Position of the town—Sale’s brigade rebuilds the defences—A sortie—Bad news—A queer noise—A ruse that did not succeed—The only survivor comes in—Story of a massacre—The earthquake—The walls are down—Are rebuilt—English magic—Pollock comes—Fight outside—The peril of Lady Sale.

In November, 1841, the English Resident at the Afghan Court of Cabul was treacherously assassinated. General Elphinstone, who was left in command of the English troops, being in feeble health, attempted to leave the country with his 4,500 troops and three times that number of camp followers. On the 11th of March, 1842, Akbar Khan with a large army attacked General Sale at Jellalabad.

Jellalabad is a walled town on the right bank of the Cabul River. The upper end of the valley is very fertile and picturesque, studded with forts and villages, but all round the city it is sandy and arid. Snow mountains close in the valley on all sides.

South of Jellalabad, at a distance of 1,200 yards, is a low range of limestone hills, and on the south-west other low hills command the town at 200 yards’ distance. All round the walls were houses, mosques, old forts, gardens, and trees—in fact, every species of cover that an enemy could desire.

The walls of the town were 2,100 yards in extent, all in ruinous condition, and in many places not more than 9 feet high, and easily scaled. Through breaches in the wall laden cattle and droves of asses went in and out daily.

Into this town on the evening of the 12th of November, 1841, wearied, footsore, hungry, short of ammunition, Sale’s brigade entered, to undertake the desperate task of defending it against the whole power of the country, the people of which not only hated us as invaders, but regarded us as infidels to be rooted out.

At a distance of 600 miles from our own frontier, with the formidable defiles of the Khyber Pass to cross, what would be our condition if Runjeet Sing should refuse to allow another army to traverse his territories?

In the meantime these ruinous walls were better than the open plain; so, after viewing the fortifications, Sale marched the brigade in, and the inhabitants fled out at the other side as we entered.

It was decided to hold the whole town and try to make it defensible. Our supply of provisions was so low that the troops had to be put on half, and the camp followers on quarter, rations. As to ammunition, we had only 120 rounds per man. We set to work and collected grain, flour, pulse, and food of all sorts which had been left behind, and in a few hours supplies for several days had been gathered in.

As parts of the walls had no parapets and the sentries were quite exposed, hundreds of camel saddles were ranged, two deep and two high, for the sentries to kneel behind.

The next day many thousands of the enemy came swarming round and set fire to the grass huts and sheds on the eastern side. Some of them seemed to be bent on getting into a small mosque near the town, so a party of sappers, under Major Broadfoot, were sent to see what it contained.

They discovered a quantity of carbine ammunition, which proved to our men a timely and welcome supply. From dusk till midnight they kept firing on our sentries with wild yells. Then they withdrew, and the troops could snatch some rest.

At early dawn Sale determined on a sortie, and all were aroused without sound of bugle. Seven hundred infantry and two guns, commanded by Colonel Monteath, were ordered to sally out at sunrise and attack the Afghans. There were some 6,000 Afghans waiting to meet them in the rocky hills at the south-west angle of the city, but they did not resist long, and the cavalry rolled them over and pursued the fugitives, while Abbot’s guns ploughed through them wherever they massed together.

By ten o’clock it was all over. The panic was so great that they deserted the forts, and we secured all the grain and fodder.

Two great results followed this fortunate victory: it gave the garrison a little breathing-time, and we had a few days of uninterrupted quiet to repair our walls and destroy cover.

The people of the valley now adopted the usual Oriental policy of trying to keep well with both parties, and sent in donkey-loads of flour, wheat, etc.

Working parties were told off to clear away the rubbish, to destroy houses outside, and to build parapets on the walls; for with the enemy’s marksmen so near, no one could look over the walls or show a cap without getting a shot through it.

“Jellalabad” means “the abode of splendour,” but our men found it squalid and mean. There were two main streets, crossing each other at right angles; the rest were narrow, filthy lanes. The mountain tribes have fair complexions and the Grecian type of face. They are believed to be the descendants of the Greeks left by Alexander the Great. All their implements and household utensils are totally different from those used by the Afghans.

As soon as the enemy was driven off by our sortie the troops set to work on the defences. No one was allowed to be idle. Officers and men, with spade, pickaxe, bill-hook, or mining tools in hand—all were at work from daybreak to sunset.

Parties of the enemy hovered about, but never dared to molest us. Strong detachments of cavalry were sent out every day to protect our grass-cutters.

On the 21st of November the garrison received bad news. The little fort of Pesh Bolak (half-way between Jellalabad and the Khyber) had had to be evacuated, and Captain Ferris had been seen going over the mountains away to Peshawar in hasty retreat.

Then from Cabul they heard that our troops there were shut up by the insurgents in their fortified cantonment, that there was a general rising of the whole country, and the roads were closed against messengers.

Every night now parties of the enemy used to creep round and fire at our sentries. At twelve o’clock on the night of the 28th there was a tremendous report, like the firing of a heavy gun. The alarm was sounded, and in two minutes every man was at his post. Seaton was Captain of the day, so he hurried off to learn what all the row was about. He found Sale and his staff in the west gate, looking earnestly in the direction of the enemy, and discussing with the heroic Havelock the probabilities of an attack. It was a bright moonlight night; everything visible near or far. All at once some one called out:

“Here they come, sir! Don’t you see those two dark columns of men 500 yards off?”

Ah! yes. Every one saw them clearly enough.

“I looked a little, and then laughed right out. The General called to me in his short, sharp way:

“‘Seaton, what is it, sir?’

“‘General, where is the back wall of the old fort?’

“‘Eh! eh! what! what!’ said he testily.

“‘Why, General, you sent me out yesterday to destroy the back wall of that old fort behind which the enemy used to muster. The clay was too hard for us, so, as the wall was just over a sunk road, and the bank below the wall soft, I threw a dam across the lower part of the road and turned in yon little stream. I guess it has softened the bank, and the wall has fallen with a slap into the water and produced the explosion. The columns of men are only the shadows of the north and south walls.’ So we all had a hearty laugh.”

Seaton was on guard every third day. Though the duty was hard, it was comparatively a day of rest. During the night officers visited the guards and sentries every two hours, and made the sentries report everything they had seen or heard. They patrolled the streets, too, every two hours, and the picket in the centre of the town sent patrols to each gate every hour during the night. Every day, when not on special duty, he went out with a large working party to destroy the old walls and houses outside the town, to fell and cut up the trees, and to bring them in for firewood.

The enemy had some capital marksmen, and several of our men were shot through the loopholes. Sale now thought it time to put a stop to this, for they cut off our supplies and we had only thirty days’ food in store. So he quietly waited until noon, when the enemy would be thinking more of food than fighting, and a column of 1,100 infantry was formed in the west street. All the cavalry that could be mustered, with two of Abbott’s guns, assembled in the south street. They had a tough job at first. The Afghans stood bravely and poured in a heavy fire; but the moment the cavalry and guns appeared on the plain clear of Piper’s Hill the whole body of the enemy fled in every direction. Many were drowned in the river.

During the pursuit Captain Oldfield, who commanded the cavalry, as he galloped up to a party of the fugitives, saw one man suddenly stop, throw off his turban, tear off his clothes, wrap his waist-cloth round his loins and attempt to personate a Hindoo, calling out, “Shah bash, AngrÈz!” (“Well done, English!”). But our troopers were not to be deceived: the Hindoo gentleman was instantly cut down.

Doubtless if the Afghans had possessed the needful tools they might have succeeded in their plan of cooping us in and starving us out.

It was to Major Broadfoot’s firmness and foresight that the brigade was mainly indebted for its honour and safety. When they were first sent out, Broadfoot was ordered to proceed without his tools. This he respectfully but firmly declined to do, and by his manly representations he carried his point, and was allowed to take them.

They returned at dusk, very hungry and tired. Our loss had been small, our gain great, and a further result was that provisions at once began to flow in. People flocked to the gates to sell flour, grain, and vegetables. But the officers were all so poor that very few of them could purchase anything. The soldiers and camp-followers were still worse off. The commissariat officer had now six weeks’ food in store, but would the treasure-chest hold out? Copper coinage had nearly disappeared.

The New Year, 1842, opened ominously, and brought more evil tidings. A letter from Cabul, from Pottinger, told them of the murder of the Envoy, that Ghusnee was besieged, and the whole country in insurrection.

But our garrison was not dismayed. All scouted the idea of any great disaster happening to our troops at Cabul, and our works were pushed on with increased vigour. Provisions kept coming in, and the surplus was carefully stored.

On the 9th of January a letter from General Elphinstone was brought in by a horseman, ordering Sale to retire with his brigade to Peshawar.

It was a crushing, humiliating blow, spreading a gloom over every heart; but when Sale’s determination was made known—to hold Jellalabad until the Cabul force arrived—the men’s confidence in their commander was greater than ever.

The greatest harmony existed between the European and native soldiers, and there was but one mind in the garrison—to defy the Afghans and to redeem as far as possible the reverses of the Cabul force. They had no money, they were short of ammunition, and had not too much food; but there was no thought of giving way.

On the 13th of January Seaton was on guard at the south gate when, a little after twelve o’clock, some one came rushing along the passage leading to the guardroom. The door was burst open, and Lieutenant B—— threw himself into Seaton’s arms, exclaiming:

“My God, Seaton! the whole of the Cabul army has been destroyed!”

“What! man, are you mad? The whole army?”

“All but one—Dr. Brydon! We saw from the top of the gateway a man riding on an old pony. He seemed to be wounded; he was bending over the pommel. We sent two horsemen out to bring him in—it was Dr. Brydon. He could not speak at first. Then he murmured: ‘The only survivor of Cabul army!—all killed.’”

After thinking this over in silence for a minute or two, they went outside and saw Sale and his staff at the Cabul gate hoisting up the colours, a sign to any poor fugitive who might have escaped. A hearty cheer went up as they looked on their country’s glorious colours. Their spirits were still high.

Instantly the cavalry rode out. About four miles from Jellalabad they found the bodies of three of Brydon’s companions—Lieutenant Harper, Collyer, and Hopkins—all terribly mangled.

At night lights were hung out over the Cabul gate, and two buglers were put on duty in the south-west bastion to sound the advance every quarter of an hour, in hope that some poor fugitive might hear it and be saved.

“The terrible wailing sound of those bugles I shall never forget,” says Seaton. “It was a dirge for our slaughtered soldiers, and had a most mournful and depressing effect.” Dr. Brydon’s tale struck horror into the hearts of all who heard it, but mingled with the sorrow and pity came a fierce desire for vengeance. Little was said, but the stern looks of the soldiers, the set teeth, and the clenched hands, showed how deep was the feeling that had been stirred, and how stern the vow registered in each man’s heart.

On the 19th a servant of Captain Bazette came in, and on the 30th a Goorkah. On the 31st they had the pleasure of welcoming another white face—a sergeant-major. From the accounts of the sergeant they gathered many particulars of this tragedy—how, after the murder of our Envoy, General Elphinstone agreed to evacuate the country and retire with the whole of his force, Akbar, on his part, undertaking to escort the Cabul force and guarantee it from attack; how the Afghans rushed into our cantonments, even before the rear of the British force had got outside the walls, and began their plundering; how our men were shot down in the Khoord Cabul Pass; how Akbar pretended he could not control his men, and advised the English officers to surrender to him; how the native soldiers, chilled to death in the snow, went over to the enemy in hundreds.

The sergeant said in their excuse: “I can’t blame the natives. I myself was born in a cold climate. I was well clad, yet my sufferings from the cold were terrible: my fingers were frost-bitten, and all my joints were sore. Why, sir, in the next pass the Afghans, after slaughtering our men till they were tired, stripped hundreds of poor Hindoos stark naked and left them there to die in the cold.”

Stories such as these only spurred on the garrison of Jellalabad to greater exertion, for, as they would have now to face Akbar Khan and all his warriors, on them devolved the task of redeeming our country’s fame.

On the 30th of January our cavalry brought in 175 head of cattle that had been grazing at some distance off, and on the next day they shepherded in 734 sheep.

Now, work on Sunday was remitted. Men came to morning service with sword and pistol, or musket and bayonet, and sixty rounds in pouch, ready at a moment’s notice to march to battle.

“To me,” says Seaton, “it was always an affecting sight to see these great rough fellows with their heads bowed, humbly confessing their sins before God, and acknowledging their dependence on His goodness and mercy; and I am sure that afterwards, when we were surrounded by greater perils, there were many who felt the comfort there was in having One to whom they could appeal in all their troubles.”

In February they knew that Akbar was collecting his forces for an attack. On our side the General ordered that all able-bodied camp-followers who were willing should be armed and receive the pay of native soldiers.

Those for whom there were no muskets were armed with pikes, which were made for them.

On the 16th rain came down in torrents; on the 18th heavy rain again. On the morning of the 19th Seaton was at work outside when he felt a smart shock of earthquake, with a rumbling noise. At first he did not take much notice, but when the rumbling increased and swelled to the loudest thunder, as if a thousand heavy waggons were being driven at speed over a rough pavement, he turned quite sick. An awful fear came over him. The ground heaved and set like the sea, and the whole plain seemed to be rolling in waves towards them. The motion was so violent that some were nearly thrown down, and expected every moment to see the whole town swallowed up.

The houses, the walls, and the bastions were rocking and reeling in a most terrific manner, and falling into complete ruin, while all along the south and west faces the parapets, which had cost us so much labour to erect, were crumbling away like sand. The whole was enveloped in one immense cloud of dust, out of which came cries of terror from the hundreds within.

When the dreadful noise and quaking ceased, a dead silence succeeded, all being so deeply impressed by the terror of the scene that they dared not utter a sound. The men were absolutely green with fear. Presently a gentle breeze sprang up. Officers encouraged the men to go on with their work, but, looking round the valley, they saw every fort and village wrapped in dense clouds of dust. From some the dust was streaming away like smoke, from others it rose high in the air in dense columns.

When the breeze had cleared away the dust from Jellalabad an awful scene of destruction appeared. The upper stories of the houses were all gone, and beams, posts, doors, windows, bits of wall, ends of roof, earth and dust, all were mingled in one confused heap. It was as if some gigantic hand had taken up the houses and thrown them down in one rubbish-heap.

The parapets all round had fallen from the walls. The walls were split in many places. In the eastern wall a breach had been made large enough for two companies abreast to walk through.

Sale’s bugle sounded the assembly, and they went in at once. On muster being taken, it was found that the loss of life was happily only three men crushed in the cavalry hospital.

On looking round, it was found that a month’s cannonading with a hundred pieces of heavy artillery could not have produced the damage that the earthquake had effected in a few seconds. “The hand of the Almighty had indeed humbled our pride, and taught us the wholesome lesson that He alone is a sure defence.”

The Colonel narrowly escaped with his life. He had been standing on the wall, which, he said after he was taken up from the ruins, wriggled like a snake.

In one place, as an officer was passing along the ramparts, the ground opened beneath him, and he fell in, but only to be thrown out again—an operation which was twice repeated. At a spot near the river the wall had opened so wide that a man could have slipped through. All the barracks and sheds were in ruins; all shelter for the men was destroyed.

This, however, was not the time for idle wonder or for despair. Without delay every man in garrison was set to work, and though there were frequent shocks of earthquake during the day, the ruins had been cleared away by dusk, and a temporary parapet of clods of earth and clay made all round the walls.

Towards sunset a small body of horsemen from Akbar’s camp came to reconnoitre. Abbott, who was looking out, sent a shot right into the party, making them scamper off, probably to report to their chiefs that the fortifications were uninjured, and that our “magic” had caused the earthquake.

But we were in a critical state, with all defences levelled, a huge breach in the works, and the destroyer of our Cabul force within a few miles of us, with the whole power of the country at his back.

They had now daily fights for their forage. The grass-cutters went out at early dawn under a strong escort. The grass in India is a creeping grass: the shoots run along under ground, or it would perish in the droughts of summer.

The grass-cutter, armed with a small hoe, sits down on his heels, and with a sweeping motion cuts the grass half an inch below the surface of the ground. He then collects it, beats off the earth, and brings it home on his head. This grass is very sweet and nutritious. As the hot weather advanced they had to go further afield for grass. On the 2nd of March Akbar sent a large force round to the east, and they were invested.

“I find this in my journal for the 2nd of March: ‘All our comforts are vanishing. Tea has long been gone; coffee goes to-day; sugar on its last legs; butter gone; no grass for the cows; candles not to be had. Akbar is trying to starve us out.’”

Lead for the rifles was in great request. Some officers of the 13th hit upon a very comical method of procuring it. They dressed up a figure—cocked hat, red coat, painted face—and put it on a short pole. Hoisted up above the ramparts and managed adroitly, it created no end of fun.

Eagerly the Afghans fired at it. Thousands of bullets went over their heads or battered against the wall below. Whenever they thought the General was hit or saw him bob down, they yelled and shouted like madmen.

How many Generals must they not have killed! Generals running short! The figure was hit sometimes. In the evening or early morning they used to go outside and pick up the bullets, of which immense numbers were found. In the course of half an hour one morning Seaton picked up 121, but several officers picked up more.

From the 2nd of March, the day on which the enemy established a camp east of the city, they all slept at their posts on the walls. No one took off his clothes. None of them wore uniform, but clothes made of camel-hair cloth. Too much digging for fine uniforms! On the 10th of March, as the Afghans had been thronging the ravines for many days, Sale thought it wise to see to it, so a sortie with 800 men was ordered. They thoroughly examined the ravines at night and destroyed the enemy’s shelters. As they were retiring into the town the enemy came on, pursuing with loud yells and screams. Their horse came boldly down towards the town, offering a splendid mark for Abbott, whose guns plied them with shot and shell with deadly effect.

Not a single horseman could stand before Abbott’s gun within 1,200 yards, his aim was so unerring. Ever since the siege of Bhurtpoor he had been celebrated for his skill as an artilleryman, and they had daily proof of his prowess.

So the month progressed, fighting or working by day, watching on the walls by night, and all the time on half rations.

They knew that Government was assembling a force at Peshawar under Pollock in order to relieve them, for they got a stray letter now and then.

Hard work, poor food, anxiety, were making all thin and pale; and some of them were angry with Sale that he would not go out and fight, for they felt perfectly capable of squaring accounts with Akbar and his legions; but “Fighting Bob,” as he was called, would not come up to his name.

Night after night they were roused from their short sleep by earthquakes. A sharper shock, a violent heave, a short cracking sound, and all would start up, listen, grumble, try to get to sleep again.

Some messengers came in from Peshawar on the 25th. They heard the men of the 13th in fits of laughter at some absurd game they were playing, and all the native soldiers singing in chorus their festival songs. They were astounded.

“Why,” they said, “you are besieged, and ought to be sad and dispirited; but you are all as merry as possible.”

When they saw the ease with which a party of Akbar’s men were beaten in a fight for some grass they were utterly confounded. When they returned to Peshawar all this went down the road to the Khyber, with wonderful additions. It was just the sort of tale that in the mouths of such men would not lose in the telling.

All this time the greatest cordiality and good feeling prevailed between the European and native soldiers.

“I remember one case of disagreement,” says Seaton. “A sepoy of my company met a soldier of the 13th on a narrow path in the town. The soldier overbalanced himself, and stepped into the mud.

“Being very hot-tempered, he struck the sepoy a violent blow. The latter came to me to make his complaint. The matter was referred to Sale, who was furious, blew up the English soldier fearfully, and ordered him to confinement.

“As the Adjutant was marching the soldier off the sepoy took the soldier by the hand and said: ‘General Sahib, forgive him. There has not been one quarrel between any of us ever since the regiments have been together. You have scolded with him, so I ask you please forgive him.’

“The General granted the sepoy’s request. The soldier said he was sorry he had given way to temper and struck a man who could behave so generously.

“Many of our soldiers had friends among the sepoys, and I have known more than once a soldier, when dying, send for his sepoy friend to be with him in his last moments.”

Akbar had a new idea: he caused large flocks of sheep to be driven over the distant forage grounds. On the 30th they saw these flocks going within range of the guns. They looked at them with hungry eyes.

On the morning of the 1st of April a flock of sheep was driven by the enemy’s shepherds close to the old ruined fort. Several officers got round Sale and fairly badgered him into making an attempt to carry them off. Four hundred men, all the cavalry, and some pikemen, were ordered out. As they sallied forth Seaton heard a man on the walls say to a friend, “I say, Bill, what a lark if we can get in all them sheep!”

The cavalry rode out and got round them. The sheep were given to the pikemen. The infantry extended in skirmishing order to check the enemy, who were running up. The sheep were got in, the last one dropping a lamb on the very threshold.

They had one man killed and eight wounded, but were all in the highest spirits, and when the Afghans, dancing with rage, showed themselves on the hills, they were saluted with shouts of laughter and a thousand cries of “B-a-a! b-a-a!”

The garrison got 481 sheep and a few goats. The General gave forty sheep to the men of Seaton’s regiment (natives); but they, with great good-feeling, desired that the sheep should be given to the English soldiers, for whom, they said, such food was necessary, while they could do very well on their rations. Bravo, 35th Native Infantry! A grateful letter came in return from the non-commissioned officers and privates of the 13th L.I. to Colonel Dennie, ending with, “Believe me, sir, that feeling is more gratifying to us than the value of the gift, and we shall ever feel the obligation our old comrades and brother campaigners have placed us under.”

On the 3rd a spy came in and told them that when Akbar learnt that they had captured his sheep, he burst into such a transport of fury that his people were afraid to go near him.

On the 6th of April they heard that Pollock had been repulsed in the Khyber Pass, and at noon Akbar fired a royal salute in honour of his victory.

All the officers now went to Sale and urged on him the absolute necessity of going out and fighting Akbar.

Sale saw that the time for action had arrived.

On the morning of the 7th strong guards were posted at the gates, a picket in the centre of the town, and all pikemen, sick and wounded soldiers, etc., were sent to man the walls, and a very respectable show they made.

With the first peep of dawn the gates were quietly opened, and the three columns, under Dennie, Monteath, and Havelock, sallied out.

The plan was to march direct on Akbar’s camp, burn it, drive him into the river, and bring off his guns.

They wasted some time in attacking a ruinous fort, and Colonel Dennie was mortally wounded. Then Sale called off the troops, and they went straight for Akbar.

The sound of the guns had roused all the enemy’s force, and they were turning out in thousands. It was a grand sight to see their large masses of horse coming down from the hills. They charged boldly on Havelock’s column, which, rapidly thrown into square, received them with the greatest coolness, and repulsed them with heavy loss.

They then made an attack on Seaton’s regiment, but at this moment two guns of Abbott’s battery came up and sent shot and shell crashing into the enemy’s ranks, making them recoil faster than they had advanced.

The English soon came within sight of the Afghan camp, from whence the enemy opened fire on them, which caused some loss. But they made a rush and carried the camp without a check, while the enemy fled through the groves of trees beyond. They tried to carry off one of the guns, but a shot by Abbott killed the two horses attached to the limber, and the artillerymen fled. Numbers of the fugitives threw themselves into the river, which, swollen and rapid, destroyed the greatest part of them.

The whole of Akbar’s camp fell into our hands. His guns, ammunition, standards, plunder—everything he had with him. The bugle soon recalled the skirmishers, and Seaton was detached with a party to fire the tents and the huts, made of boughs and reeds. The smoke of the burning proclaimed our victory to the whole valley. Numbers of camels and mounds of grain fell into our hands.

“I secured three noble camels for myself, and right good service they did me afterwards.”

Sale was anxious to get back to Jellalabad, so the men returned in triumph, each man carrying off what he pleased, and were received with loud cheers from the walls. A little after dark the news was brought in by some Hindoos living in the valley that every fort and village within eight miles had been deserted.

This night they slept in bed, perfectly undisturbed. After passing the last thirty-six nights on the ramparts, armed and accoutred, constantly roused by the enemy, by their own rounds, by the relief of sentries, by those terrible earthquakes, many nights drenched by rain without shelter, quiet rest in a real bed for the whole night was an unspeakable luxury; “but coupled with the thought that, unaided, we had broken the toils cast round us by Akbar Khan; that we had beaten in fair fight the chief who had destroyed our Cabul army; that months of toil, watching, anxiety, and peril had been crowned with glorious success; that our country’s honour was safe in our hands, it was positive bliss, such as few have had the happiness to taste.”

On this night even the earthquakes spared them—no sudden roar, no sharp electric shock, no far-off rumbling sound, no sharp crack of doom to startle them from their well-earned repose. It was bliss!

It was observed that earthquakes usually followed much rain, thus raising the question whether steam may not often be the origin of the phenomenon.

Next day they found 580 rounds of ammunition for the captured guns. Now food began to pour in from the country, and they lived on the fat of the land.

News came in that Pollock had forced the Khyber, and would arrive about the 15th.

At length, on the morning of the 14th, they could see with their glasses Pollock’s force coming near. They had not arrived in time to help the garrison in their imminent peril. They had lost the grand opportunity of joining with them to crush the man whose treachery had destroyed their brothers-in-arms, whose bones lay scattered in the icy passes of Cabul. A fifth part of Pollock’s cavalry would have enabled them to annihilate Akbar and all his troops.

So when next morning Pollock’s force did arrive, there was a hearty welcome, but a sly bit of sarcasm in the tune to which the band of the 13th played them in, “Ye’re ower lang o’ comin’.”

It was not Pollock’s fault, however. He had to wait for the troops to join him at Peshawar.

“Let me relate one incident,” writes Colonel Seaton, “that will tend to illustrate the character of my old commander, General Sir R. Sale.

“Shortly after Akbar’s camp appeared in sight it was whispered about in garrison that Akbar intended to bring Lady Sale, then a prisoner in his hands, before the walls, and put her to torture within sight, and so compel Sale to surrender.

“Every day when the men were at dinner Sale used to take a turn on the ramparts, ostensibly to have a quiet look round at the progress of our works, but in reality, I believe, to ponder on the desperate situation of his wife and daughter, and debate with himself the means of effecting their rescue.

“We knew that they were well, had hitherto been kindly treated, and were in Akbar’s fort, not many miles off.

“One day Sale, in going his rounds, came and stood over the south gate, where I was on duty; so, as I had enjoyed the privilege of great intimacy with him and Lady Sale at Cabul, I went out and joined him. I ventured to mention this report, and asked him what he would do if it should prove true, and if Akbar should put his threat into execution.

“Turning towards me, his face pale and stern, but quivering with deep emotion, he replied:

“‘I—I will have every gun turned on her. My old bones shall be buried beneath the ruins of the fort here, but I will never surrender!’”

Could Lady Sale have heard it, her heart would have bounded with pride, for the heroine was worthy of her hero.

The reception of the garrison by Lord Ellenborough at Ferozepoor was a noble and ample return for all their toil and suffering. His lordship had taken care that each officer and man of the “illustrious garrison,” as he termed them, should have a medal, and they were sent out to them before they reached Ferozepoor.

Not an English officer in India at this time had such a mark of distinction. They were the first to be so honoured, and were highly gratified by it.

On the morning on which they marched in, the bridge of boats over the Sutlej was gaily ornamented with flags and streamers. His lordship met them at the bridge head, and was the first to welcome them as they stepped on the soil of our own provinces. All the troops in camp were drawn up in line at open order, and received them as they passed with presented arms. Lord Ellenborough also ordered that at each station they marched through on their way to their destination the same military honours should be rendered to them. The garrison were received with similar marks of distinction at Kurnaul, at Delhi, and at Agra.

“We may forget everything else, but we shall never forget Lord Ellenborough’s noble and ever-ready kindness and the many honours he caused to be shown us. One word more: After the Mutiny, it is not to be wondered at that the sepoy was written down as a demon and a coward; but we had known him as an excellent soldier, generally mild and humane and temperate as a man, sometimes even generous and forgiving, as the best of Christians.”

When will it become the English custom to recite before our young of both sexes some of the deeds which have saved the Empire, “lest we forget”? If not in church, at least in school, we should make this effort to save our children from ignorance, which is ingratitude.

From Major-General Sir Thomas Seaton’s record, “From Cadet to Colonel.” By kind permission of Messrs. G. Routledge and Sons.