Loe raamatut: «Raiders of the Sarhad», lehekülg 3

On the way back to Robat we stopped at a post where I was accommodated in a room with a domed mud roof, which had been whitewashed. As I lay on my blankets in the morning, gazing up at the roof, I noticed that the dome was covered with small black spots. As the light grew stronger I realised that they were flies, thousands of them, in a comatose condition, owing to the cold of the night.

As the morning advanced, swallows flew in by the open door, and, fluttering round the dome, picked off the helpless flies one by one, until not a single one was left.

Directly we reached Robat Landon and I set to work on our plans. After considerable thought we determined to make an attempt to capture Khwash, the capital of the Sarhad, and so endeavour to entice the Raiders off our lines of communication. But it took some time to get the guns and food supplies to Robat, for Robat was quite one hundred miles from Nasaratabad. It was also necessary to get in enough supplies for a month at least, as it was useless placing reliance on anything reaching us from India. In other words we had to be quite independent of all lines of communication.

At last the two guns, and supplies, under Major MacGowan, reached Robat, where were now collected about a dozen or fifteen of Idu's Chagai Levies, and seventeen Sawars of the 28th Light Cavalry under Lieutenant Hirst. But I still had no infantry. That, however, I hoped to get at Kacha, the garrison of which consisted of a hundred sepoys of the 19th Punjab Infantry, and two maxim guns.

Therefore, Landon and I arranged to go to Kacha for the infantry, while MacGowan proceeded with his two guns, seventeen cavalrymen and supplies, direct to Mirjawa, via Saindak. We would then join him there, as soon as we had collected the infantry for our advance on Khwash.

Our real movements had been kept marvellously secret, whilst the news of the five thousand fully armed troops under my command had been spread far and near by Idu's spies; the consequence being that the Raiders were all quietly retiring, from raids upon our lines of communication, to organise their own lashkars (armies), and their own defence.

Thus, and at any rate temporarily, the lines of communication of our scattered frontier posts were cleared, and without striking a blow. One small objective had at least been accomplished.

While MacGowan's little force was making its way to Mirjawa, Landon and I rode to Kacha, reaching that place on the 2nd of April. There Lieutenant Yates, of the 12th Pioneers, paraded all the men he could lay his hands on in front of the mess-house, and, as we rode up, gave the order for the men to present arms.

The result was a shock.

I dismounted and called on all those men who had ever fired a shot in their lives to fall out.

To my dismay only nine men obeyed.

Lieutenant Yates told me that he had done his best with the men, but the greater proportion of them were mere raw recruits. It was a bitter disappointment, and it was very obvious that a great deal of brick-making had to be done without straw. But there was nothing else for it. These were the only men, trained or untrained, available for the expedition, and I had to be thankful for them.

I took the nine trained soldiers, sixty-five of the untrained recruits, and two maxim guns belonging to the 12th Pioneers, and, with these, Landon and I made our way to the rendezvous at Mirjawa, where we all met on the evening of the 6th of April.

CHAPTER IV
BLUFF AND ARMS

Ladis and its fort – A force without arms – First sight of the enemy – Shah Sawar and more bluff – Battle – Bluff succeeds – Casualties – Bad news from the North – Idu's proposition – Jiand's stragglers – Jiand's white flag

The following day we marched to Ladis, reaching that place just before nightfall, and without incident.

Ladis is a camping place situated in a comparatively fertile tract of country fully four thousand feet above sea-level on the slopes of the famous Koh-i-taftan. A considerable stream flows through the valley. If this stream were exploited for irrigation purposes the whole district could be made most productive and profitable. The climate is far better than in the greater part of the Sarhad, and there is an abundance of chikor and other partridges, ibex, and wolves.

On the right bank of the stream is a fine old deserted fort, which is far more substantially built than the occupied forts of Khwash and Jalk, but it has been ruined by the disintegrating effect of the water on the banks on which it is built. A passage at the base of it indicates that at one time an underground tunnel connected the fort, which lies on the right bank, with the left bank, thus affording a means of escape, or of reinforcement, for the garrison.

We found, waiting for us at Ladis, a band of about fifty Rekis, who had come to join the expedition in answer to an urgent appeal from Idu.

I found they had no arms, ammunition or equipment, and asked them where their rifles were.

"We have none, Sahib," their spokesman replied. "We thought the General Sahib would give us rifles."

I was obliged to tell them that we had no spare arms, but as every extra man would be an asset in our great game of bluff I was not going to let them go, and would find some means of utilising their services.

At first they were greatly disappointed to find that they were not going to be awarded a free issue of British rifles, and commented on the absurdity of a force of the size they saw before them attempting to attack the great Raider Chief, Jiand Khan.

"Why, Sahib," the spokesman said, "Jiand has fully two thousand well-armed men, all out to meet you. They will wipe you out in about two minutes."

If it came to an open fight we all knew that this was literally true. But we were relying on bluff and luck.

The local political officer, a Baluch, was entirely of the Rekis' way of thinking, and did his utmost to persuade us to turn back and save our skins. But we had not come so far to turn back. Orders were, therefore, given to go forward.

Fortunately for us, and before we struck camp early on the following morning, another political officer arrived to supersede him – a man of totally different calibre. Khan Bahadur, the Sarhad-dar (the chief political officer of all matters concerning the Sarhad) was full of fight, greatly taken with our game of bluff, and fully prepared to enter into its spirit, the only spirit which could possibly bring such an enterprise as ours to a successful conclusion.

From Ladis the force marched South in the direction of Khwash, covering about eighteen miles. This was not bad going when it is remembered that the average rate for a camel caravan over rough sandy country of this sort is about ten or twelve miles a day. We camped that night in a narrow valley, surrounded by hills, and with a good water supply.

The following day the march was resumed, and we were beginning to wonder how soon we should get in touch with Jiand's forces when our advance scouts reported that the enemy was just ahead, and encamped on the low hills running out in spurs from the Koh-i-Taftan.

Our force was halted, and, riding forward myself, I dismounted and took a good look at the enemy's position. This appeared to be, as I had to admit to myself, a very strong one, and, as far as I could gather, it looked as if it had been no idle report that Jiand's force numbered something like two thousand men. In any case we were in for it now, and must take our chances as they came.

I rode back, ordered the mountain guns to be brought up to some low hills on the left, and the cavalry to move forward under cover to the right.

The transport camels, numbering about six hundred, now came up, under cover, and were put in charge of the sixty-five untrained infantrymen. The two machine guns were brought up to a favourable position in the centre, and our little force was now fully deployed for action.

At this moment a man mounted on a camel was seen coming from the enemy's camp, accompanied by a man on foot carrying a white flag of truce.

When the messenger had approached nearer the Sarhad-dar exclaimed, "Why, it is Shah Sawar himself!"

Now Shah Sawar was a very famous Raider Chief, and a relation of Jiand's. At one time he had been the owner and governor of Khwash, but it appears that he had greatly coveted, as a bride, a very beautiful lady known as the Gul-Bibi, or Rose Lady. As usual, negotiations were conducted between the prospective bridegroom and the lady's nearest male relative, who, in this instance, happened to be a somewhat weak-charactered man named Mahommed-Hassan. The price that Mahommed-Hassan placed on the Gul-Bibi was no less than the ownership of Khwash itself. Shaw Sawar's infatuation drove him to pay the price, though, from what I came to know of the ruffian afterwards, I am perfectly convinced that he had every intention of recovering his patrimony as soon as a favourable opportunity presented itself.

When he rode up to me, preceded by the flag of truce, I was struck by his fine appearance.

He announced that he had come with a message from his kinsman, Jiand Khan, to the effect that, "If the General Sahib, accompanied by only one man, would meet Jiand half-way, Jiand, also accompanied by one man, would meet him and discuss the situation."

Of course the very last thing I wanted to do was to prolong any negotiations. Every moment that passed increased the danger that our bluff would be discovered, for it was quite obvious that, up to date, Jiand believed in the existence of the great force being brought against him under a British General, as reported to him by Idu's spies. Therefore, it was necessary to bluster, and answer indignantly, "How dare you come to a British General with any such proposal from a scoundrel like Jiand? Go back and tell him that I am coming, not half-way, but the whole way, and at once. I will give you time to take him my message. I will then fire a shot into the air as the signal that hostilities have begun, and the attack, which will wipe him out, will commence."

Shah Sawar was visibly impressed, and, after a few moments' hesitation, beckoned to the man who had come with him. After a whispered colloquy the latter returned to Jiand with the General Sahib's message. Shah Sawar himself said that he intended to remain with me.

He was obviously cowed and bewildered. He firmly believed we had a great army in the low hills behind us, and deemed it safer to remain with us as a prisoner than to return to Jiand's camp and engage in a battle against five thousand troops – which he could not see from his present position!

Whilst the messenger was racing back to Jiand the seventeen cavalrymen were ordered to show themselves, and as they topped the hills, apparently the advance guard of a great force, their big horses looked most imposing.

Lieutenant Hirst, commanding them, was directed to make a pretence of threatening the left flank and rear of Jiand's position, but ordered not to go too close!

Then, as soon as information came that Jiand's messenger had reached his camp – some six hundred yards distant – and had had time to deliver his message, one of the Chagai Levies was ordered to fire a shot into the air as a signal that the battle had begun.

He pulled his trigger, but nothing happened.

I told him to try again.

Again he pulled the trigger, and this time with the desired result.

The battle had begun.

The order to charge was given. The cavalry moved rapidly to the right, the machine guns rattled, and the infantry – nine trained men and a handful of Chagai Levies, rushed forward in the centre.

What happened in the enemy's camp I only learned afterwards, but it appears to have been as follows: Jiand, seeing the cavalry advancing as if to threaten his retreat, really believed that the mythical army of five thousand was commencing its attack in full force, and, mounting his own camel, he gave an order which literally amounted to a "sauve qui peut." In any case, and in a moment, his force was scattered in a frenzy of terror, and in full retreat, amongst the hills and valleys.

For a moment Landon and I looked at each other. Then, as we realised that the great bluff had succeeded, we rushed forward, with a loud whoop, closely accompanied by the Sarhad-dar. As we were mounted, we got ahead of the others, and actually overtook a number of Jiand's men retreating down a nullah. We emptied our revolvers into them, and some of our infantry coming up, their terror was increased, for they thought they had been trapped by overwhelming numbers.

The enemy had suffered a loss of seven killed. On our side we had one man wounded, and I honestly believe he was wounded by one of our own untrained infantrymen, who, in the excitement and enthusiasm of the moment, had disobeyed orders and joined in the chase.

By the evening there was no one left in sight to chase, so we halted and made preparations to camp where we were. Only a few hours before we had known that if the truth of our numbers had leaked out not one of us would live till night to tell the tale. Fortunately the secret had been well kept, and, although we had only accounted for seven of the enemy, it was obvious we had won a decisive victory. Jiand's entire force was scattered and demoralised, and it would take him a considerable time, even when he did learn how he had been tricked, to collect them again.

He was a very notable man, with enormous power and prestige, not only with his own tribe, the Yarmahommedzais, but with all the nomad tribes of the district, and was regarded as a personage by the Governments of both India and of Persia. His defeat would be a very bitter pill for him to swallow. Although he was looked on by the Ismailzais and the Gamshadzais as a sort of over-lord, even of their own Chiefs, there was always great rivalry between the various tribes, and he would know that Juma Khan, whilst outwardly sympathising with him, would, in reality, be jubilant.

Accordingly, and for the sake of his own prestige, he must make the most of the forces brought against him. That very evening I learned from one of his men, who had been overtaken and brought back as a prisoner, that he had given out that he had had seven hundred men killed and amongst the number was his own favourite son. The death of this son, I afterwards found, was a bitter blow to the famous old Chief, and I have always been sorry that he credited my hand as being the one which had struck him down, though this was absolutely untrue.

Seven men multiplied by a hundred was not bad as a free advertisement. But I determined to go one better.

"Seven hundred!" I retorted to the trembling prisoner. "Nonsense! If you had said seven thousand, it would be far nearer the mark."

Now the great thing was to make the most of our almost bloodless victory near Koh-i-taftan, and pursue Jiand and his men as far as possible amongst the rocky fastnesses of the hills into which they had fled. If only the old ruffian could be persuaded to surrender before the bluff was called, it would be just possible to make the other tribes think that the whole game was up, and so make terms with us; thus obviating a long and harassing campaign.

So we pursued him for two days, as far as Kamalabad, his own special winter headquarters, nearly overtaking him. But he just eluded us as we entered the place by riding out at the other end, and so escaped into the Morpeish Hills, where it was quite hopeless to think of following him with our very small force.

On the other hand, if we left him there, he became an hourly menace. It could be only a question of time before Jiand would be bound to learn how he had been duped. He would then collect his men once more, summon the other tribes to his assistance, and wipe out our little force as he might have done, had he only known, at Koh-i-taftan.

Moreover, news had just reached us of an untoward little incident which had occurred away to the West of Robat. A small British force had been operating in the vicinity of Nasaratabad-sippi (not to be confused with Nasaratabad in Seistan) and this force had been attacked in overwhelming numbers by the Ismailzais, under Juma Khan. It had suffered considerable loss, not only in men, but in mules, rifles, and, most important of all, ammunition. The British officer commanding had fought ably and had averted disaster, but the losses had been sufficient to create a rumour that Juma Khan had scored an exaggerated victory.

This must undoubtedly be avenged, and the only hope of doing so was to strike at once, and whilst Jiand's forces were still scattered and demoralised.

Landon, the Sarhad-dar, Idu and I immediately took counsel together. We discussed the reports of the various scouts who had been sent out in every direction. It appeared that the redoubtable Jiand had received a great shock, and that his nerves were thoroughly shattered. He had dearly loved his son, and the loss was a great grief. He also firmly believed he had lost a great number of his followers in killed and wounded, and his pride was suffering badly in the loss of his prestige as a practically unbeaten Chief.

Then Idu evolved a brilliant scheme by which he believed we should be able to lure Jiand, in his present broken state, to surrender. Kamalabad, where we were at present encamped, and which was Jiand's favourite winter residence, is one of the few spots in the Sarhad well irrigated and consequently well cultivated. The place is freely intersected with karezes, from which the fields are systematically watered. Moreover, the valley is watered on its Western side by a stream which gushes out of the ground, and, after flowing past Gazo, winds round the Northern slopes of the Morpeish Hills and the Sar-i-drokan, to lose itself soon afterwards in the sand.

Kamalabad is not, strictly speaking, a village, as there are no houses there. But it becomes densely populated when Jiand's nomad families camp there in their jugis during the winter months.

Beyond this fertile valley, which for half the year is teeming with life, though it is practically deserted during the summer months, the Morpeish Hills rise abruptly and precipitately out of the plain to a height of ten thousand feet.

On the farther side of these hills, and shut in beyond by the Sar-i-drokan Range, rising to about the same height as the Morpeish Hills, and running parallel with them for a distance of about seventy-five miles, is another valley, Jiand's favourite summer haunt.

It will thus be seen that it was utterly impossible to think of attempting to drive Jiand out of his refuge. Even supposing that we succeeded in dislodging him from the Morpeish Hills he would at once make for the Sar-i-drokan, a range which would be still more difficult to negotiate, apart from the fact that it would draw us farther and farther from our base and any hope of supplies. But it was evident that something must be done, and done quickly. Idu's proposal was, therefore, the only one offering any hope of success.

All the crops of wheat and barley in the Kamalabad Valley were then at their full growth, though still green, and it was upon these crops, when harvested, that Jiand and the entire Yarmahommedzai tribe relied for their yearly bread supply.

Idu's idea was substantially this, that we should send a message to Jiand, whilst he still believed himself pursued by a vast force, summon him to surrender forthwith, and tell him that, if he failed to comply with the instant summons, the whole of his crops would be destroyed. Anyhow the idea was worth trying.

Accordingly, trustworthy messengers were sent to him telling him that if he surrendered himself on behalf of his tribe, before sundown on the following day, the lives of himself and his followers would be safe, and his crops would be spared. If, however, he failed to surrender by the appointed time, six hundred camels, which had already arrived with the advance guard of the great force operating against him, would be turned loose in his fields, and, as he well knew, would make very short work of his crops.

The hours that passed between the sending out of the messengers, and the time limit for Jiand's surrender, were very anxious ones. Would bluff continue to carry us through, or had the bubble been pricked?

During that day news reached us from stragglers, who came trembling to join us at Kamalabad, that many of the old people and women of Jiand's tribe were in great distress. During the headlong flight of himself and his fighting men the weaklings were left behind, and, in their terror, they had fled into all sorts of hiding places where there was neither water nor food. Orders were immediately given that they were to be reassured and succoured in every way, and that food and water were to be supplied to them, also jugis, wherever possible, to shelter them.

The day passed and the time limit was rapidly running out when, between four and five o'clock in the afternoon, we saw a little group of men emerge from the Morpeish Hills, carrying a white flag.

These men approached and announced that they had come as emissaries from Jiand Khan, who was on his way to surrender. He admitted his defeat by the overwhelming numbers brought against him, said he knew it was no use continuing to fight against them, and that his heart was broken by the loss of his son. For the sake of his people he must save the crops or they would surely die. Therefore, if the General Sahib swore on his honour that the lives of himself and his men would be safe, and that his crops would be spared, he would surrender.