Life in India has often been described as one long and listless yawn, born of weariness, heat, and indolence; but it was certainly not so at this crisis on the borders of Afghanistan, which, to the average British mind, is considered a part of India.
An army was now detailed to punish the infatuated fanatics who had destroyed our Embassy, but, though infatuated, they were also
'Souls made of fire and children of the sun,
With whom revenge is virtue!'
So we now resolved to take a leaf out of their own book, and have our revenge in turn.
Once more our troops would have to toil along the stony and boulder-strewn banks of the gloomy Khyber, up and down the awful chasms of the Lundi Khana Kotal, by the mountain clefts and deep defiles of Khoord Cabul, with every prospect of being harassed, perhaps decimated, by thousands of hardy hillmen—the Khyberees, Afreedees, Shinwarris, Mohmonds, Mongols, and Ghilzies.
The gallant and active Sir Donald Stewart again seized Candahar; Massey occupied the Shutargardan Pass; Baker took Kushi, and Roberts—whose name is second to none in glory—was soon ready to begin that campaign which all hoped would end in the conquest of the blood-stained Cabul.
The Viceroy of India made the greatest efforts to grapple with the new difficulty, and hurry forward the army that was to uphold the power of the fickle Ameer as our nominal ally—for nominal indeed he was—and there was every prospect of his being slain by his insurgent troops, led by Mahmoud Shah and other sirdirs, unless he took to flight, or put himself at their head against us as intruders and unbelievers.
'This devil of an Ameer,' remarked old Colonel Spatterdash, 'is true to the words of Swift—"The two maxims of every great man are always to keep his countenance, and never to keep his word."
Three columns were to advance simultaneously, and open communication between Cabul and Peshawur, but we shall confine ourselves briefly to that under Sir Frederick Roberts, which consisted of three batteries of Artillery, a squadron of H.M. 9th Lancers, some Bengal and Punjaub Cavalry, the Gordon and Albany Highlanders, the 67th Regiment, 3rd Sikhs, 23rd Pioneers, and Spatterdash's Punjaubees—making a total of barely eight thousand men.
Scarlet, blue, and gold, had for the time been discarded by the cavalry, and, like most of the infantry, they wore karkee, or mud-coloured costumes—uniforms they could scarcely be called—with the inevitable tropical helmet, and putties or linen leg bandages. The Scottish infantry, however, retained their tartans, wearing respectively the green Gordon and red Royal Stuart; but the Lancers laid aside their scarlet and white bannerettes.