The Story of the Guides Part 9

"You lie!" yelled the headman. "You are a spy of the accursed British Government, and out of your own mouth will I condemn you. Here, Yusuf, get a stout rope and let the boy down the well; there isn't more than half a yard of water in it, and we will soon see whether the stranger lies or not."

Here was a nice predicament! But Abdul Mujid faced the peril like a man, and held to the faint hope that no one would recognise the instrument even if they found it. It was a false hope. In a few minutes up came the boy, gleefully flourishing the d.a.m.ning evidence, and there was not one who doubted what it was. Probably in the circ.u.mstances, whatever the article it would have had the same effect, for the case was already prejudiced.

"Now then, thou son of a burnt father, what sayest thou?" screamed the headman. "Thou art a spy as I said, and shalt surely die. _Hein!_ what sayest thou?"

"You speak truth, father," replied the sepoy. "I am making a map for the British Government; but this is only a little portion of it, and if you object I will leave out this part altogether, and then there can be no cause of offence."

"Go to," sneered the headman, "I shall take a much more effective way of closing the matter by killing you at once. Here, Yusuf, bring my gun, and you, young men, see that this misbegotten Kafir does not escape."

So Yusuf went off for the gun, and Abdul Mujid turned his face towards Mecca, and said the evening prayer. Then hope came to him from above and he said to the headman: "Be not hasty; I am a follower of the Prophet as also are ye. Give me till the morning that I may make my peace with Allah."

"It is well said," interposed a bystander; "he is alone and has no chance of escape. Let us therefore not kill him like a dog or an infidel; but let him make his peace with Allah, and then in the morning he shall die."

And so it was settled, and Abdul Mujid was bound hand and foot, and laid upon a _charpoy_[23]; and beside him, with a drawn sword at his side, lay down the man who was to guard him, the two on the same bed.

[23] _Charpoy_, the common bed of the country.

All night long Abdul Mujid lay racking his brains for a means of escape, and found none; and then just before dawn came Allah to his help.

Nudging his bedfellow hard, the sepoy said: "Awake, sluggard, I wish to go and pray."

"Well, go and pray," grumbled the guard.

"Go and pray!" replied Abdul Mujid; "how can I go and pray with my arms and feet tied? Can I make the salutations and genuflections ordered in the Koran while thus strapped up?"

"No, I suppose you can't," answered the guard. "But you also don't suppose I am going to leave my warm quilt on this bitterly cold morning to guard you while you pray?"

"That is not the least necessary," said Abdul Mujid; "if you will free one hand I will spread my own carpet by the bed, and you can thus guard me without getting up, for my legs are tied, and therefore I cannot escape. a.s.suredly Allah hath spread the cloak of stupidity and sloth over this fellow," he said to himself, as his janitor rolled over, and lazily muttering "Oh very well, anything for a little peace," to the sepoy's intense delight fumblingly untied one of his hands.

What followed was like a streak of lightning from heaven. In one flash Abdul Mujid had seized the naked sword, and the slothful sentry, before he could draw another breath, lay dead to all below; in another flash he had severed his bonds, and was making the best of his way across the fields. Nor did he halt, night or day, till weary and exhausted he fell down and slept by the first milestone that proclaimed that he was again in British territory.

Nearly a year afterwards a motley band of ruffians might have been seen walking up the main road at Mardan towards the Court-House. It was a deputation from a far-away country come to discuss matters with the political officer. At their head on a sorry steed rode the chief person: at the roadside by the post-office, idly watching the party file past, was a man of the Guides; and when the eyes of those two, the Guide and the man on the pony, met, they both remembered the village well, and one recollected how nearly it was his last night on earth.

"May you never grow weary," said the Guide in the polite formula of the road.

"May your riches ever increase," came the stock reply.

"And how about that man on the charpoy?" bawled Abdul Mujid.

"Oh, he's all right, having by the mercy of G.o.d a thick skull," came the reply.

"Shahbash! come and feast with me when your business is finished.

I will make preparations at the cook-shop at the head of the bazaar."

And so ended in peace and jollification an adventure which at one time looked much more like cold-blooded murder and a string of vendettas.

CHAPTER XII

THE RELIEF OF CHITRAL

The anxiety of great events in South Africa has somewhat dimmed the recollection of our smaller troubles in previous years; but perhaps there are some who can recall the feeling of tense suspense that enthralled the nation during the spring of 1895.

Two hundred miles from our borders in an inaccessible, and hitherto almost unheard of, valley lay besieged a little force of Indian soldiers, under the command of a sprinkling of British officers. Between the beleaguered garrison and the nearest support lay great chains of the highest mountains in the world, still covered thick in snow, rivers deep and strong and of incredible treachery, roads that were mere goat-tracks carried along the face of precipices, or following a shingly bed between stupendous walls of rock, many made doubly perilous by craftily prepared stone-shoots. To add to the difficulties of the task climatic variations of extraordinary diversity had to be overcome, for troops might one day be freezing on a pa.s.s twenty thousand feet above the sea, and on another sweltering under the tropical heat of the valley below; days pa.s.sed under the scorching rays of an Eastern sun might be succeeded by nights without shelter under storms of cold and pitiless rain. Finally one of the two relief columns had to pa.s.s through two hundred miles of unmapped and unexplored country, inhabited by armed fanatical tribes fiercely opposed to the pa.s.sage of the troops while the other, weak in numbers, and marching _en l'air_ hundreds of miles from any support, was a veritable forlorn hope.

It speaks highly for the mobilisation arrangements of the Indian Army that within eleven days a corps of all arms, twenty-five thousand strong, had derailed at a little roadside station, and under Sir Robert Low had marched forty-two miles to the frontier, fought a decisive action, and forced the first barrier of mountains on its road to Chitral. Unhappily it does not lie within the region of this story to relate how the gallant forlorn hope under Colonel Kelly, overcoming stupendous difficulties, made its way to the succour of the sore beset garrison, but history has already done justice to that gallant achievement. Here, in a regimental narrative we are naturally restricted to the column to which the Guides belonged.

On the opening day of the campaign it fell to the Guides' infantry to turn the right flank of the enemy, having, supported by the 4th Sikhs, captured after five hours' hard fighting a commanding mountain, to this day called the Guides' Hill, which completely dominated and turned the Malakand position. It was next day, however, that a weak squadron of the Guides' cavalry had the opportunity of performing a notable service.

After the pa.s.sage of the Malakand the road runs down between gently sloping spurs into the Swat Valley. At the end of one of these spurs was a rocky outcrop, which would now be called a _kopje_, and holding this was a regiment of Dogras, while in support, under cover, lay the best part of a brigade of infantry. Just under the tail end of the kopje stood dismounted a squadron, fifty strong, of the Guides, under Captain Adams and Lieutenant Baldwin. The neighbouring hills were covered with dense ma.s.ses of the enemy, firing heavily, and severely pressing the Dogras. Evening was drawing on and the day too far advanced for the British force to commit itself to any very forward or extended operations.

At this moment a temporary non-combatant, the well-known Roddy Owen, then acting as a newspaper correspondent, in the course of doing a little scouting on his own account discovered a large force of the enemy, estimated at two thousand men, committed to the open with the evident intention of enveloping the left flank of the Dogras. This news he at once communicated to Captain Adams, and that officer rode back a short distance to take the General's orders. Just as he was returning, Lieutenant Baldwin, seeing that the moment to strike had arrived, boldly took the initiative and set off on his gallant venture. The effect was little short of magical, and established irrevocably the _moral_ of cavalry and the _arme blanche_ for the rest of the campaign.

The moment the little squadron of the Guides appeared round the corner, yelling the well-known war-whoop of the Indian soldier, the whole of the forward movement of the enemy's ma.s.ses ceased. There was a moment of hesitation, another of delay, and then the whole body broke and fled, fiercely pursued by the cavalry. The execution done was considerable, but greater still was the moral effect. From that day forth a mounted man was a power in the land.

The Relief Force now pushed across the Swat River, and over the Saram range of mountains, and came in due course to the formidable Panjkora River, formidable not so much from its size, or breadth, but from its great rapidity and uncertainty. In a single night, fed by melting snow from the higher levels, it would rise from twelve to fourteen feet. And this is exactly what happened at a critical moment, when it fell to the honour of the Guides to avert a serious disaster.

Before the Relief Force could cross it was necessary to bridge the river, and this was done at a narrow part. Directly it was completed the Guides were ordered across to hold the bridge-head, and thus cover the pa.s.sage of the main body next morning. That the defence might not be a pa.s.sive one only, Lieutenant-Colonel Fred Battye, who was commanding, was ordered at dawn to push out, destroy all the neighbouring villages, and turn the enemy out of all positions from which they had been operating during the construction of the bridge, and from which they could hara.s.s the pa.s.sage of the force. During the night a freshet came down, the river rose fourteen feet, and the newly finished bridge was swept away. The Guides were thus isolated on the far bank, but getting no orders to the contrary, and very possibly thinking that to remain inactive was to invite unwelcome attention to their condition, Colonel Battye decided to adhere to the original programme. Therefore leaving two companies at the site of the broken bridge, he at six in the morning moved out to drive back the enemy's outposts, and destroy such villages as were troublesome.

Up to nine o'clock there was no opposition to speak of. Colonel Battye then formed the five companies of the Guides, which const.i.tuted his force, into three small columns, and was proceeding to carry out more extended operations, when, from the high ground now occupied, dense ma.s.ses of the enemy, afterwards officially estimated at from seven to ten thousand, were seen rapidly approaching his right flank. It had evidently become known to the enemy that the bridge was broken, and that the Guides were cut off by an impa.s.sable river from all support. The matter was immediately reported by heliograph to Sir Robert Low, and orders as promptly sent for the Guides to retire on the bridge-head.

It is on an occasion like this that the true fighting value of a regiment shows itself. Great as is the glory of those who, surrounded by comrades, are borne on the tide of great events to victory, still greener are the laurels that adorn the standards of those who, amidst great tribulation and fighting against overwhelming odds, keep untarnished their ancient fame.

Before the anxious eyes of an army, so near yet so powerless to help, the Guides commenced their retirement. With the great mountains as an amphitheatre the drama began to unfold itself before the gaze of waiting thousands. At first so far away were they, so few, so scattered, and clad to match the colour of the hills, that only the strongest gla.s.ses could make out the position of the Guides; but apparent to the naked eye of all was the great straggling ma.s.s which was falling with relentless swiftness, guillotine-like, on the narrow neck of the communications with the bridge. With cool intrepid courage, with a deliberation which appeared almost exasperating to the onlookers, Colonel Battye and his men took up the challenge. Little parties of soldiers could be descried slowly sauntering back, a few yards only, then disappearing amongst the rocks with a rattle of rifle-fire. Then back came more little parties of soldiers, all seemingly sauntering, all with the long sunny day before them. And after them bounded great waves of men in blue, and men in white, only to break and stagger back before those little clumps of rock in which the rearmost soldiers lay. "Get back, get back! d.a.m.n you, why don't you get back?" shouted the spectators on the eastern bank in impotent excitement. But no word of this reached the Guides on the slopes of the still far-off mountain-side; nor would they have heeded had they heard, for they had been born and bred to the two simple maxims, "Be fiery quick in attack, but deadly slow in retirement." And so slowly back they came, and in their wake lay strewn the white and blue figures, all huddled up, or stark and flat.

The retirement now brought the regiment down the spur of a lofty hill which forms the angle where the Jandul River flows into the Panjkora.

This hill is to the south of the Jandul, while the bridge-head was to the north. Thus to reach their entrenchment the Guides had to retire down the spur they were now on, and to cross the Jandul.

It was now noon, and at about this time the enemy's ma.s.ses were seen to divide in two; one-half keeping to the right, so as to support the attack on the Guides, while the other column continued down the Jandul, so as to cut the regiment off from its bridge-head. Foot by foot (to the spectators it seemed inch by inch) the different companies retired alternatively, fiercely a.s.sailed on all hands, yet coolly firing volley after volley, relinquishing quietly and almost imperceptibly one strong position, only to take up another a few yards back.

At last the impatient spectators on the left bank of the Panjkora had a chance of helping, for the enemy were now within range of the mountain-guns, and the steady and accurate fire of these greatly relieved the pressure. At the same time the two companies of the Guides in the entrenchment, seeing that the enemy's left column was closing down, moved out to check their advance, and to stretch out to the rest of the regiment a helping hand. The whole of the 2nd Brigade also lined their bank of the Panjkora, and prepared with flank fire to help the Guides, when they reached the foot of the spur. Here it would have to cross several hundred yards of level ground, on which the green barley was standing waist-high, ford the Jandul, about three feet deep, and then across more open fields to the friendly bridge-head. This naturally was the most difficult part of the operation, and in executing it Colonel Fred Battye, the fourth of the heroic brothers to be killed in action, fell mortally wounded. He was, as might be expected from one of his race, always at the point of danger throughout the retirement, and as he crossed the open zone among the last, a sharp-shooter at close range, from behind a withered tree, fired the fatal shot.

It was on this open ground that the extraordinary bravery of the enemy was most brilliantly shown. Standard-bearers with reckless gallantry could be seen rushing to certain destruction, falling perhaps within ten yards of the line of the Guides; men, who had used up all their ammunition, would rush forward with large rocks and hurl them at the soldiers, courting instant death. Nothing could damp their ardour, or check the fury of their a.s.saults. Even after the Guides had crossed the river, and the enemy were under a severe flank fire from the Gordon Highlanders and King's Own Scottish Borderers, they dashed into the stream, where each man stood out as clear as a bullseye on a target, and attempted to close again. But not a man got across, so steady and well directed was the flank fire of the British regiments. This welcome diversion enabled the Guides to complete the retirement into their entrenchment at the bridge-head, and there make rapid preparation for the attack that must follow; for though the enemy had lost six hundred men, their spirit was by no means broken.

Reinforcements consisting of two companies of the 4th Sikhs, and the Devonshire Regiment Maxim gun, were sent across after much labour by means of a little skin raft that only held two at a time. The near bank was also _sungared_ and held by the 2nd Brigade and the Derajat mountain battery, which at eight hundred yards' range could fire over the heads of those at the bridge-head. Several officers of the Guides' cavalry also volunteered to cross over and help their comrades, for in a night attack it was a matter of holding their own, covering fire from the near bank being too dangerous an expedient.

The Guides, who were now under that good and cheery soldier Fred.

Campbell, put out no picquets, so as to keep clear the field of fire, and every man slept, or sat awake, at his fighting station with his rifle in his hand. The enemy could be heard close by in large numbers, hidden by a fold in the ground, and directly darkness set in they began yelling and tom-tomming in the most approved fashion. This was to work up any flagging spirits that there might be, and to exalt the courage of all, for two thousand chosen warriors, sword in hand, lay ready in the standing corn, to make a desperate dash at the given signal, which was to be the first peep of the crescent moon over the mountains, calculated for about midnight. There was some warlike cunning in this, for when a moon is about to rise every weary watcher is looking for it during the last moments, and then looking down again would find everything dark as the pit's mouth by comparison. In those few seconds the a.s.sailants meant to bound across the short intervening s.p.a.ce, and come to close grips with the enemy who had staved them off all day and half the night.

It was then that the use of one of the resources of science stood the British in good stead, and probably saved the lives of many hundreds.

The officer commanding the Derajat battery, peering anxiously through the darkness, and perplexed to know what was happening, bethought him to throw a star sh.e.l.l over the Guides' entrenchment, so as to light up the ground beyond. The effect was magical. "What new devilment is this?"

exclaimed the brave but ignorant tribesmen. And when another, and yet another, came, they said: "This is an invention of the Evil One; it is magic, and will cast a spell over us. We cannot fight against devils such as these."

And so those few harmless fireworks effected the same purpose as a storm of shot and sh.e.l.l. All that vast throng melted away, and only a few of the braver sort held post till morning. But before going they inflicted one great loss, mortally wounding the gifted Captain Peebles, the only officer who knew the working of a Maxim gun, then new to the army.

The remainder of the campaign was a matter of a few days. How Kelly, with his gallant regiment, the 32nd Pioneers, pushed on from the north, overcoming stupendous difficulties; how a strong force of levies under the Khan of Dir was thrust on from the south; how Aylmer, the brave and resourceful Sapper, working night and day threw a suspension bridge of telegraph wire across the Panjkora; how Sir Robert Low, crossing with his whole force, fought a decisive and conclusive battle at Mundah; and how thus, by a fine strategic combination, worked from widely divergent bases, Sir George White effected in the course of seventeen days the relief of the sore beset garrison of Chitral, are recorded amongst the many and sterling achievements of the army of India.

Amongst the trophies and standards brought down by the Guides was a solid bra.s.s cannon of tremendous weight captured at Mundah. In a mountainous country where there are no roads, and for a weight far beyond the carrying capacity of a pack animal, there appeared to be no alternative to leaving the gun behind. But rather than do this the men volunteered to carry it themselves, and thus twenty men at a time carried the gun while their comrades carried a double load of arms and ammunition. The gun now stands at Mardan near the memorial to the officers and men who fell in defence of the Kabul Emba.s.sy, and on it is engraved in Persian the curious and bombastic inscription:--