[November, 1841.]

Progress of the Insurrection—General Elphinstone—His Infirmities—Recall of Brigadier Shelton to Cantonments—Capture of the Ricka-bashee Fort—Intrigues with the Afghan Chiefs—The Envoy’s Correspondence with Mohun Lal.

The insurrection had now been raging for a week. The enemy had increased in numbers and in daring. The troops in the British cantonments were dispirited and disheartened. The General had begun to talk and to write about negotiation. The Envoy was attempting to buy off the enemy. Nothing had yet been done to avert the disastrous and disgraceful catastrophe which now threatened to crown our misfortunes. It was plain that something must be done. Any change would be a change for the better.

The officers, who served under General Elphinstone throughout this unhappy crisis, have invariably spoken of him with tenderness and respect. He was an honourable gentleman—a kind-hearted man; and he had once been a good soldier. His personal courage has never been questioned. Regardless of danger and patient under trial, he exposed himself without reserve, and bore his sufferings without complaining. But disease had broken down his physical strength, and enfeebled his understanding. He had almost lost the use of his limbs. He could not walk; he could hardly ride. The gout had crippled him in a manner that it was painful to contemplate. You could not see him engaged in the most ordinary concerns of peaceful life without an emotion of lively compassion. He was fit only for the invalid establishment on the day of his arrival in India. It was a mockery to talk of his commanding a division of the army in the quietest district of Hindostan. But he was selected by Lord Auckland, against the advice of the Commander-in-Chief and the remonstrances of the Agra governor, to assume the command of that division of the army which of all others was most likely to be actively employed, and which demanded, therefore, the greatest amount of energy and activity in its commander. Among the general officers of the Indian army were many able and energetic men, with active limbs and clear understandings. There was one—a cripple, whose mental vigour much suffering had enfeebled; and he was selected by the Governor-General to command the army in Afghanistan.

Ever since his arrival at the head quarters at Caubul he had been, in his own words, “unlucky in the state of his health.” From the beginning of May to the beginning of October he had been suffering, with little intermission, from fever and rheumatic gout. Sometimes he had been confined wholly to his couch; at others he was enabled to go abroad in a palanquin. During one or two brief intervals he had sufficiently recovered his strength to trust himself on the back of a horse. He was in the enjoyment of one of these intervals—but expecting every day to relinquish a burden which he was so ill able to bear[133]—when on the 2nd of November, whilst inspecting the guards, he “had a very severe fall—the horse falling upon him,”[134] and he was compelled to return to his quarters. From that time, though he never spared himself, it was painfully obvious that the Caubul army was without a chief. The General was perplexed—bewildered. He was utterly without resources of his own. A crisis had come upon him, demanding all the energies of a robust constitution and a vigorous understanding; and it had found him with a frame almost paralysed by disease, and a mind quite clouded by suffering. He had little knowledge of the political condition of Afghanistan, of the feelings of the people, of the language they spoke, or the country they inhabited. He was compelled, therefore, to rely upon the information of others, and to seek the advice of those with whom he was associated. So circumstanced, the ablest and most confident general would have been guided by the counsels of the British Envoy. But General Elphinstone was guided by every man’s counsels—generally by the last speaker’s—by captains and subalterns, by any one who had a plan to propose or any kind of advice to offer. He was, therefore, in a constant state of oscillation; now inclining to one opinion, now to another; now determining upon a course of action, now abandoning it; the resolutions of one hour giving way before the doubts of its successor, until, in the midst of these vacillations, the time to strike passed away for ever, and the loss was not to be retrieved.

In such a conjuncture, there could have been no greater calamity than the feeble indecision of the military commander. Promptitude of action was the one thing demanded by the exigences of the occasion; but instead of promptitude of action, there was nothing but hesitation and incertitude; long delays and small doings, worse than nothing; paltry demonstrations, looking as though they were expressly designed as revelations of the lamentable weakness of our arms, and the more lamentable imbecility of our counsels. To the Envoy all this was miserably apparent. It was apparent to the whole garrison. It was not possible altogether to supersede the General. He was willing, with all his incompetency, to serve his country, and there was no authority in Afghanistan to remove him from his command. But something, it was thought, might be done by associating with him, in the command of the cantonment force, an officer of a more robust frame and more energetic character. Brigadier Shelton was known to be an active and a gallant soldier. Macnaghten counselled his recall from the Balla Hissar, and the General believing, or perhaps only hoping, that he would find a willing coadjutor in the Brigadier, despatched a note to him with instructions to come into cantonments.

Taking with him only a regiment of the Shah’s troops and a single gun, the Brigadier quitted the Balla Hissar on the morning of the 9th of November, and made his way, without any interruption, to the cantonment, in broad daylight. The garrison welcomed him with cordiality. He came amongst them almost as a deliverer. Great things were expected from him. He was beloved neither by officers nor by men; but he was held to possess some sturdy qualities, and never to shrink from fighting. Little or nothing was known of his aptitude as a leader. He had seldom or never been placed in a position of responsible command. But the time for weighing nice questions of generalship had long ago passed away. The garrison were content to look for a commander to lead them against the enemy, with sufficient promptitude and in sufficient numbers to protect them against the certainty of failure. But a week of almost unbroken disaster had dispirited and enfeebled them. Everything that Shelton saw and heard was of a nature to discourage him. Anxious faces were around him, and desponding words saluted his ears. He went round the cantonments, and saw at once how large a force it required to defend such extensive works, and how small a body of troops could be spared for external operations. Everything, indeed, was against him. He had not been sent for, until a series of disasters had crippled our means of defence, emboldened the enemy, disheartened the garrison, and brought the grim shadow of starvation close to the cantonment walls.[135]

But there was another evil soon to become only too painfully apparent. Brigadier Shelton had been sent for to co-operate with the General; but it was manifest that there was never likely to be any co-operation between them. Each has left upon record his opinion of the conduct of the other. The General says that the Brigadier was contumacious and insubordinate. The Brigadier says that he was thwarted in all his efforts to do good service—that he could not even place a gun in position without being reminded by the General that he had no independent command. Upon whomsoever the greater amount of blame may rest, the result was sufficiently deplorable. The military chiefs never acted in concert.[136] Shelton was a man of a hard uncompromising nature, and it is probable that he had little toleration for the indecision of the general, and was little inclined to regard with tenderness and compassion the infirmities of the poor old chief. He did what he was commanded to do, if not with much military skill, at all events with an unflinching gallantry, to which the general himself bore willing testimony.[137] But from the absence of a right understanding between them a fatality attended almost every enterprise. Hesitation and delay at the outset—then vacillation and contradiction—resolutions taken and then abandoned—orders issued and then countermanded—so irritated the Brigadier, that his temper, never of a very genial cast, was generally in a somewhat tempestuous state before he took the field at the head of his men. How far we may rightly attribute to this the want of success which attended the Brigadier’s operations can only now be conjectured; but it is very certain that in all of them the daring of the soldier was more conspicuous than the judgment of the commander.

In the meanwhile the Envoy was anxiously looking for the return of Sale’s brigade from Gundamuck. He doubted the possibility of their being beset by any serious difficulties. He had written to Mohun Lal on the 8th, cautioning him not to place any reliance on the story about Gundamuck, for Sale’s force, he said, was “too strong to be resisted by any force that the rebels could bring against them.” And on the following day he despatched another letter to Captain Macgregor, urging him to send back the troops to the relief of our beleaguered position. Only a fragment of this letter has been preserved; but it sufficiently indicates the Envoy’s opinion of the melancholy, almost desperate, state to which our affairs had even then attained. “I have written to you several letters,” said Macnaghten, “urging you in the strongest manner to come up with Sale’s brigade to our relief, but I fear you may not have received them. Our situation is rather a desperate one unless you arrive, because we can neither retreat in any direction, nor leave the cantonments to go into the Balla Hissar; but if we had your force we should be able to take the city, and thus preserve both the cantonment and Balla Hissar. The enemy is a contemptible one.”[138] From the return of Sale’s brigade alone did the Envoy look for any permanent change in the condition of affairs at Caubul. But from that quarter no assistance could come. The force was moving in another direction.

But whatever might be the chance of permanent improvement in the condition of affairs, it was still necessary to do something for the moment. On the morning of the 10th of November, the enemy mustered in great numbers—horse and foot—on the heights commanding the cantonment, sending up shouts of insolent defiance and firing feux de joie. There were some small forts on the plain below, perilously near our cantonment walls, and in these the enemy presently posted themselves, and grievously harassed our soldiers on the works. One of these, known as the Ricka-bashee Fort, situated near the north-east angle of the cantonment, was within musket-shot of our walls. It was easy to pour in thence a galling fire upon the troops manning our works; and the artillerymen at the guns were shot down by the deadly aim of the Afghan marksmen, concealed in the ruins of some adjacent houses. This was not to be endured. It is hard to believe that, whilst his men were being shot down before his eyes by hidden marksmen, the military chief could have needed much prompting to send out a party for the capture of the fort that so commanded our position. But it was only on the urgent representation of the Envoy that an expedition against the Ricka-bashee Fort was undertaken at last. There was a fine manly spirit—there were some good, true soldierly qualities, in Macnaghten; and he told the military commander that he did not shrink from responsibility—that, in such a case as this, he would take it all upon himself, but that at any risk the fort must be carried. Reluctantly the General consented; and a force under Brigadier Shelton, consisting of about two thousand men of all arms, was ordered to hold itself in readiness.[139] The force assembled about the hour of noon. The Brigadier was making his dispositions for the attack, when it again occurred to the General that the expedition was a dangerous one (as though war were not always dangerous), and that it would be more prudent to abandon it. The aide-de-camp at his elbow asked him why, if such were his opinions, he did not countermand it at once. And so the expedition was countermanded; and the Brigadier returned “disgusted with such vacillation.”[140]

The troops were brought back within the cantonment walls; and the Brigadier, overflowing with indignation, laid the case before the Envoy. Macnaghten was as eager as Shelton for the movement; and the scruples of the General were overruled. But time had now been lost. The enemy’s position had been strengthened. The spirit of our troops had been damped—their forwardness had been checked. The expedition set out with diminished chances of success, and the result was a dubious victory.

The Ricka-bashee Fort was captured on that 10th of November, but in a disastrous and calamitous manner, which made the victory look more like a defeat. It was determined to blow open the gate with powder-bags, and Captain Bellew, the Assistant Quartermaster-General, gallantly volunteered to undertake the work of destruction. But, by some accident, instead of blowing open the main gate, he blew open a small wicket. Two companies of European and four companies of Native troops[141] had been told off to form the storming party; and Colonel Mackrell, of the 44th, was ordered to command it. The men, gallantly commanded, advanced with spirit to the attack; but they could with difficulty make their way through the narrow aperture, and the enemy, as they struggled forward, poured upon them a hot and destructive fire. Colonel Mackrell and Lieutenant Bird forced their way, with a few soldiers, into the fort. Captain Westmacott was shot down outside the aperture, and Captain Macrae sabred in the entrance. The few who made good their way into the interior of the fort struck a panic into the garrison, who, believing that the whole party were following them, fled in dismay out of the opposite gate. But the storming party, unhappily at this time, were checked by a charge of Afghan horse. The cry of “Cavalry” seems to have paralysed the British musketeers, who wavered, turned, and were soon in disastrous flight—Europeans and Sepoys together. In vain their officers endeavoured to urge them on to the attack—in vain they pleaded the desperate condition of those who had already entered, if they were not speedily supported. One man—a private of the 44th, named Stewart—alone volunteered to follow them. It was not easy to rally the fugitives. Confusion and dismay had seized them, and for some time they were deaf to every appeal. But they were commanded by one who at least was a brave soldier. Brigadier Shelton was a man of iron nerves and dauntless courage. Where the fire was the hottest he stood unshaken by the danger that assailed him, and shamed the disordered crowd of men, no longer soldiers. The example of the one-armed veteran did more than his exhortations. The broken bands rallied, re-formed, and advanced to the attack. But again they gave way to the Afghan horse; and again Shelton’s expostulations and example brought the waverers back to their duty. The heavy guns from the cantonments were by this time playing upon the Afghan cavalry; the impetuosity of the enemy was thus restrained, and Shelton led up his men to the capture of the fort.

In the meanwhile, the few brave men who had made good their entrance through the wicket were beset by the deadliest peril. Many of the garrison, discovering how small was the real number of their assailants, had returned with new courage to the fort. The devoted Englishmen had endeavoured to secure themselves by shutting the gate through which the garrison had escaped, and securing the chain with a bayonet. But the enemy had removed this slender obstacle, and rushed in upon the little storming party. Colonel Mackrell was found fearfully wounded and disfigured, and was carried into cantonments to die. Lieutenant Bird, with two Sepoys of the 37th N.I., sought refuge in a stable, which they barricaded and defended with a resolution that deserved and secured a crown of success. When the fort was carried by the British troops they were found, with exhausted ammunition, but alive and uninjured. Thirty of the enemy had been shot down by the gallant three.

On the fall of the Ricka-bashee Fort some small adjacent forts were abandoned by the enemy, and a quantity of grain fell into our hands, only to be lost again for want of proper measures to secure it. Before the day closed, Shelton had threatened the enemy, who had collected in some force on the Seeah Sungh hills. The Horse Artillery guns opened with good effect, and the enemy retired towards the city; but no attempt seems to have been made, on our part, to bring on a general action. On this 10th of November, for the first time any considerable body of troops was brought into the field. The opportunity of making a decided impression was a good one; but it was not turned to good account. The whole affair was mismanaged. The spirit of the troops was damped at the outset by the vacillation of the General. A grievous error was committed in attempting, for want of information to be easily obtained, an entrance at the wrong point, into the Ricka-bashee Fort. Then the force sent out under Brigadier Shelton was lamentably weak in the mounted branch, although there was no want of cavalry in cantonments. Had the infantry been supported by a stronger body of horse, they would have had more confidence in themselves, and suffered less severely in the action. A strong reserve, too, should have been held in readiness for employment in the event of the party meeting with any check, or requiring any support. As it was, when the Afghan horse attacked our columns and threw them into confusion, there was nothing to give them any confidence but the gallantry of their leaders.

The result, however, of the capture of the forts, though the achievement was clouded by a melancholy loss of life, was more satisfactory than would be supposed from such a recital of the errors that attended it. The Envoy, indeed, subsequently declared that it averted the necessity of a disastrous retreat.[142] We had got possession of some positions contiguous to the cantonment, the occupation of which by the enemy had grievously distressed our force. For two or three days after the capture the Afghans did little to annoy us. The commissariat officers took advantage of the opportunity to add to their available supplies;[143] and whilst they were endeavouring to buy grain, the Envoy was doing his best to buy the enemy. The negotiations with the Ghilzyes, which had been broken off, were resumed; and every possible effort was made to win over the chiefs to our cause, or to sow dissension among them. In all these operations he employed the agency of Mohun Lal. The hasty letters written to this individual best unfold the nature of these transactions. On the 11th of November he thus addressed the Moonshee: “You will observe from the enclosed letters that I have confirmed the promises made by you to the Ghilzye rebels; though had you known of our successes yesterday, the terms might have been more favourable for us. Humza Khan should come to me as soon as possible, and I will then talk to him about the case of Gool Mahomed. The money could not be paid until the conditions of the agreement are fulfilled, and we are perfectly certain of the fidelity of Humza and the chiefs. The chiefs should go at once and pay their respects to his Majesty. You should encourage the rival of Ameen-oollah Khan by all possible means. That scoundrel and Abdoollah Khan should be executed, if we could catch them.”[144]

And again, writing two days afterwards, he said: “I have received your letter of this morning’s date, and highly approve of all you have done. Let Golam Hussan and Abdool-Ruheem Khan undertake to come to the Zoolfikar Fort this morning, and Captain Trevor will be ready there to receive them. Captain Trevor will be in that fort night and day, for some time, to receive overtures from any person; and parties coming in should send a single messenger before them. Khan Shereen Khan is quite right not to leave the Chundawul for a day or two. Tell Naib Sheriff he may safely go security to the Ghilzyes for the payment of the money. When I see Humza Khan I will talk to him about the best plan for the Ghilzye chiefs to wait on his Majesty. You are aware that I would give a reward of 10,000 rupees for the apprehension of Ameen-oollah Khan and such of the Douranee rebel chiefs. If you could see some of the officers of the Hazirbash corps that is just come in with Mahomed Azeem Khan, and give them encouragement, it would be very desirable.”[145]

If there had been any hope of rescuing our force from destruction by honest fighting in the field, the Envoy would not have resorted to such shifts as are indicated in these letters. But he had unhappily discovered that the military commanders had abandoned all hope of beating the enemy, and were thinking of making their way out of the thicket of danger that encompassed them by a path less honourable and less secure. Anxious above all things to escape the disgrace of an open capitulation, which would have humiliated us in the eyes of all the nations of the East, the Envoy exerted all his diplomatic skill to create disunion among our principal enemies—to buy off those whose cupidity was stronger than their hatred—and to offer a reward for the seizure of others.

All this was at least within the range of orthodox diplomacy. But in the meanwhile that other, darker agency, of which I reluctantly spoke at the close of my last chapter, was being brought into operation. On the 11th of November, John Conolly again wrote to Mohun Lal: “Why do you not write? What has become of Meer Hyder? Is he doing anything with Khan Shereen? You never told me whether you had written to Naib Humza. What do the rebels propose doing now? Have you not made any arrangements about the bodies of the murdered officers? Offer 2000 rupees to any one who will take them to cantonments, or 1000 to any one who will bury them. Has not Sir Alexander’s body been found? Give my salaam to the Naib. If Khan Shereen is not inclined to do service, try other Kuzzilbash chiefs independently. Exert yourself. Write to me often, for the news of Kossids is not to be depended on. There is a man called Hadjee Ali, who might be induced by a bribe to try and bring in the heads of one or two of the Mufsids. Endeavour to let him know that 10,000 rupees will be given for each head, or even 15,000 rupees. I have sent to him two or three times.”

Mohun Lal, having by this time disencumbered himself of some of his misgivings on the score of his own personal safety, seems to have set about the work entrusted to him with a zeal that must have abundantly satisfied his employers. Hadjee Ali, and another man named Aga Mahomed Soudah, were the agents to whom he first offered the price of the blood of their unhappy countrymen. But the Moonshee, perplexed by doubts rather than burdened with scruples, did not see very clearly at first how the chiefs were to be taken off; so he wrote to the Envoy that “he could not find out by Lieutenant Conolly’s notes how the rebels are to be assassinated, but the men now employed promise to go into their houses and cut off their heads when they may be without attendants.”

The victims said to have been first marked for the assassin’s knife were Abdoollah Khan and Meer Musjedee. They were known to have been the movers of the attack on Burnes’s house; and were regarded, therefore, as the murderers of the officers who were massacred there on the morning of the outbreak. They were known, too, as the boldest and most unscrupulous of the insurgent chiefs. It seemed, therefore, an act alike of retribution and expediency to strike them down in the full flush of success—in the hey-day of their sanguinary career. There is no need in this chapter to endeavour to penetrate the mist of painful obscurity that envelopes the disappearance of the two chiefs. It will be time to discuss the subject when I come to record their deaths.