FOOTNOTES:
[11] It must be borne in mind that forts are not carried by eastern nations with the celerity of modern art. A siege of two or three years' duration being a matter of frequent occurrence.
[12] "Koh-i-noor" means Mountain of Light, and is applied to a diamond something less than a pigeon's egg!
[13] Koutub means, literally, the pole. The title of the emperor of that name was Koutub-ul-dien, or the pole-star of religion. He reigned at Lahore and Delhi, and died about A.D. 1210.
[14] This magic garden had been imported from Lahore, and planted during the night.
[15] Viz., the news then received of the Persians having retired from Herat.
[16] The jhow is a shrub resembling the yew tree, and affords good food for the camels.
[17] This contingent consisted of raw Hindoo levies raised for Shah Soojah's guard, in Afghanistan, amounting to about five thousand men and four guns.
ARRIVAL AT BAHAWULPORE—SIR HENRY FANE'S INTERVIEW WITH THE KHAN—PROGRESS TO SCINDE ACROSS THE INDUS.
On the 29th of December, the cavalry-brigade reached Bahawulpore, in the vicinity of which the country is richly cultivated. The view was enlivened by hordes of Bahawul Khan's wild-looking cavalry, encamped amongst the groves of palm and date trees in the neighbourhood.
We marched into our camp near the city under a heavy fall of rain, and were met by a son of the khan, who came to pay his respects to Sir Willoughby Cotton, whilst his father visited Sir Henry Fane on board his boats, which kept parallel with the army during its progress.
On the 31st, Sir Henry returned the visit, attended by a numerous suite of officers. Bahawul Khan made no efforts to display any splendour; perhaps, he considered it politic to affect poverty in the presence of the British chief. The conversation was as interesting as usual on the like occasions, and ran, as well as I can remember, nearly as follows:—
Sir Henry.—I come as the emissary of the British government, to offer you their friendship.
B. Khan.—I am sensible of the condescension displayed towards me, both by them and yourself, in granting this interview.
Sir Henry.—The British government are just and equitable, faithful to their friends, terrible to their enemies, (looking very dignified, and rather fierce.)
B. Khan.—I fully appreciate the magnitude of the British name, and see their power. All I have is theirs, and I am your slave.
Sir Henry.—Now, talk we of other matters. Is not the climate unusually cold for this season of the year, at Bahawulpore?
B. Khan.—It is, undoubtedly; but at the present moment, I feel neither cold nor damp, whilst basking in the sunshine of your presence.
Sir Henry was looking blue with cold, and stiff with dignity; so the khan must have been of a fiery temperament if he spoke the truth.
Such was the substance of the conversation that passed between the two potentates; but setting bombast aside, Bahawul Khan has always expressed to those officers who visited his capital the utmost respect for the British, and an anxiety to preserve a sincere alliance. His decision has been unquestionably politic; for, by placing himself under British protection, he has saved his country from the rapacity of his formidable neighbours, the Sikhs.
The city of Bahawulpore is of considerable extent, and surrounded by a dilapidated mud wall, about twelve feet in height and four in thickness. The principal houses are built of brick, but huddled so closely together, as to engender filth and heat to an unnecessary degree. The khan's palace is in the centre of the town, and presents as mean an exterior as the other houses. Of the interior, I can form no estimate, not having visited it. The narrow bazaars were thronged all day; and trade seemed to be flourishing briskly amongst the twenty thousand inhabitants which Bahawulpore is said to contain.
Woollens, hardware, and a variety of fruit, seemed to be the principal articles exposed for sale; but the prevalent commodity is undoubtedly filth.
The men are certainly a larger, better looking, and more brawny race than that of the upper provinces of Bengal.
The women are so carefully wrapped in veils, that I was enabled to catch only a faint glimpse of their faces, and a very indistinct one of their figures; but the damsels of the East usually evince greater anxiety to conceal their face than any other part of their persons.
The only Bahawulpore fair ones I had a good opportunity of seeing and speaking to, were some dancing-girls, attending the khan's party, whilst in our camp. They were lively creatures, with very fair skins, laughing black eyes, and the airy, graceful figures that are almost the universal characteristic of Eastern belles.
The city is about three miles distant from the Sutlej, which must ere long be the grand channel of communication between the upper provinces of Bengal and the Bombay presidency. Its turbid surface, now seldom unruffled by aught save the occasional plunge of a startled alligator, will soon resound to the cries of busy boatmen and the plash of innumerable oars.
On New Year's day, 1839, we resumed our march, bidding adieu to the Sutlej, which diverges hence a little to the west, and unites its waters with the Chinab, which, thirty miles below this confluence, falls into the Indus.
As we advanced, the desert continued on our left, cheerless as ever; but at every ten or twelve miles, we found a halting-place at some village, near which were usually some fields of grain, and invariably good water.
The stunted shrubs continued to afford us ample firewood, and the occasional hamlets grain enough to feed our horses without indenting on the commissariat stores.
Khanpore, eight marches from Bahawulpore, is a city of considerable extent, and occasionally the residence of Bahawul Khan, who visits it on account of the abundance of wild boar and hog deer frequenting the neighbouring jungles, many of which we saw in our shooting-excursions, and occasionally on the line of march.
The governor fired a royal salute as the cavalry-brigade marched through the city, which compliment was cheaply returned (ammunition being valuable) by our band striking up "God save the king!"—who the monarchs were, to whom these royal honours were paid, we were unable to ascertain.
Here, many of our servants and camp-followers deserted during the night; nor were we able to recover any of the runaways. There is a track from hence to Hissar, across the desert, which they probably took, being weary of the long march, and frightened by the account of some fruit-merchants from Caubul, in camp, who expatiated on the cold of Afghanistan and the ferocity of its inhabitants.
Five marches beyond this place, brought us to the frontiers of the Ameers of Scinde, where we were joined by Sir Alexander Burnes, who seemed dubious of the peaceful disposition of the Hydrabad Ameers, though their cousin of Khyrpoor professed his readiness to co-operate in the free navigation of the Indus.
This part of Upper Scinde is overgrown with thick jungle, which is cleared in the neighbourhood of villages, to make room for crops of jewar, coarse sugar-cane, and wheat. The natives seem a hardy and industrious race; but the tribes of Beloochees, from the mountains on the right bank of the Indus, infest the country, and are its bane, exercising a despotic authority over the unfortunate and peaceable Scindians, and plundering travellers and merchants of all countries who venture this road without a sufficient protection. No sooner had we crossed the boundary-line, than we were cautioned not to venture singly any distance from camp, as these marauders were sure to be hovering in the vicinity, on the look-out for plunder; and several camp-followers were daily murdered by these savages for the sake of the few pieces of silver in their possession, or, failing these, for the clothes they wore; yet in spite of these numerous examples, the roving propensities of our followers were not easily overcome.
Hitherto, no communication had been received from Sir John Keane, who was to land at Kurachee, one of the mouths of the Indus, and advance by the right bank of the river to Shikarpore, having previously arranged the terms of a treaty with the Ameers of Hydrabad, either amicably or with the bayonet.
When we had arrived within three marches of Bukkur Island and fort, where it was intended that the army should cross the Indus, intelligence was received from Sir John Keane, announcing his arrival at Tatta, a large town on the right bank, about forty miles below Hydrabad;[18] he had experienced great difficulties even in reaching that place, from want of carriage, and the unfriendly disposition of the Ameers.
Hydrabad was fortified in the usual native fashion, and was said to be garrisoned by more than twenty thousand Beloochees: confiding in these troops, (or, at their dictation,) the Ameer had rejected the terms proposed by the political agent, Colonel Pottinger, which were—
1st. The payment of thirty lakhs of rupees, the arrears of tribute due to Shah Soojah.
2ndly. To throw open, and promote by every means in their power, the free navigation of the Indus.
3rdly. To support a force of four thousand troops to be quartered in Scinde.
It appeared far from surprising that the Ameers, who had always been noted for a jealousy of intercourse with strangers, and especially with the British, should have felt averse to comply with terms which rendered Scinde, at one stroke of the pen, a mere dependency on our colossal Eastern empire.
On the march towards Bukkur, the jungle was so thick on each side of the road, that the Scindians, had they been disposed to annoy us, had many opportunities of effecting that object almost with impunity. One morning, about daybreak, the advanced guard missed the road, and led nearly the whole army astray in the woods, where the paths branching in many directions, induced each party to wander according to their fancy. Col. Ninny, an officer of remarkable intelligence, who accompanied the party with which I was wandering, pushed resolutely forward, insisting that the path he followed must be the right one. "But surely, sir," remonstrated one of the officers, "this cannot be the way, for we now face the rising sun, and our proper direction is nearly west." The intellectual features of the gallant colonel were contracted with ineffable scorn, as he replied, "And pray, sir, what has the sun got to do with our road?"
Though blind at the time to the acuteness of the observation, I have since dwelt upon it, as singularly characteristic of that gifted individual, who, with a steady perseverance, has braved obstacles, which, (as in the present case,) judged by the fallacious test of reason, would have appeared to ordinary men insuperable! Unhappily, in this instance, the combinations of that great mind were not allowed time for development, as an aide-de-camp rode up, and pointing to the rear, indicated that the road lay in that direction, and the general would be happy to see us on it.
On the morning of the 25th of January we marched up to the town of Rohree and encamped on the banks of the Indus.
Rohree is built on a flinty rock that rises abruptly on the left side of the river, which had hitherto been low and full of dangerous quicksands. A range of bare hills, trending to the south, run from Rohree, throughout lower Scinde, and terminate in the Delta, a few miles from the sea. From the southern part of the town, a thick grove of bastard date-trees extends many miles along the river's banks, adding considerably to the beauty of the view. In the river, opposite to Rohree, and between it and Sukkur, stands the important island and fortress of Bukkur. The site is low and sandy, but the fort, which is built of brick, stands about thirty feet in height, and is commanded from either bank, as the Indus is less than eight hundred yards in breadth at this season.
From Sukkur, on the opposite shore, the bank rises to a considerable elevation, opposing a barrier to the encroachment of the waters at the periods of inundation. On the left shore, the whole country is intersected by watercourses, made for the purpose of retaining the water after the inundation, which is said to cover a large extent of country.
A few miles from Rohree are the ruins of the ancient city of Alore, which present to the view an extensive field of devastation. They afford little interest to the traveller, as the few edifices standing are so dilapidated, and the imagery so nearly effaced, as to baffle the researches of the most patient antiquarian. The indefatigable Burnes has pursued the subject with his usual intelligence, but such matters afford more scope for conjecture than research, as the earlier periods of Indian history are deeply involved in darkness and fable. We were, however, informed by a learned aide-de-camp of the commander-in-chief, that Alexander the Great had halted there for two days, and he even indicated the position of the royal pavilion with as much confidence as if he had been present on the occasion, which placed the question beyond a doubt.
The river was now a scene of much activity, the chief engineer being engaged in collecting boats to form a bridge to Sukkur, which required a numerous assemblage, the distance to Bukkur island being nearly 400 yards, though beyond it the channel was very narrow.
Ameer Roostum Khan, to whom this part of Scinde belonged, was residing at Khyrpore, about fifteen miles from Rohree, and came into camp the day after our arrival, to visit the commander-in-chief. The treaty above mentioned was shown to him, and he laid it on his head in token of obedience. The hostile disposition of his relatives at Hydrabad being alluded to, he urged the improbability of their offering any resistance, and entreated permission to negotiate with them.
Sir Henry Fane replied that the day for any mediation had passed, and broke up the Durbar, by inviting the Ameer to ride with him and see the troops, which would march the following day towards Hydrabad, to co-operate with Sir John Keane in enforcing the terms proposed.
Meer Roostum, mounting his horse, accompanied Sir Henry along the line, appearing far from at his ease whilst inspecting the display of force which reduced him to a vassal, and was intended to operate against his kinsmen.
Arrangements were then made for the cession of Bukkur island fort, to be garrisoned by a British force, which he assented to with great reluctance, but it was then too late to raise objections, as the net for Scinde was cast, and he had become entangled in its meshes. The second and third day, however, passed without any intimation being given that the fort was at our service, and the force intended for Hydrabad having been delayed in consequence, Sir Henry resolved to wait no longer. On the evening of the 30th, a sepoy regiment, accompanied by Sir Willoughby Cotton, embarked from Rohree, to occupy Bukkur, and two guns were posted above the town to command the fort in case of resistance.
The squadron to which I belonged was that evening on picket near the town, from whence we had a favourable position for observing the operations of this memorable siege. The boats were off, and we now fancied we saw the garrison training a large gun on the walls to bear against the fleet. All stood in breathless expectation for the signal which would, in all probability, kindle far and wide the devastating flames of war.
The troops now reached the island, and as yet no shot had been fired; admittance was demanded, and no answer returned. Sir Willoughby ordered a skin filled with powder to be attached to the gate and fired, and whilst a party were in the act of obeying this order, the portals were suddenly thrown open, and we observed the garrison, amounting perhaps to twenty in number, not in the act of levelling their matchlocks at the intruders, but more prudently sallying from a side postern, and quietly dropping down the river towards Hydrabad.
The transition was so sudden and absurd, that a general burst of laughter issued from the spectators at sight of the formidable garrison, which was expected to make so daring a resistance.
That evening the fort was occupied by a regiment of native infantry, and before the sun went down we beheld the British flag slowly unfold itself to the evening breeze, and float for the first time in authority over the waters of the majestic Indus.
Early next morning, the cavalry, artillery, and first brigade of infantry, under Colonel Sale, commenced their march towards Hydrabad. Accounts were rife in camp that a force of six or seven thousand Beloochees were lying in ambush to attack us on the march, or fail on our camp during the night, and therefore the cavalry threw out parties in advance to feel for these hidden savages. For the first six miles, we marched in a thick grove of bastard date trees, the road through which was flanked by mud walls about six feet high—a glorious chance for the Beloochee tirailleurs, which they unwisely neglected. Emerging from this grove, we entered a well-cultivated, though woody country, and plainly discovered the traces of a camp broken up that morning. The force (whatever it might have been) were no doubt retreating before us upon Hydrabad.
Accounts were this day received that Sir John Keane had been detained some days at Jerrikh, two marches from Hydrabad, but had arrived at Kotra, on the right bank of the Indus, and nearly opposite Hydrabad. The following day, native reports reached us that the Beloochees had floated across the Indus on rafts supported on Kedgeree pots,[19] and routed the British forces; but we unanimously concluded that the Ameers were on far too bad terms with his excellency to think of crossing the river and taking such pot luck with the British.
Shah Soojah, who had reached Shikarpore, with his contingent, some days before our arrival at Rohree, was now marching on the right bank of the Indus towards Larkhana, which place (a city of the Hydrabad Ameers) he occupied with little resistance.
No baggage being allowed to precede our column on the line of march, and the weather becoming exceedingly hot, we suffered severely from the heat before our tents came up, which they rarely did before mid-day, and on a long march not till considerably later.
The soil in this district is fertile and well cultivated, and the population must be considerable, judging from the numerous well-inhabited villages we passed, where the natives regarded us in a friendly light, and brought abundance of supplies into camp. The rule of the Ameers is far from popular amongst the Scindians; and the tribes of marauding Beloochees, whom the Ameers confessed their inability to restrain, are of course viewed with horror by the peaceful agriculturists, who therefore hailed us in the light of deliverers. Their intercourse with our camp-followers, who, having long worn the collar, were no doubt willing to see it encircle strange necks also, tended to encourage this amicable disposition.
The fifth march from Rohree, we closed with the river near Noona Goth, where the lower range of the Hala mountains were distinctly seen, trending, apparently, in a direct line towards the Indus. These mountains, the Scindians told us, were about forty miles distant. The seventh march, we reached Kanjaree, a frontier town of the Hydrabad district, where, in the course of the morning, a courier arrived from Sir J. Keane, announcing the submission of the Hydrabad Ameers. They had held out, it appeared, until the appearance of the British forces on the bank of the river opposite the capital, when, after frequent unsuccessful negotiations, a treaty was at length concluded by Colonel Pottinger, with the modification that no British troops should be quartered in Hydrabad. In signing this treaty, the Ameers declared they were acting in opposition to the wishes of their soldiery, and that in doing so they sealed irrevocably their own doom.
Thus ended our chance of a golden harvest in Hydrabad, then known to be one of the richest cities of the East; the policy which saved it for a few years ended in annexing the lands to the British possessions, and in consigning the rulers to captivity: but the merits of this subject now form a matter of debate between two of the most gallant and accomplished soldiers of the age, Sir C. Napier and Colonel Outram.
We now turned our heads and thoughts towards Afghanistan with a pleasanter prospect for the ensuing summer than that of passing it under canvas in Scinde, which is notoriously one of the hottest and most unhealthy parts of the world.[20]
We reached Rohree in a week, retracing the route by which we had advanced, and found that the bridge of boats across the Indus had been completed, and that the part of our force which had remained behind at Rohree, commenced the transit on the 14th of February.
Having halted three days, we crossed the river at sunrise in single files, dismounted, and leading our horses, such being deemed the safest method. The passage was effected without a single accident, even to the baggage. The bridge was firmly constructed, and well moored, reflecting credit on Captain Thompson, of the Bengal engineers, under whose direction it had been formed. The stream near the left bank ran with great velocity; but as we approached Bukkur Island, there was little or none; beyond the fort, the bridge was scarcely a hundred yards in length, and the current very weak. Four hundred and ninety yards were mentioned, in general orders, as the distance bridged; but the portion of the island we crossed must have been upwards of two hundred and fifty yards in breadth.
We now, for the first time, marched in rear of the army; and on our arrival at Shikarpore, found the whole force, including Shah Soojah and his new levies, encamped round the city.
Shikarpore stands in a barren and desolate-looking plain, which well assorts with the white and mouldering mud walls surrounding the place. This was the general depôt of supplies for the army; but in lieu of the commodious and well-stocked shops we had expected to see, we found the bazaar little superior to Bahawulpore, or even Rohree, except being somewhat larger and more thronged, if possible, than that of the former place.
On entering the busy scene, the first object that strikes the visitor is the pale, business-like money-changer, his anxious forehead bedaubed with the white paint of his caste, peering over the pyramids of silver and copper heaped ostentatiously before him. Opposite, wrangling with half a dozen sepoys, in voices that might wake the dead, stands the noisy, energetic cloth-merchant, extolling his wares amidst the altercation with a fluency that would break the heart of a London Jew clothesman.
On each side, as you struggle onward, are squatted, in the peculiar Oriental fashion, vendors of dried fruits, seeds, spices, opium, cum plurimis aliis; but your good-natured Arab charger halts in despair at the shop where yonder greasy cook is flourishing in his long, bony hands a wooden ladle, with which he bedaubs, in oily costume, a hissing mass of kabobs, or kidneys, which are emitting a savoury odour throughout that quarter of the bazaar, and engaging the attention of an impenetrable cloud of half-famished-looking wretches watching the inviting process. On extricating your embarrassed steed from this difficulty, and moving up another bazaar, at right angles to the former, the ears are saluted with the stunning and monotonous clang proceeding from the anvils of armorers and blacksmiths, who continue their noisy labour with an assiduity that, conjointly with their hissing fires and diabolical countenances, give an unpleasant presentiment of the world below.
Speckle the scene with a number of savage-looking fellows in dingy dresses, with matchlocks slung over their shoulders, a pair of business-like pistols, and a greasy-handled knife stuck in their belt, whilst a broad, iron-handled tolwar brings up the rear, and you will complete the best picture I can afford of Shikarpore bazaar, with its lazy, lounging soldiery.