CHAPTER XVI.

THE MORNING OF THE RETREAT.

War, dread war, is one of the greatest games in life! "It is a passion even in the lower ranks of the soldiery; while for those in command it is the most intoxicating, the most imperious of passions. Where shall we find a wider field for energy of character, for the calculations of intellect and the flashes of genius? In him who is inflamed by glory, hunger, thirst, wounds, incessantly impending death itself, produce a sort of intoxication; the sudden combination of intermediate causes with foreseen chances, throw into this exalted game a never ceasing interest, equal to the emotion excited at long intervals by the most terrible situations of life!"

In the movement we are about to narrate, there was no room for the display of generalship, though more than enough for endurance and the most heroic courage; but some such enthusiastic reflections as these were floating in the mind of Denzil, when, by the prolonged notes of the trumpet, and the long roll on the drum, the entire troops in the Cantonments, horse, foot, and artillery, began to get under arms on the morning of the 6th of January, to commence that which eventually proved to be one of the most disastrous retreats on record.

How often had the unfortunate Trevor, Waller, Burgoyne, and others, exclaimed, in their weariness of heart--

"Let us fight our way down, destroying everything ere we leave the Cantonments, and at least one-third of us shall reach Jellalabad!" And now the time had come.

It had been finally arranged by the Staff at Headquarters, to pay more than fourteen lacs* of rupees to Ackbar Khan, Ameen Oolah Khan, Shireen Khan of the Kussilbashes, the Ghilzie Chiefs, and other treacherous villains, that our troops might march unmolested; Osman Khan undertaking, with his tribe, to escort them so far as Peshawur, the gate of British India, towards Central India. The money was negotiated on the spot by a Cashmere merchant and some Hindoo schroffs or bankers in Cabul. In vain did Major Pottinger and many other officers raise their voices indignantly against this measure of the feeble and aged Elphinstone.

* A lac is one hundred thousand.

"Never before," they exclaimed, "were British soldiers compelled to _buy_ a way out of an enemy's country; to repay with gold the debt contracted by steel!"

But the bargain was struck; Ackbar Khan and his allies were avariciously resolute that it should be adhered to by us, at least.

Silently and quickly the troops, 4,500 strong, were formed by Regiments and Brigades; but the confusion around them, in the streets of bungalows or huts, was great, from the number and terror of the camp-followers, now diminished by death, sickness, or desertion, to somewhere about 12,000. Hammocks had been prepared wherein to carry the sick and wounded through the passes; but as the snowfall was deep, this was thought to be impracticable; so in virtue of the species of armistice, nearly the whole of these unfortunate creatures, officers, soldiers, and camp followers had been conveyed into the city, where they were to be left to the care--to the mercy, of the Afghans, certain medical officers casting lots for the perilous duty of remaining behind to attend them, and these devoted Samaritans proved to be Drs. Berwick and Campbell of the 54th Infantry.

As a foretaste of what was soon to happen, the bearers, returning from the city with the litters, were fired upon, and all shot down by the Afghans; and on this very morning, as the grey dawn began to steal down the mountains from their reddened summits to the plain, the dark corpses of the Hindoo dhooley-wallahs could be seen dotting all the expanse of snow between the Cantonments and Cabul; while, to still the growing clamour, three pieces of cannon, and the greater portion of our treasure, were made over to the rabble.

In rear of his company, awaiting the order to march, Denzil stood leaning on his sword and muffled in a furred poshteen which he wore above his uniform, as the thermometer was below zero and all the troops were in those blue great-coats usually worn by our soldiers in India. The Europeans looked pale, thin, and haggard, and the dark Bengal sepoys seemed of a livid or pea-green tint, as the cold daylight stole in.

How often Denzil had watched the great sun of the Eastern world rise red and fiery above those eternally snow clad peaks of Kohistan; and now he was, he hoped, looking on its rising for the last time there.

Alas! many more were looking on it, that were never to see it set.

Notwithstanding the desperation of their affairs, many were in excellent spirits at the prospect of a change of quarters; and he heard the voice of Rose Trecarrel, talking gaily to one or two officers, as she, Mabel and some other ladies came forth mounted, to ride for surer protection among the cavalry. With them were Lady Sale and the widowed Lady Macnaghten, who had vainly offered princely bribes for her husband's mutilated body, and had now to depart with the harrowing knowledge that it was still exposed in the public marketplace. Some of the ladies were on camels, others in dhooleys with their children nestling beside them for warmth; but the Trecarrels were mounted on fine Arab horses, and wore sheep-skin spencers called _neemches_ over their riding habits, for comfort and also for disguise, which they had further to aid by having turbans twisted round their heads, so Rose could not help laughing heartily at the oddity of her attire.

"Good-morning," said she, in her sweetest tone, to Denzil, who had been watching her wistfully.

He was as a very slave in her presence, he loved her so, and now when she held out her hand, chill though the air, ungloved (for a moment of course) the presence of others alone prevented him from, perhaps, kissing it.

"You have a cold journey before you," said he.

"And you a most toilsome march afoot. Heaven tempers the wind to the shorn lamb, we are told; I wish it would temper the wind to me," said Rose, with her teeth, short, beautiful and white, chattering as she spoke.

"What have you been doing for all these days past? In what part of the Cantonments have you hidden yourself?" she asked in a low and soft voice.

"Oh--you speak to me kindly--almost tenderly, do you?" said Denzil, with bitterness in his tone; "have you obtained leave from your friend on the Staff to address me!"

He looked at her with eyes in whose expression anger and sorrow mingled, while she looked at him smiling and deprecatory, more than half flattered by his jealous outburst amid the terrors that menaced them all.

"You are surely in a frightful humour this morning," said she; "I shall certainly pity the Afghans if you fall foul of any of them."

"Cold-hearted Rose," replied Denzil, who was in no humour for jesting; "I would not have your ungenerous nature, to hold that title of which, as yet, fate deprives me, though that might make you love me again--even if you ever loved me at all."

"Is this a comedy, Denzil?" said she, smiling more than ever.

"I would to God we had never met," said Denzil in a low voice, while his lip quivered, for he conceived that the secret story of his family had affected her towards him; "you have been but amusing yourself with me; passing the hours that would have been dull here, in playing with my heart--my feelings."

"Why, Denzil Devereaux--you talk like a girl; who ever heard of a man's heart or feelings being trifled with?" said she, with a little silvery laugh as she moved her horse, to speak with some one else.

"Dear Mabel," said Waller in a tender and earnest voice, as his _fiancée_ checked her Arab for a moment by his side, and gave him her hand with a bright confiding smile; "to-day begins, I hope, the first stage of our long homeward journey."

"'England, with all thy faults, I love thee still,'" said she, laughing as she rejoined her sister, and her lover, who was somewhat of a critic, thought she was the handsomest girl he had ever seen on horseback.

Bob and Mabel had already begun to fashion mental pictures of a home-life in England, a happy home, a dream life; a pretty house in some sequestered spot, where the old Cornish elm trees might echo to merry children's voices, while the days went by in peace and happiness; but here the troops were called to "attention," and General Trecarrel, who was "mounted," led his daughters to where the advanced guard was posted, and where all the ladies were placed among the cavalry, to the great delight of a couple of cornets who complacently stroked the fair fluff that would in time become moustaches, and begged them not to be in the least alarmed, as they had a most efficient escort.

"Rose," urged Mabel, who had more power of character than her sister and less of folly in her disposition, "it is cruel of you to make such a victim of that poor lad, Devereaux--he is so handsome too."

"That is the reason; but do I ask him to love me?"

"No; you only lure him into doing so; you are incorrigible, and laugh at being so."

"There is no need to think of marrying--the idea is absurd; though one may get up a liking."

"Oh fie!" said Mabel, smiling in spite of herself.

"How sensible and solid we have become since Waller came to the point, and made it all square with papa."

"He has certainly asked me to become his," replied Mabel, with a bright, soft smile.

"I would rather be my _own_," said the laughing coquette.

This whispered conversation was now interrupted by a terrific yell outside the Cantonment walls; it rent the air, and the ladies grew pale as they looked inquiringly in each other's faces. General Trecarrel grew very white, and instinctively drew his sword. On that morning, when he knelt in prayer beside his daughters, ere they left their abode to mount, he had been thinking that in such a place and under such circumstances as theirs, how happy was the man who was alone in the world; how to be envied the soldier, who had only his firelock and knapsack to care for; who had only himself to think of, and had no dread for the sighs, the tears, and the danger of those he loved best on earth!

Thousands of Afghans and fanatical Ghazees were now crowding close to the walls, impatient for plunder and rapine, hissing like serpents, spitting like tiger-cats, and brandishing their bare weapons with an air of ferocity and grimace peculiar to Orientals only; but as yet contenting themselves with throwing stones, which the Afghans do with a strength and precision exclusively their own. By one of these Sergeant Treherne was struck nearly senseless to the earth, when in the act of receiving some order from Waller, who became, for him, unusually excited.

"D--n it!" he exclaimed, "why don't we slew round a bastion gun, and by one dose of grape send a few of these turbaned warriors by the short cut to Paradise, or elsewhere!"

"I should like to see a few of them tied to the lips of six-pounders--for matters are looking decidedly serious," added Polwhele, as the red glare of flames, with columns of lurid and murky smoke, now shot high into the snowy air from the houses of the Envoy, Captain Trevor, General Trecarrel, and others, which had been fired by the predatory horsemen who covered all the plain.

An order was now given to fix bayonets and load with ball-cartridge--the artillery with round shot and grape!

"The troops are to move off from the right of regiments, in open column of sections," cried Audley Trevelyan, repeating the feeble voice of the old General, as he rode from one slender column to another.

"The front to be diminished, if necessary, when we enter the pass," added Major Thain; "Her Majesty's 44th Foot, one squadron of Irregular Horse and three mountain-guns, under Brigadier Anquetil, to form the advance guard. The 54th, the Shah's 6th, the 5th Light Cavalry, and four Horse Artillery guns, will cover the rear."

These corps, already reduced to skeletons, were speedily formed in front and rear of the main column, with which went the baggage, the remaining treasure, the rest of the artillery, and some sick and wounded in litters, and on yaboos or Cabul ponies.

At eight o'clock precisely, the order was given to march, and fresh yells, as if all the fiends of Pandemonium had broken loose, resounded from the plain, as the rear-gates of the Cantonment were thrown open; the bands struck up the "British Grenadiers," and the advanced guard began to defile out upon the road that was to lead them, as they hoped, to Peshawur.

A half-stifled shriek burst from all the ladies, and they implored the troopers of the Irregular Horse to close about them for protection, for the scene around was one replete with terror, a confused and mighty mass of dark, ferocious visages, black, gleaming eyes, white, grinning teeth, and flashing weapons; so that even the usually irrepressible Rose Trecarrel was completely silent, subdued, and so awed, that she could scarcely breathe.

From the hills of Beymaru the odious Ackbar Khan and others, his adherents, were looking down on our toil worn soldiers as they issued forth with all the honours of war, the colours flying on the wind, with all their brilliant silk and gold embroidery; the bright bayonets pouring onwards like a stream of rippling steel above the dark columns, for, as already stated, the troops were in their greatcoats; the neighing of the horses, the dull rumble of the artillery wheels, the clatter of sponge and rammer, and of round-shot in the caissons; and over all, the varied music of the bands, the shrill yet sweet notes of the fifes and the regularly measured resonance of the drums, came upward to his listening ear, with the yells of the Afghans, and the report of the occasional firearms which they began to discharge among the helpless camp followers in the very wantonness of mischief, or Asiatic lust of cruelty.

"Let them go," hissed Ackbar, through his clenched teeth; "the hungry vultures and the wild Khyberees are alike in waiting; the dark wings and the avenging sword of Azrael will soon be above them in the air, and the jackals and the Ghoule Babian will batten on their bones!"

And some there were with him, whose eyes seemed chiefly attracted by the group of white ladies who rode on horses or camels, amid the brilliant ranks of the Irregular Cavalry.

"_Dare_ they meddle with us, who are British troops, and all in order for battle?" was the confident thought of many a brave officer, yet of all those 16,500 human beings who issued on that eventful morning from the fortified camp at Cabul, only TWO were fated to reach Jellalabad alive, and that city is only ninety miles distant.*

* There quitted the cantonments, Europeans, 690; cavalry, 970; native infantry, 2840; camp-followers, 12,000. The Queen's 44th mustered 600 of all ranks.