History of the War in Afghanistan, Vol. 3 (of 3) / Third Edition

by Sir John William Kaye

But profitless were all these efforts. The few who had escaped the massacre in the passes were captives in the hands of the Afghans; and the Jellalabad officers now asked one another whether the fate of the prisoner were less to be deplored than the fate of the dead. It was hard to believe that they who had butchered thousands of their enemies like sheep, in the passes, would treat with kindness and respect the few who had fallen into their hands. The only hope was, that Afghan avarice might be stronger than Afghan revenge, and that the prisoners might be preserved, like merchandise, and sold for British gold.

They sorrowed for their unhappy countrymen; but there was ever present with them the best remedy for sorrow. They had abundance of work to do. In the midst of their grief for the destruction of the Caubul army, it was necessary to consider in what manner that great catastrophe affected themselves. They reasoned that, perhaps, for some days, the Afghans would be gorging themselves with plunder; dividing the spoil; and burying the corpses of their countrymen; but that, this done, large bodies of troops would be released, and that Akbar Khan might soon be expected to come down upon Jellalabad, with an overwhelming force flushed with victory, and eager to consign them to the terrible fate which had overtaken the British army posted at the capital. It was soon said, that the Sirdar was organising an army, at Lughman, some thirty miles distant from Jellalabad. It was necessary, therefore, to prepare for his reception.

To such good purpose had Broadfoot worked, that the defences of Jellalabad were now fast becoming formidable realities; and the officers said among themselves and wrote to distant friends, that nothing but a failure of provisions, or ammunition, could give the Sirdar a chance of carrying the place. Our fighting men, however, were too few to man the works with good effect. Sale, therefore, embodied the camp-followers; and thus enabled himself to employ his effective troops beyond the walls. Day after day, foraging parties were sent out with good results. Our great requirements were wood and grass. It was expedient to obtain these as expeditiously as possible, for the place might soon be invested; and then the garrison would be thrown back entirely on its internal supplies. About the same time, all the Afghans in Jellalabad, including 200 men of Ferris’s Jezailchee regiment, were ordered to quit the walls, in the belief that in an extremity they would certainly turn against us.

Then news came of Wild’s failure. To the younger and bolder spirits in Sale’s brigade, this was scarcely a disappointment. They had expected little from Wild’s advance. They believed, however, that the disaster would necessarily retard Pollock’s forward movement; and in this there was something discouraging. But they said among themselves that they could hold out till May, that it was then only January, and that it was hard, indeed, if Pollock could not relieve them within the next three months.

But whilst everything appeared thus plain to the younger and the irresponsible officers of the Jellalabad force, difficulties were rising up before the eyes, and doubts were assailing the minds of the responsible chiefs. Already had they begun to question, whether the Government at Calcutta had any intention to make a genuine effort, on a sufficient scale, to relieve them. All that they had heard of the views and measures of Lord Auckland led them to the painful conclusion that they would be left to their fate; at all events, until the arrival of his successor. In the meanwhile, not only was Akbar Khan collecting an army in Lughman, but Shah Soojah himself, acting perhaps under compulsion—perhaps not—was preparing to despatch troops both to Ghuznee and Jellalabad for the expulsion of the Feringhee garrisons. From the Shah nothing was to be expected beyond, at best, a little friendly delay. On the 21st of January, Macgregor received a letter from him. It contained much about the past; it alleged that if the Shah’s advice had not been disregarded, all would have gone well; that he alone could now hold the country, and that he wanted nothing from us but money.[35] This was a long, private letter—somewhat incoherent—the work of the King himself. But another also came from the King, as from the head of the government, asking the English at Jellalabad what were their intentions. “Your people,” it said, in effect, “have concluded a treaty with us, consenting to leave the country. You are still in Jellalabad. What are your intentions? Tell us quickly.” What now was to be done?

The crisis was a perilous one; the responsibility was great. Sale and Macgregor were sorely perplexed. It was plain that by continuing to occupy Jellalabad, they could do nothing to support their comrades in Afghanistan; for the Caubul army had been destroyed, and the Candahar and Ghuznee garrisons would fall back, if at all, on Scinde. They were not bound to support Shah Soojah, for the Shah himself declared that he wanted nothing but our money, and was evidently compromised with his own countrymen by our continued occupation of Jellalabad. The safety of the prisoners appeared more likely to be secured by our departure from Afghanistan than by our continuing in a hostile attitude in one of the chief places of the kingdom. And it was at least doubtful whether the policy of the Government at Calcutta would not be aided rather than embarrassed by the withdrawal of the garrison to Peshawur.

All these considerations weighing heavily on his mind, Sale determined to summon a Council of War. On the 26th of January, the Council met at the General’s quarters. It was composed of the commanding-officers of the different components of his varied force.[36] The political officer, Macgregor, was also a member of the Council. On him devolved the duty of explaining the circumstances which had induced the general to call them together. All the letters and documents bearing upon the great question were read and laid upon the table. Macgregor, acting as spokesman, declared that it was his opinion, and that also of the General, that little was to be hoped from the efforts of Government to relieve them. It was obvious that they must trust to themselves. Shah Soojah appeared to desire their departure; he had virtually, indeed, directed it. Were the members of the Council, he asked, of like opinion with himself and Sale, that it was now their duty to treat with the Shah for the evacuation of the country?

Then Macgregor read to the Council the terms of the proposed letter to the King. It set forth that his Majesty’s letter had been received; that the British held Jellalabad and the country only for the King, and that as it was his desire that they should return to India, of course they were willing to do so. But that after what had happened, it was necessary that the manner and the conditions of their withdrawal should be clearly understood. The terms upon which the garrison of Jellalabad would consent to evacuate the country were these: that they would give four hostages in proof of their sincerity; that the King should send a force to escort them in honour and safety to Jellalabad—that is, with their arms, colours, guns, &c.; that the escort should be commanded by one of the Prince’s own sons; and that carriage and supplies should be furnished for our march; that Mahomed Akbar and his force were to be withdrawn from Lughman before the British quitted Jellalabad; and that hostages should be given by the Afghans to accompany the British force as far as Peshawur, and there to be exchanged for our own hostages and prisoners; these hostages to be a son of the Newab Zemaun Khan—a son of Ameen-oollah Khan—Sooltan Jan, said to be a favourite cousin of Mahomed Akbar—with some Shinwarree and Khyburee chiefs.

Great now was the excitement in the Council; earnest the discourse. Men lifted up their voices together, in vehement debate, eager to speak, little caring to listen. Arguments were enunciated with such warmth of language, that they lost all their argumentative force. It was apparent, however, that the feelings of the majority of the Council were in favour of withdrawal. There was a prevailing sense amongst them that they had been abandoned by the Government at Calcutta; that there was no intention to maintain the supremacy of our arms in Afghanistan; that Shah Soojah did not wish them to remain there; and that, if they could make their own way to Peshawur, they would best fulfil the desires of their masters, and that their first care should be to further the views of the Government which they served. And yet their indignation ran high against that Government, which had abandoned them in the hour of their need.

But against all this there was one officer who steadfastly set his face; who had viewed with horror and detestation the proposal to capitulate, and flung the paper of terms indignantly on the ground. This was George Broadfoot, of the Sappers. Eagerly he lifted up his voice against the proposal; eagerly he declared it to be impossible that the Government should leave them to their fate, and do nothing to restore our lost national reputation in Afghanistan; eagerly he set forth to his comrades that a new Governor-General was coming, doubtless with new counsels, from England; that the Duke of Wellington was in power at home, and that so inglorious a policy could never ultimately prevail. But he lacked, in that conjuncture, the self-restraint, the moderation of language, and the calmness of utterance which might have secured for him respectful attention. They said that he was violent, and he was. Even his best friends said afterwards, that his warmth was unbecoming, and, doubtless, it weakened his cause. It was soon apparent to him that in the existing temper of the council, he could do nothing to change their resolves. He determined, therefore, to endeavour to delay the final resolution, and, with this object proposed an adjournment of the Council. The proposal was carried; the Council was dissolved, and the members went to their quarters or to their posts, to talk, or brood over what had happened, and to fortify themselves with new arguments in support of the opinions which they had determined to maintain.