest, much of the advantage gained by drill and discipline is lost.

A change was made in the order of the advance. The troops who had before led the advance, and had done the fighting, were now placed in the rear; and the 23rd Pioneers led the way, followed by the 2nd and 29th Punjaubees. The column crossed the plateau without opposition, and began the ascent towards the enemy's position in the woods. Considerable caution was needed, as no one had any knowledge of the country, and all were ignorant of the position and numbers of the enemy; who might, for aught they knew, be massing in great numbers for an attack upon the front, or one of the flanks.

The line of skirmishers entered the pine wood near the rocky hillside, and a rolling fire of musketry soon told that they were engaged, from end to end of the line. It was slow work; for fallen trees, rocks, and bushes everywhere hampered the advance. Still the skirmishing line—reinforced from behind—pushed forward steadily and, presently, cleared the Afghans off the hillside.

When the troops reached the top, they found a valley in front of them and, from the woods on the opposite side, so heavy a musketry fire was kept up that it was evident the Afghans intended to make a desperate stand here. The valley—or rather ravine—was a narrow one: fifty yards wide, at its foot; and scarce three times as much, from brow to brow. The enemy—hidden among the trees—could not be made out, except by their continual fire. They did not content themselves, however, with the mere defense of their side of the hill but, from time to time, large numbers charged down, and tried to force their way up that held by the British. Each time, however, when they attempted this, the Punjaubees drove them back with slaughter.

It was clear that the Afghans were in great numbers, for their line extended for a mile and a half along the hillside. Major Anderson of the 23rd Pioneers, after repulsing one of these attacks, led four companies to the assault of the Afghan position, and drove the enemy back for some little distance; but Major Anderson fell, and the party retired. Colonel Curry—who commanded the regiment—again led the men forward and, for a time, a hand-to-hand fight took place. For two hours the rifle contest continued, without cessation. The storm of bullets was tremendous, but no very great execution was done, on either side, both parties lying behind the shelter of trees.

So far, no advantage had been gained by the British; and General Roberts felt that, with the force under his command, it would be rash to attempt to carry so strong a position, held by a greatly superior force.

In the meantime, the attack upon the Peiwar-Khotal from the valley had commenced. Before daylight Brigadier General Cobbe, with the 5th Punjaub Infantry and the 8th Regiment, left camp; his object being to cooperate with the flank attack. The 8th Regiment moved directly towards the pass, while the 5th Punjaubees climbed one of the principal spurs between the Peiwar and Spingawi Khotals.

The ascent was extremely difficult, and it took the troops six hours to reach the summit. During the last portion of the ascent, they came under the fire of the enemy. When near the summit, Major Macqueen of the 5th Punjaubees saw, through an opening in the pine wood, the Afghan camp, with their baggage animals; which were placed, for shelter, in the glade behind the Peiwar-Khotal. Two mountain guns were at once brought up, and a fire opened upon the Afghan camp. In a few minutes the tents caught fire, the animals stampeded in all directions; and the enemy in front, seized with a panic, began rapidly to retreat.

The Afghan troops facing General Roberts' column, when they found their comrades on their right retreating, began to draw off, and the fire sensibly diminished. The movement was accelerated by the four elephant guns—which had, at length, come up—opening fire into the pine-wood forest. As the fire slackened, a reconnaissance of the hill was made by General Roberts and his staff; but the result showed that the mountain was so covered with pines, and brushwood, that it formed an almost impenetrable barrier to the advance of troops—for the growth was so thick that it was impossible to say in which direction any movement should be made. The experience gained, in the last six hours of hard fighting, had shown how difficult it was to keep command over troops scattered along a front of half a mile long, in the forest, where nothing could be seen beyond a radius of a few yards.

The general, therefore, determined to desist from the attempt to force his way direct to the top of the Peiwar-Khotal; and to march to his left and so, by menacing the Afghan line of retreat, to hasten the movement towards the rear which had evidently begun. The men were, therefore, brought back to the plateau to the east of the ravine. Here they were halted for a time, and the contents of their haversacks furnished them with a meal.

At two o'clock they again drew up on the Spingawi plateau. The 2nd Punjaub Infantry being left on the hill, to oppose the Afghans, should they again advance in that direction; the rest of the column entered the defile leading into the Hurriab valley, far in the rear of the Peiwar-Khotal. As soon as the enemy—who were still opposing the 2nd Punjaub Infantry—saw the head of the column enter the defile, they were seized with a panic lest their retreat should be cut off; and began to retreat with the greatest haste, as they had to make their way across two mountain ridges, before they could pass the spot towards which our troops were moving. The advance of the column, however, was necessarily slow; as the woods and side valleys had to be carefully examined, lest a flank attack should be made upon them.

In two hours the head of the column emerged from the forest on to the open slopes above the highest cultivated point in the Hurriab valley. It was now four o'clock. The short December day was drawing to a close. No enemy were in sight, for their line of retreat was hidden in the bed of the stream, a couple of miles further on; and no one knew where they were to be found. The troops were much exhausted with the want of rest, and with their heavy work—for they had now been marching, and fighting, for eighteen hours—and they were glad to receive the order to bivouac; although they had no tents, or food, and the cold—as might be expected on a winter day, at an elevation of over 9000 feet above the sea—began to be very severe.

A number of the nearest trees were felled by the pioneers, and huge fires were soon alight. There was still some uneasiness, as no one knew where the force under General Cobbe was, or whether the attack on the Peiwar-Khotal had been successful or not.

While the 5th Punjaub Infantry had been mounting the spur, halfway between the Peiwar and the Spingawi Khotal, the 8th Regiment had moved directly upon the pass. The Afghans, who had expected an attack, had remained under arms until three in the morning when, hearing no sounds in our camp, they had been dismissed to rest.

Three guns of the Royal Artillery, and two of the Royal Horse Artillery took up their post 800 yards in front of our camp; where their fire, at the crest of the pass, would assist the advance of the 8th. These, after two hours' march, found themselves at seven in the morning on the last spur, which is separated from the Peiwar-Khotal by a deep ravine. When it became daylight, a few minutes later, the enemy caught sight of our artillery in the valley, and at once opened fire. Although they had six field pieces at the top of the hill, only three had been placed in position to command the valley and the ascent; and the mountain battery, which had arrived the afternoon before, was not brought to the front.

The three field pieces, and the mountain gun on the spur kept up a continuous fire on our battery, of five guns. These were, however, almost beyond their range, and but little damage was done. On our side, the fire was chiefly directed against the mountain gun, at the end of the spur; and at any bodies of men who showed themselves. The artillery duel went on for four hours and, in the meantime, the infantry were engaged sharply with the Afghans. These had taken up their position in the woods, on the other side of the ravine; and kept up a continuous fire upon the 8th. The distance, however, was too great for much execution on either side, especially as both parties were sheltered in the woods.

About ten o'clock the Afghans were seen gathering in strength, as if to come down across the road leading up to the Khotal, to attack the 8th in the rear. A squadron of the 18th Bengal Cavalry charged up the valley, and the enemy retired up the hill again and, seeing that they could not cross the road, without the chance of being cut up by the cavalry, they did not try to repeat the experiment.

At eleven o'clock Brigadier General Cobbe was wounded in the leg, and Colonel Barry-Drew succeeded him in the command; receiving the orders which had been given to General Cobbe—that the Khotal was not to be attacked, till there was some evidence that the flank attack had shaken the enemy's defense, in front.

At twelve o'clock the guns, with the 2nd Punjaub Infantry, alarmed the Afghans by their fire upon the camp and, although the Afghan guns in front kept up their fire, the musketry fire decreased considerably. Seeing this, Colonel Drew ordered the artillery to be brought up nearer. When—after advancing 300 yards—they came to a ravine crossing the road, the Afghans—who had come down the hill to meet them—opened a heavy fire and, the road being narrow, only the leading gun could come into action. However, the two companies of the 8th—which were acting as an escort to the guns—advanced in skirmishing order, and drove the Afghans up the hill.

The panic among the Afghans on the plateau having now spread to the troops at the Khotal, their fire entirely ceased; and the 8th Regiment descended the defile, and began to climb the path to the Khotal. Not a hostile shot was fired and, at half-past two, they reached the enemy's camp, which they found deserted.



Chapter 11: A Prisoner.

The panic which had seized the Afghans, when they found their retreat menaced, had been thorough and complete and, when the 8th Regiment entered the camp, they found that the tents were standing. Food had been left, ready cooked, and every possession had been abandoned. In the artillery camp, the gunners had left their silver-mounted brass helmets and caps, as well as their guns and carriages. A body of friendly Turis had accompanied the column, making a demonstration on its flank; and these, arriving upon the spot, plundered the Afghan camp of everything of the smallest value.

No one knew what had become of the main body, under General Roberts. The Bengal Cavalry scouted for some distance in advance, but found no signs of the enemy. Strong pickets were set, in case the Afghans should rally and return. The tents were brought up from the camp below, fires were lit, and the 8th encamped for the night.

In the morning, communication was established between the two camps and, it having been ascertained that the enemy had fled, in the greatest disorder, towards the Shatur-Gardan Pass leading down to Cabul, there was no prospect of further fighting. The Afghans had abandoned all their guns, and even thrown away a great quantity of muskets, in their rapid retreats. Great stores of flour and other provisions were discovered, in the various villages, and were divided among the troops.

The winter was now setting in, and the Shatur-Gardan Pass might, any moment, be closed by deep snow. There was, therefore, no prospect of a renewal of hostilities before the spring. Preparations were made for putting a regiment on the top of the Khotal. The rest of the force were to winter at Khuram. General Roberts, with an escort of cavalry, rode to the Shatur-Gardan Pass, and assured himself that the whole of the Afghan army had fled beyond this point.

The troops were, for some time, kept hard at work lowering the captured guns and ammunition down to the valley. A portion of the troops advanced as far as Ali-Kheyl, the principal town of the plateau. The Jajis—the inhabitants of the country—had hitherto been extremely hostile but, cowed by the defeat of the Afghans, they submitted without resistance.

On the 12th, all the preparations for the return were complete. It was known that there was another pass from Ali-Kheyl into the Khuram valley, by the south. This had never been explored by any European; but General Roberts determined to return by it, with a portion of his force, as the pass might be found valuable in future operations. The force detailed for the march through the Sappir defile was composed of the 8th Ghoorkas, a wing of the 72nd Highlanders, a company of the Norfolk Rangers, the 23rd Punjaub Pioneers, and a mountain battery.

The country through which the march was to be made was inhabited by the Mongals, a turbulent robber tribe. The column marched at nine in the morning and, after their down march, arrived at the village of Sappir at midday. The road lay down the Hurriab river, till the Khuram river was reached; and then along the right bank, passing through the village of Kermana; after which it turned up a narrow road, for two miles, till an open plateau was reached, at the farther end of which stood the village of Sappir. It was reported, here, that the Mongals intended to defend a defile and hill pass, two miles farther on. The 23rd Pioneers were therefore pushed on, to occupy the pass and bivouac there. The remainder of the troops camped in the village.

No signs of the enemy were seen, either by the 23rd Pioneers or in the vicinity of the camp. The troops were to march at three in the morning, and the tents were struck an hour after midnight. The track up the pass was excessively steep, and very difficult for the camels. The cold was bitter and, in places where water had crossed the road, there were slippery surfaces of ice—which hindered the camels considerably—and it was past eight o'clock before the rear guard arrived at the top of the pass. From a commanding position, overlooking the defile and surrounding waste of rugged and barren mountains, not an enemy could be seen; and it was hoped that the report of the intended attack was a false one.

The troops now began to descend the defile, which was known as the Manjiar Pass. Troublesome as the ascent had been, the descent was infinitely more so; and it was with difficulty that the camels could be made to go down the deep and slippery roads. The gorge was five miles in length. The track, for the first part, ran through a deep ravine of perpendicular walls; which narrowed in places to a few yards, overhanging the path until they seemed to meet, and form a tunnel, through which it ran. Had an attack been made on the column, as it struggled with its difficulties through this portion of the pass, the result would have been disastrous; for it would have been impossible to place troops on the heights, to cover the advance. Here and there side ravines broke into the road, in any of which ambushes might have been laid.

It was not, however, until the difficult part of the road had been passed, and a comparatively open valley reached, that any of the natives were seen. Then a few men were observed on the heights but, as they were supposed to be shepherds, no notice was taken of them. Believing that all danger of attack was now over, the general ordered all the troops—with the exception of the baggage guard, which was composed of the 3rd Ghoorkas, and a few of the 72nd Highlanders and Norfolk Rangers—to march forward to the camp; which was to be pitched at a village called Keraiah, in the open valley.

This, as the result proved, was a very rash move. Before the head of the column had extricated itself from the ravine, numbers of the country people were seen collecting, in small detached parties. By degrees they closed in, and were soon within fifty yards of the convoy. Captain Goad—in charge of the baggage—was close to a small guard of 72nd Highlanders when, suddenly, a volley was fired by the Mongals.

Captain Goad fell, his thigh bone broken by a bullet. Sergeant Green, with three privates of the 72nd, picked him up and, having placed him under cover of a rock, turned to defend themselves. They were but four men against a large number; but they stood steady and, firing with careful aim, and picking off their man each time, they kept the enemy at bay until help arrived.

Simultaneously, all along the line of the baggage column, the Mongals attacked. From the heights on both sides a fire was kept up, while the more daring swept down in parties upon the rear guard of Ghoorkas, commanded by Captain Powell. The baggage guard all behaved with great steadiness; defending the path on both sides, while the baggage animals continued their way along it.

William Gale was on duty with the party; and was, like the rest, busy with his rifle. A sergeant next to him was hit in the leg; and Will—laying down his rifle—stopped one of the camels, and assisted the wounded man to mount it. The attack of the Mongals became more furious, as they saw their anticipated prey escaping them, in spite of all their efforts; but their attempts to close were in vain, and the convoy made its way down to the village; with the loss of one killed, and two officers, and eight men wounded. Captain Powell and Captain Goad both died, from the effects of their injuries. The enemy's loss must have been considerable, as the fire of the troop was steady and accurate, and the distance small.

After a halt, for a day or two, the column marched to Khuram, where it encamped. Captain Herbert had reported to the colonel the manner in which Private Gale had defended him, when wounded and attacked by three Afghans; the incident, too, had been observed by many of his comrades and, as a reward, the young soldier was promoted to the rank of corporal; and the colonel told him that, had not similar acts of bravery been performed in the hand-to-hand action, on the Spingawi-Khotal, he would have been mentioned for the Victoria Cross.

The mountain tops were now deep in snow; but in the valley the temperature was very agreeable, and the troops enjoyed their rest much. This was not, however, to be of long duration. From the lower end of the Khuram valley runs off another valley, known as the "Khost." This was an entirely unknown country to the Europeans, but it was said to be extremely hostile. Parties had come down and carried off cattle and, at any time, a formidable raid might have taken place, and our line of communication been entirely cut.

The country was ruled by an Afghan governor, who sent in to say that he was willing to hand it over to us. There was, therefore, no expectation that there would be any resistance; and the expedition was designed rather to overawe the country, and to obtain information as to its extent and capabilities, than with any idea of permanent occupation. The column consisted of a squadron of the 10th Hussars, the 5th Bengal Cavalry, the 21st and 28th Punjaub Infantry, two mountain batteries, a wing of the 72nd Highlanders, and two companies of the Norfolk Rangers. This force marched from Hazir-pir, and halted for the night at Jaji-Midan, at the head of the valley leading to the Darwiza Pass, through which the track runs into the Khost valley.

At eight o'clock next morning, the troops moved forward. The ground was difficult, for the road ran between terraced fields on the side of the ravine, and obliged men and animals to pass in single file. It was not, therefore, until twelve o'clock that the rear guard moved out of the camp. Beyond this point, the road up the pass was not difficult. From the summit, a wide view was obtained. At the end of the valley—six miles distant—the plain of the Khost country was seen. It was seen that—owing to the slow progress the troops were making—the baggage train, consisting of 1000 camels, would not be able to reach the proposed camping ground, at the lower end of the valley, before dark. The general, therefore, ordered it to halt at the top of the pass, where the ground was open. The 21st Punjaubees, and a mountain battery, were to stay there for its protection; and bring it on, next day. The mules, with the regimental baggage, went on with the troops.

The column met with no opposition. It halted near the village of Bakh, half a mile from the foot of the hills; where the valley widened into a plain, six miles long and four broad. The force encamped here on the 4th, to allow the convoy to come up. The following morning the column marched to the other end of the valley; and the next day the Afghan governor of Matun—the chief place of the Khost—rode in to welcome the general.

On the 6th of January the force marched to Matun. They found that this fort was a square-walled enclosure, 100 yards each side, with circular corner bastions. There was a central square enclosure, with round towers at its angles. As the fort was approached, its garrison—which consisted of 100 local militia—were formed up, in two lines, at a mosque outside the fort. The general with his staff rode in, and a long interview took place between him and the governor. The troops encamped outside.

In the evening information came in, from the villages in the plain, that large numbers of the Mongals—who inhabited the hills—were meditating an attack. Strong pickets were posted, and the night passed quietly. In the morning large numbers of tribesmen flocked down into the villages, and gradually surrounded the camp.

At one o'clock the troops fell in. The cavalry were sent out against the enemy in the northwest direction, followed by the 28th Punjaubees and Number 2 mounted battery. The Mongals at once fell back to the hills.

The squadron of the 10th Hussars were dismounted, and ordered to skirmish up a small knoll to the west. From this they drove the enemy, who gathered again on a spur opposite. Here they were charged by the 5th Punjaub Cavalry, and fell back higher up the ridge. The mountain guns and infantry now arrived, and speedily drove them over the crest.

General Roberts, with his staff, rode out to watch the skirmish; and soon after he had left the enemy, who occupied the village to the northeast, showed in force. Two of the mountain guns opened upon them.

On the south they now approached, under the cover of the old Afghan cavalry lines, to within half a mile before being perceived; and also occupied a walled village there. The other two guns in camp shelled the village, and soon drove the enemy out.

When the general returned to camp, at half-past two, he found the attack driven off in all directions; and ordered the 21st Punjaubees, the 72nd Highlanders, and the Norfolk Rangers to follow up the enemy to the east and southeast, with the mountain guns; and to burn the villages which had sheltered the enemy. The first village was found deserted. At another, a quarter of a mile behind, the enemy made a stand; but were shelled out, and the plain beyond the Matun river was soon covered with fugitives. Major Stewart—with forty men of the 5th Punjaub Cavalry, who accompanied the column—charged 400 of them, and cut down many; until checked by the heavy fire of matchlock men from the high bank.

No more fighting took place. The combination of tribes which had attacked the camp were estimated at 6000 men. Eighty prisoners were taken. These, two nights afterwards, took advantage of a night alarm to attempt to escape, and attacked the guard. The attempt, however, was frustrated; but only after several of the prisoners had been shot down.

Some days passed, quietly. Reconnaissances were made up the valley. While waiting here, the news of the capture of Candahar, by General Stewart, arrived. Parties of engineers surveyed the country, and all passed off quietly.

On the 25th, a portion of the force marched back to Hazir-pir On the 26th of January the general determined to withdraw this force altogether; as no advantage was gained by its retention, and the garrison would be constantly exposed to the attacks of the natives, who were already threatening it. The fort was handed over to Sultan Jan, a man of good family, who was appointed to govern the Khost, temporarily. He had under him the guard of the former governor, and some fresh natives; being, in all, 300 men. The headmen of the villages were called together, and these promised to obey his rule.

Some of the chiefs of the Mongals, and other neighboring tribes, came in. Sheep were given to them, and they were told that, so long as they desisted from interference in the valley, no steps would be taken against them. The troops, however, had only made one day's march when a messenger arrived from Sultan Jan; saying that, immediately the troops had marched, the Mongals had come down to attack the fort. A strong party were therefore marched back at once. After destroying the stores, and setting fire to the fort, they drew off the governor and marched back to camp; the Mongals, although in great force, not venturing to offer any resistance.

On the return of the force to the Khuram valley, a wing of the Norfolk Rangers was sent up to reinforce the troops stationed on the top of the Peiwar-Khotal; as the Jajis and Mongals had been gathering in large numbers, and threatening an attack on that post.

William Gale was, with his company, stationed at Ali-Kheyl. The enemy abstained from any open attack, but they often harassed the sentries. One night, Will was corporal in charge of a picket of eight men, posted at a hut half a mile from the village. The object of the picket was to prevent any sudden attack being made upon the company; who were in a small village, a quarter of a mile in the rear, where a large quantity of grain was stored. Two men were posted as sentries, some hundred yards in advance of the hut.

Will had visited the sentry to the right and, finding all was well, here, moved across to the left.

"Is everything quiet?" he asked the sentry.

"I don't know, corporal. Two or three times I have thought that I heard noises, and twice I have challenged."

"What sort of noise?"

"Once it seemed to be a crack, like a dried stick when some one treads on it. The other time it was as if a stone had been dislodged."

"I will wait with you," Will said. "Two pairs of ears are better than one."

Again there was a slight sound heard.

"I don't like to fire," Will said. "The alarm would spread, and the whole camp get under arms. There is something moving, I am convinced; but it may be only a stray bullock. I will go forward, and see if I can make it out; and do you stand ready to fire, if I am attacked.

"After doing so, fall back on the picket, at once. If the enemy are in force, hold the hut to the last. In ten minutes you will have help from the village, behind."

Holding his rifle advanced, in readiness to fire, William Gale made his way forward, cautiously, towards the spot whence the noise seemed to proceed. When he was some forty yards in advance of the sentry, a number of figures rose suddenly from some bushes, and fired. Will fired, and saw the man at whom he aimed go down but, at the same instant, three or four guns were discharged; and he fell to the ground, shot through the leg. There was a rush of men towards him. A tulwar was waved, and fell, with a crushing blow, on his shoulder; and he became insensible.

When he recovered consciousness he was being carried along, a man holding his arms and another his legs. The pain was excruciating, and he fainted again; after hearing, during his brief period of consciousness, a sharp fusilade of musketry, which told him that his comrades were defending the hut against the enemy.

When again he came to his senses, it was daylight. He was lying in a small room, and an old woman was applying bandages to the sword cut on his shoulder. Although he did not know it, he was ten miles from the spot where the attack had been made.

Among those who had taken part in it was the head of a small Jaji village, lying behind the hills. This chief was a crafty old savage, who had been desirous of remaining neutral in the strife. The determination of his people to join in the attack, by the tribes, had forced him to consent to their so doing. Before starting he had, however, made them swear that any wounded men who fell into their hands should not—in accordance with the Afghan custom—be instantly despatched; but should be brought back to the village.

His intention was to have some hostages. If the English repulsed the attack and, in the spring, again advanced; he would be able to prove his goodwill to the cause, by handing the soldiers whom he had protected over to them. Upon the other hand, should the British fall back and the Afghans advance in the spring, he could hand the prisoners over to them, or send them down to Cabul, as a proof that his people had fought against the British. He had himself accompanied his men and, seeing after Will had fallen that he was still living, had at once ordered two of his men to carry him off to the village.

The attack upon the guard house proved unsuccessful. The six soldiers defended themselves until the company from the village, behind, came up to the rescue. Several other attacks, at various points, took place. But the British were on the alert; and the hillsmen, finding that their enemies were not to be taken by surprise, scattered again to the village.

The ball had fortunately passed through William Gale's leg, without either breaking a bone or cutting an artery; but the wound in the shoulder was more serious, and the effect of the strain upon it, in carrying him, brought on violent inflammation. Fever set in with delirium and, for weeks, the lad lay between life and death.

The old woman who nursed him was, like most of her country people, skilled in the treatment of wounds. The bandages were kept bathed with water, snow was constantly applied to his head, and a decoction of herbs given him to drink. His good constitution was in his favor and, at last, he recovered his senses; to find himself convalescent, but as weak as an infant.

In April the snow melted; and the chief, having by this time found that the English were not likely to advance beyond Ali-Kheyl, thought that it would best benefit his interest to send his prisoner down to Cabul. The Ameer was reported to be about to conclude peace with the British; and the chief thought that he was more likely to receive a reward, from him, for the care he had bestowed upon the prisoner, than from the English. Moreover, it would have been difficult to send him into the English camp, through the hostile villages; while no unfavorable comment would be incited, by his sending his prisoner down to Cabul.

Will Gale was far too weak to perform the journey on foot. He was, therefore, placed on a camel. The chief himself, and four of his headmen, accompanied him as an escort and, a week after the pass was open, they started up the valley to the Shatur-Gardan; and thence descended into the Logan Valley, below, on the way to Cabul.



Chapter 12: The Advance Up The Khyber.

Nothing has yet been said of the doings of the other columns: that under General Browne advancing, by the Khyber Pass, upon Jellalabad; that under General Stewart, by the Bolan Pass, upon Candahar.

General Browne's force had been gathered at the frontier line, at the mouth of the pass, awaiting the reply of the Ameer to the British ultimatum. None having been received, up to the night of the 20th of November, the advance took place in the morning; at the same hour at which General Roberts advanced from Thull in the Khurum valley.

The principal defense of the Khyber Pass was the fort Ali-Musjid. This fort stands on a most commanding position, on a rock jutting out from the hillside far into the valley, which its guns commanded. It was flanked by batteries erected on the hillsides, and was a most formidable position to capture. It was situated about six miles up the valley.

The force under General Browne was divided into four brigades. The first—under General Macpherson—consisted of the 4th battalion of the Rifle Brigade, the 20th Bengal Infantry, the 4th Ghoorkas, and a mountain battery. These were ordered to take a mountain road and—led by a native guide—to make a long circuit, and so to come down into the pass at a village lying a mile or two beyond Ali-Musjid.

The second brigade—under Colonel Tytler—consisting of the 1st battalion of the 17th Foot, the infantry of the Guides, the 1st Sikhs, and a mountain battery, were also to take to the hills and, working along on their crests, to come down upon the batteries which the Afghans had erected on the hillside opposite to Ali-Musjid.

The third brigade, consisting of the 81st Regiment, the 14th Sikhs, and the 24th Native Infantry; and the fourth brigade, composed of the 51st Regiment, 6th Native Infantry, and the 45th Sikhs, were to advance straight up the valley. With them was a mountain battery, a battery of Horse Artillery, one of Royal Artillery, and a battery of 40-pounders, drawn by elephants.

These brigades marched forward until they reached some rising ground in the valley, whence they could see Ali-Musjid, at a distance of a mile and a half, in front of them. The enemy at once opened fire. The gunners in the fort had been practising for some weeks, and had got the range with great accuracy; and their shot and shell fell thick along the slope. The column was therefore marched back behind its crest, and there halted; and the men were allowed to fall out and eat their dinners, as it was desired that the flanking columns of Macpherson and Tytler—which had very much further to go—should reach the positions assigned to them before the attack began.

The artillery, however, took up their position on the crest, and opened fire on the fort. The effect of the light guns was but slight, but the 40-pounders produced considerable effect on the face of the fort.

After a halt for some time, the troops were ordered to advance. The 45th Sikhs were first thrown out upon the hillside and, working their way along on the right of the valley, opened a heavy musketry fire against the Afghans in the batteries there. Presently the 51st and 6th Native Infantry joined them; while the 81st, the 24th, and 14th Sikhs worked along on the left.

The scene was one of the most picturesque ever witnessed in warfare. From the fortress, standing on the perpendicular rock in the center of the valley, the flashes of the great guns came fast and steadily; while the edges of the rock, and fort, were fringed with tiny puffs of musketry. From the rising ground in the valley, the smoke of the British guns rose up in the still air as, steadily and fast, they replied to the fire of the fort. Both sides of the steep hill slopes were lined with British infantry—the quick flash of the rifles spurting out from every rock and bush; while continuous lines of light smoke rose from the Afghan entrenchments which faced them.

Gradually the British skirmishers advanced, until they were close to the Afghan entrenchments on the hillsides abreast of the fort. So far, there was no sign that Macpherson's brigade had reached the post assigned to it, high up on the hill; or that Tytler had worked round to the village in the enemy's rear. Some attacks which were made upon the Afghans were repulsed, with loss. Major Birch and Lieutenant Fitzgerald were killed, and Captain Maclean wounded; and between thirty and forty of the rank and file were killed, or wounded. As the fort and its defenses could not have been carried by direct attack, without immense loss of life; it was determined to cease operations until morning, in order to give the flanking columns time to reach the positions assigned to them. A wing of a regiment, from each brigade, was ordered to remain on the hillside facing the Afghan entrenchments. The rest of the troops fell back a short distance, and lay down as they were, for the night.

In the meantime, the brigades of Macpherson and Tytler had encountered enormous difficulties on the line of march. The roads they had taken were mere tracks, and there were many places where it was almost impossible to get the mountain guns along. From daybreak until late at night the troops labored, unceasingly. They knew, by the dull roar echoed and re-echoed among the mountains, that their comrades below were engaged; and the thought that a failure might ensue, owing to their absence from the contest, nerved them to continued exertions.

Late at night, however, Macpherson with his brigade arrived on the top of the hill facing Ali-Musjid; and Tytler, with his column, came down into the Khyber valley in rear of the fort. But, though unopposed, their march had not been unnoticed and, late in the evening, the news reached the Afghans that the British were marching down into the valley behind them. A wild panic instantly seized them. Clothes, ammunition, guns, everything that could impede their flight were thrown away; and the garrison of Ali-Musjid, and the Afghans in the hillside entrenchments fled, a herd of frightened fugitives, up the valley. Hasty as was their retreat, they were not in time. Tytler, with his column, debouched into the valley before they had passed the spot where the mountain path descended into it; and large numbers were taken prisoners.

As at the Peiwar-Khotal, the Afghans proved themselves capable of defending a strong position, valiantly; but were converted into a mob of panic-stricken fugitives, by their line of retreat being threatened. A European army, under like circumstances, would have fallen back in good order. Their force was amply sufficient to have swept aside the little column which barred their retreat, and they would have occupied a fresh position farther to the rear, and renewed the conflict. Not so the Afghans. The capture of Ali-Musjid brought with it the entire demoralization of the Afghan army which, a few hours before, had been fully confident in its power to repulse any attack which might be made upon it.

The British continued their advance, passed through the Khyber Pass, and entered the broad valley near whose head stands the town of Jellalabad. Beyond a few shots, fired at them by tribesmen high up on the mountain side, they experienced no opposition, whatever and, a week after the fight in the Khyber, entered Jellalabad and encamped around it.

Further than this it was not intended to go, for the present. Winter was now close at hand. Between Jellalabad and Cabul were a series of most difficult passes. An army advancing up them would have immense difficulty to encounter, and might find itself cut off from India by the snows. In the Jellalabad valley the weather is mild, large stores of provisions were obtainable, and here it was determined to remain, through the winter; and to recommence the campaign, in the spring, with the advantage of the Khyber Pass—one of the keys of Afghanistan—being in our hands.

But a day or two after reaching Jellalabad—having defeated and dispersed one of the two Afghan armies—the news arrived of the capture of the Peiwar-Khotal—the second key of Afghanistan—and the utter rout of the army defending it. Thus, in little more than a week after the commencement of the campaign Sheer-Ali, the Ameer, saw the entire overthrow of the army which he had, for so many years, been occupied in organizing and training. The positions which he had deemed impregnable had both been taken, after a single day's fighting; and his capital lay virtually at the mercy of his conquerors. In one short week, his hopes and plans had been scattered to the winds.

Sheer-Ali was not wholly to be blamed. He had for many years received an annual present of money and arms, from the British government; but upon the other hand, he saw Russia marching with giant steps towards his northern frontier and, contrasting the energy and enterprise of the great northern power, with the inactivity which he may have supposed to prevail among the men who governed England, he became more and more anxious; and asked the English definitely to state whether he could rely upon them for assistance, should he be attacked by the Russians.

He received a reply from the Duke of Argyle—the British minister for India—of a doubtful nature, couched in terms which seem to have aroused his resentment. From this moment, there can be no doubt that the Ameer's course was decided upon. He was between the hammer and the anvil and, as he could obtain no guarantee of assistance from England, he determined to throw himself into the arms of Russia.

Letters were exchanged between him and General Kaufmann—the Russian viceroy in Turkestan—and the latter gave him the warmest promises of support, if he would ally himself with Russia. Although he had, for years, declined to accept a British resident at Cabul, or to allow Englishmen to enter the country; he now, believing in the power and willingness of Russia to help, received the visit of a Russian general and staff, at Cabul.

Unfortunately for the Ameer, the government of England had now changed hands; and the ministry at once sent to Sheer-Ali, to demand that he should receive a British resident. It was late in the year, and the Ameer—acting, no doubt, on the advice of his Russian friends—sought to gain time by evasive answers. The British government—who saw through the ruse—ordered the envoy to advance, with a strong escort. This obliged the Ameer to come to a final decision; and the die was cast by the escort being stopped, by force, on its arrival at Ali-Musjid.

There is no doubt that the Ameer, and his friends, calculated that it was already too late in the season for the English to gather a sufficient force, on the frontier, to force the passes held by the Afghan army before the snows. The promptness of action of the English government, the valor of their troops, and the unusually late setting in of the winter combined to overthrow the Ameer's plans. Had the campaign been delayed till the spring, there can be little doubt that the British, in their advance, would have found themselves opposed—if not by a Russian army—at least by an army led and officered by Russians, with Russian engineers and artillerymen. The promptness of their advance, and the capture of the passes and the dispersion of the Afghan armies, within a week of the opening of the campaign, altogether altered this position.

Sheer-Ali found himself a king without an army. The plains of Cabul were thronged with the panic-stricken fugitives from the Khyber and Peiwar; and Sheer-Ali started at night from his capital with his Russian friends, and made for the north; sending letter after letter ahead of him to General Kaufmann, imploring the promised aid of Russia. The rapid course of events, however, had entirely disconcerted the Russian plans.

In the spring, a Russian army might have advanced and cooperated with that of the Ameer; but the winter had set in, the distance was immense, and the Russians unprepared for instant action. The appeals of the unfortunate prince were responded to with vague generalities. He was no longer a powerful ally, but a broken instrument and, heartbroken with disappointment and failure, the unfortunate Sheer-Ali was seized by fever and died, in an obscure village, almost alone and wholly uncared for.

His son Yakoob Khan—who had, in his youth, proved himself a brave and able soldier; but who, having incurred his father's displeasure, had been for years confined as a prisoner at Herat—was now liberated, and took his place as his father's successor. He saw at once that, with a broken and disorganized army, he could not hope to resist the advance of the three British armies which, coming from Jellalabad, from the heights of the Shatur-Gardan, and from Candahar, would simultaneously advance upon his capital, as soon as the snows melted. He therefore opened negotiations and, early in May, himself descended from Cabul and had an interview with General Browne, at Gundamuk; when the preliminaries of peace were arranged, and signed.

The terms insisted upon by the British were not onerous. Yakoob was recognized as the Ameer of Afghanistan, the annual subsidy paid to his father was to be continued. The Khyber Pass and the Khurum valley, as far as the Peiwar-Khotal, were to remain in the hands of the British; and a British minister was to be stationed at Cabul. When peace had been signed, the greater portion of the British army retired to India; and the Khurum column, leaving two or three regiments in that valley, also fell back.

While the first and second divisions had been gaining victories in the Khyber and Khurum valleys, the column under General Stewart had met with difficulties of another kind. Between the Indus, and the foot of the range of mountains through which the Bolan Pass leads to the lofty plateau land above, a great waste of sand stretches. In the wet season, this tract of country is overflowed by the Indus. In the dry season it is a parched and bare desert, with its wells few and far apart. There were great difficulties met with in crossing this inhospitable plain, and the losses among the baggage animals were great; but the labors up to this point were as nothing, to those which had to be undergone on the way up the Bolan Pass.

This pass—whose ascent occupies three days—is in fact the mere bed of a stream, covered deeply with boulders and stones of all sizes, in which the baggage and artillery horses sank fetlock deep. The difficulties encountered were enormous, and vast numbers of camels, horses, and bullocks died by the way. Even with a double complement of horses, it was almost impossible to drag the guns up the deep, shingly pass; and great delays were experienced, before the force intended for operations against Candahar were assembled, at Quettah. So far, the advance had taken place through British territory, as Quettah has long been occupied by us.

When the advance began, it was rapid. No opposition was experienced by the way, until the column arrived within a few hours' march of Candahar; and then the enemy's attack was feeble, and easily repulsed. On the 9th of January, General Stewart entered the city.

Candahar, though not the capital, is the chief town of Afghanistan. It stands in a slightly undulating plain; and was, at one time, a city of great importance and wealth. Its position is the most important in Afghanistan. It bars the road to an enemy advancing from the north, through Herat; and threatens the flank and rear of one advancing against India, through Cabul. The country around is extremely fertile and, were irrigation properly used, and a railway constructed to India, Candahar and the surrounding country would again become one of the gardens of the world.

The authorities of the city made their submission, as the column approached it, and the army settled down to quiet occupation; broken only by isolated attacks, upon individual soldiers, by fanatical Ghazis. When peace was concluded, one of the conditions distinctly insisted upon by the British general, and agreed to by the Ameer, was that Candahar should remain in our possession. The alleged advantage thus gained, and the territory thus acquired, were afterwards abandoned by the British government succeeding that which had so vigorously carried out the war.

The occupation of Candahar by the British had been insisted on, at first, on the ground that, if Russia should make an advance against India, the British nation would have ample cause to rue the cession of Candahar; for it was declared that with this city strongly fortified, and surrounded by outlying works, 10,000 British troops there could arrest the progress of an invading army, however large, until England had had full time to put forth all her strength, and to assemble an army amply sufficient to secure the safety of the most valuable of our possessions—the empire of India.

It was said that, whatever allies Russia might have prepared for herself, by intrigues among the princes of India, these would not think of moving, so long as they knew that the fortress of Candahar remained as a British bulwark against an invading force. It was represented that, so long as this place held out, England would be able to devote her whole force towards repelling the foreign invader—instead of being obliged, simultaneously, to oppose him and to put down a formidable rising in India, itself.

It was, however, not the universal opinion that the best policy of England was to occupy this territory by an armed force; and subsequent events, with the change of government in England, led to a different determination.



Chapter 13: The Massacre At Cabul.

At each village through which William Gale and his escort passed, the inhabitants turned out, and hooted and yelled at the prisoner; and it was with the greatest difficulty that the chief protected him from personal violence. William himself was scarce conscious of what was passing. The swinging action of the camel added to his great weakness, and he would not have been able to keep his seat on its back, had not his captors fastened him with ropes to the saddle. Although the snow had only just melted on the Shatur-Gardan Pass, in the valleys below the heat of the sun was already great and, often as it poured down upon him, he lapsed into a state of semi-consciousness; and drowsily fancied that he was again in his canoe, tossing on the tiny waves, in the shelter of the reef.

On the sixth day after the start, a shout from his guard aroused him, as they emerged from a steep ascent amongst some hills. Before him an undulating ground, dotted with villages, stretched for three or four miles. At the foot of some steep hills, to the left of a wide valley, was a large walled town which he knew to be Cabul. On the hillside above it was a strong building: half fort, half palace. This was the Bala-Hissar, the abode of the Ameer, and the fortress of Cabul. In addition to the king's residence it contained barracks, store houses, magazines, and many residences. Towards this the cavalcade made its way.

They halted two miles from the town, and the chief sent his son forward to the Ameer, to inform him that he had brought in an English prisoner; and to request that an escort might be sent out, lest he should be killed by the people on approaching the town. An hour after the man had left, a troop of cavalry sallied out from the gate of the Bala-Hissar, and rode rapidly to the spot where the party had halted. Surrounding the camel on which William Gale was mounted, they conducted it to the fortress.

Illustration: William Gale in the hands of the Afghans.

When he was lifted down from his camel, Will was unable to stand. Fever had set in again, and he was conveyed to an apartment in a house near the royal residence. The Ameer was already negotiating with the British, and orders were consequently given that the prisoner should receive every attention. The king's own doctor was ordered to attend him, and two attendants were told off to take charge of him. The old chief received a recompense, for the care which he had taken of the prisoner, which fully answered to his expectations; and he returned home well satisfied with the success of his policy.

For weeks, Will lay between life and death; and he was a mere skeleton when, two months after his arrival, he was able for the first time to sit up at the window, and look across the valley. Very gradually, he recovered strength. He was well supplied with food, and especially enjoyed the delicious fruits for which Cabul is celebrated.

His attendants were a old man and his son, the latter a lad of some fifteen years of age. The father did his duty, because ordered to do so; but his scowling face often showed the hatred which he felt of the Kaffir. The lad, however, took kindly to his patient. He it was who for hours together would, while Will was at his worst, sit by his bedside, constantly changing the wet cloths wrapped round his head, and sometimes squeezing a few drops of the refreshing juice of some fruit between his parched lips; and as his patient turned the corner and became slowly convalescent, his pleasure over the life he had saved, by his care, was very great.

Like most soldiers in the expeditionary force, Will had picked up a few words of Afghan; and had greatly increased his stock, during the time he lay in the hut in the mountains. Alone now all day with the boy, with nothing to do but to look out on the town below, and the wide valley beyond, he made rapid progress; and was, by the time he was strong enough to walk alone across the room, able to hold some sort of conversation with his friend—for so he had come to regard his devoted attendant.

One morning the boy came into the room in a state of great excitement.

"English officers are coming," he said, "with soldiers."

"But I thought it was peace," Will exclaimed, delighted. "You told me peace had been signed, at Gundamuk, two months ago."

"Yes, it is peace," the boy said. "The officers are coming in friendship, to be here with the Ameer."

Will was greatly moved at the news. When he had heard, six weeks before, that peace was signed, he had begun to hope that, some day or other, he should again be able to return to India; but the news, that some of his countrymen were close at hand, almost overcame him.

The next day, which was the 24th of July—although Will had lost all account of time—he saw vast numbers of people out on the plain; and presently, far away, he beheld a large body of horsemen. These, the lad told him, were the Ameer and his bodyguard, accompanied by the English officers. Cannon were fired in salute, and the garrison of the Bala-Hissar stood to their arms and, presently, Will saw a cavalcade riding up from the gate of the fortress. First came some Afghan cavalry; then rode a tall and stately man, whom the boy told him was the Ameer. But Will had no eyes for him. All his thoughts were centered on the white officer who rode beside him: Major Sir Lewis Cavagnari, the English envoy. Behind, among the chiefs of the Ameer's suite, rode two or three other English officers; and then came a detachment of some twenty-five cavalry, and fifty infantry of the Guides, a frontier force consisting of picked men.

As they passed near his window, Will stood up with his hand to his forehead, in salute. Major Cavagnari looked up in surprise, and spoke to the Ameer. The latter said a few words in reply, and then the cavalcade rode on to the palace. Ten minutes later two of the Ameer's attendants entered, and told Will to follow them.

He had that morning, for the first time since his arrival in Cabul, put on his uniform. He was still very weak but, leaning one hand upon his attendant's shoulder, he followed the messengers. He was conducted to a large room in the palace, where the Ameer and his adviser, and the British officers were sitting.

"Well, my lad," Major Cavagnari said, kindly, "I hear you have had a bad time of it. The Ameer tells me that you were taken prisoner near Ali-Kheyl, that you were badly wounded, and that after the snow melted you were brought down here. He says he gave orders that everything should be done for you, but that you have been very ill, ever since."

"I have been treated very kindly, sir," Will said, "and I am now getting round. I owe my life chiefly to the care and attention of the lad, here, who has watched over me like a brother."

Will's words were translated to the Ameer, who expressed his satisfaction, and ordered a purse of money to be given to the boy, in testimony of his approval of the care he had taken of his patient. As Major Cavagnari saw that the young soldier was almost too weak to stand, he at once told him to retire to his room, adding kindly:

"I will ask the Ameer to assign you quarters in the same house with us. We will soon bring you round, and make you strong and well again."

The same evening Will was carried over—for the fatigue he had undergone had been almost too much for him—to the large house assigned to Major Cavagnari, his officers and escort. It was built of wood, surrounded by a courtyard and wall. A room was assigned to Will, on the same floor as that occupied by the officers. The Afghan lad had received orders to accompany his patient, and remain with him as long as he stayed in Cabul.

Will's progress towards recovery was now rapid. He had no longer any cause for anxiety. He was carefully attended to by Doctor Kelly, the surgeon of the Guides, who had accompanied the mission as medical officer. The escort was commanded by Lieutenant Hamilton; and Sir Lewis Cavagnari was accompanied by Mr. William Jenkyns, of the Indian Civil Service, as his secretary. The care of Doctor Kelly, and the influence of quinine and tonics quickly added to Will's strength; but his best medicine was the sound of English voices, and the kindness which was shown to him. In a fortnight he was able to get about, as usual; and the doctor said that, in another month, he would be as strong as ever.