There were about thirty white women and children, from tiny babies to grandmothers, and Betty Parker gave me a knowing smile and a wave as she trotted past. Thinks I, wait till tonight, there'll be one snug blanket-roll on the Jallalabad road anyway.
Then came Shelton, blown and weary but cursing as loud as ever, on his charger, and the three Indian regiments of foot, black faces, red coats and white trousers, their naked feet churning up the slush. And behind them the herd - for that was what it was - of baggage animals, lowing and roaring with their tottering bundles and creaking carts.
There were hundreds of camels, and the stench was furious; they and the mules and ponies churned the cantonment road into a sea of liquid chocolate, through which the hordes of camp followers and their families waded up to the knee, babbling and shouting. There were thousands of them, men, women, and children, with no order whatever, their few belongings carried on their backs, and all in great consternation at the thought of the march back to India; no proper provision had been made for feeding them on the way, or quartering them at night. They were apparently just to forage what they could and sleep in the drifts.
This great brown mob surged by, and then came the rearguard of Indian infantry and a few cavalry troops. The great procession was all strung out across the plain to the river, a sprawling, humming mass that stumbled slowly through the snow; steam rose from it like smoke.
And then last of all Elphy Bey's entourage came out to canter up the line and take its place with the main body beside Shelton, but Elphy was already beset by doubts, and I heard him debating loudly with Grant whether it might not be better to delay setting off.
Indeed, he actually sent a messenger to stop the vanguard at the river, but Mackenzie deliberately disobeyed and pushed on; Elphy wrung his hands and cried: "He mustn't do it! Tell Mackenzie to stop, I say!" but by that time Mac was over the bridge, so Elphy had to give up and come along with the rest.
We were no sooner out of the compound than the Afghans were in. The crowds that had been watching had moved round slowly, keeping a safe distance from us, but now they rushed into the cantonments, yelling and burning, looting what was left in the houses and even opening fire on the rearguard. There was some rough work at the gates, and a few Indian troopers were knocked from their saddles and butchered before the rest got clear.
One effect of this was to cause a panic among the porters and camp-followers, many of whom flung away their loads and ran for dear life. The snow on either side of the road was soon dotted with bundles and sacks, and it has been reckoned that a good quarter of our stores were lost this way before we had even reached the river.
With the mob hanging on the heels of the column we got across, marched past the Bala Hissar, and turned on to the Jallalabad road.
We were travelling at a snail's pace, but already some of the Indian servants were beginning to fall out, plumping down and wailing in the snow, while the bolder spirits among the Afghan spectators came close to jeer and pelt us with stones. There was some scuffling and a shot or two, but in the main the Kabulis just seemed glad to let us go - and so far we were glad enough to be going. If we had even dreamed what lay ahead we would have turned back as one, even if all Afghanistan had been pursuing, but we did not know.
On Elphy's instructions Mackenzie and I and our troops kept up a constant patrol along the flanks of the column, to discourage the Afghans from coming too close and prevent straggling. Some bodies of Afghans were moving along with us, but well out on either side of the road, and we kept a sharp eye on them. One of these groups, drawn up on a little knoll, took my eye; I decided to keep well clear of them, until I heard my name called, and who should be sitting at their head, large as life, but Akbar Khan.
My first instinct was to turn tail for the column, but he rode a little forward from his companions, calling to me, and presently I edged my pony up to within a short pistol shot of him. He was all in his steel back-and-breast, with his spiked helmet and green turban, and smiling all over his face.
"What the devil do you want?" says I, beckoning Sergeant Hudson up beside me.
"To bid you God speed and a good journey, old friend," says he, quite cheerful. "Also to give you a little advice."
"If it's the kind you gave Trevor and McNaghten, I don't need it,"
says I.
"As God is my judge," says he, "that was no fault of mine. I would have spared him, as I would spare all of you, and be your friend. For this reason, Flashman huzoor, I regret to see you marching off before the escort is ready that I was assembling for your safety."
"We've seen some of your escorts before," says I. "We'll do very well on our own."
He rode closer, shaking his head. "You do not under-stand. I, and many of us, wish you well, but if you go off to Jallalabad before I have taken proper measures for your protection on the march, why then, it is no fault of mine if you meet disaster. I cannot control the Ghazis, or the Gilzais."
He seemed serious, and quite sincere. To this day I cannot be sure whether Akbar was a complete knave or a fairly honest man caught up in a stream of circumstances which he could not resist. But I wasn't trusting him in a hurry, after what had happened.
"What d'ye want us to do?" says I. "Sit down in the snow and wait for you to round up an escort while we freeze to death?" I wheeled my pony round. "If you have any proposals to make, send them to Elfistan Sahib, but I doubt if he'll listen to 'em. Man alive, your damned Kabulis have been sniping at our rearguard already; how's that for keeping faith?"
I was for riding off, but he suddenly spurred up closer yet.
"Flashman," says he, speaking very fast and low. "Don't be a fool.
Unless Elfistan Sahib lets me help him, by providing an escort in exchange for hostages, you may none of you reach Jallalabad. You can be one of those hostages; I swear on the grave of my mother you would be safe. If Elfistan Sahib will wait, it shall be arranged. Tell him this, and let him send you out again with a reply."
He was so earnest that I was half-convinced. I imagine now that what he was chiefly interested in was hostages, but it is also possible that he genuinely believed that he could not control his tribesmen, and that we should be massacred in the passes. If that happened, Afghanistan might well see another British army the following year, and it would be shooting as it came. At the time, however, I was more concerned about his interest in me.
"Why should you want to preserve my life?" says I. "What do you owe me?"
"We have been friends," says he, grinning that sudden grin of his.
"Also I admired the compliments you paid me as you rode away from Mohammed Khan's fort the other day."
"They weren't meant to flatter you," says I.
"The insults of an enemy are a tribute to the brave," laughs he.
"Think on what I have said, Flashman. And tell Elfistan Sahib."
He waved and rode back up the hill, and the last I saw of his troop they were following slowly on our flank, the tips of their spears winking on the snowy hillside.
All that afternoon we toiled on, and we were long short of Khoord-Kabul when night came freezing down. The Afghans hung on our flanks, and when men - aye, and women and children - dropped by the wayside, they were pounced on as soon as the column had passed and murdered. The Afghans saw that our chiefs were not prepared to fight back, so they snapped at our heels, making little sorties on the baggage train, cutting up the native drivers, and scattering into the rocks only when our cavalry approached. Already the column was falling into utter disorder; the main body gave no thought to the thousands of native camp-followers, who were bitterly affected by the cold and want of food; hundreds fell by the way, so that in our wake there was a litter not only of bundles and baggage, but of corpses. And this was within a twenty-minute gallop of Kabul.
I had taken Akbar's message to Elphy when I rejoined the column, and it sent him into a great taking. He dithered and consulted his staff, and eventually they decided to push on.
"It will
be for the best," bleated Elphy, "but we should maintain our relations with the Sirdar in the meantime. You shall ride to him tomorrow, Flashman, and convey my warmest good wishes. That is the proper way of it."
The stupid old bastard seemed oblivious of the chaos around him.
Already his force was beginning to wither at the edges. When we camped it was a question of the troops simply lying down on the snow, in huddled groups for warmth, while the unfortunate niggers wailed and whimpered in the dark. There were some fires, but no field kitchens or tents for the men; much of the baggage was already lost, the order of march had become confused, some regiments had food and others none, and everyone was frozen to the bone.
The only ones fairly well off were the British women and their children. The dragon Lady Sale saw to it that their servants pitched little tents or shelters; long after dark her sharp, high voice could be heard carping on above the general moan and whimper of the camp-followers. My troopers and I were snug enough in the lee of some rocks, but I had left them at dusk to help with the ladies' tents, and in particular to see where Betty was installed. She seemed quite gay, despite the cold, and after I had made sure that Elphy was down for the night, I returned to the little group of wagons where the women were. It was now quite dark, and starting to snow, but I had marked her little tent, and found it without difficulty.
I scratched on the canvas, and when she called out who was there I asked her to send away her servant, who was in the tent with her for warmth. I wanted to talk to her, I said, keeping my voice down.
The native woman who served her came snuffling out presently, and I helped her into the dark with my boot. I was too cock-a-hoop to care whether she gossiped or not; she was probably too frightened, like the rest of the niggers, to worry about anything except her own skin that night.
I crawled under the low canvas, which was only about two feet high, and heard Betty move in the darkness. There was a pile of blankets covering the floor of the tent, and I felt her body beneath them.
"What is it, Mr Flashman?" says she.
"Just a friendly call," says I. "Sorry I couldn't send in a card."
She giggled in the dark. "You are a great tease," she whispered,
"and very wrong to come in like this. But I suppose the conditions are so unusual, and it is kind of you to look after me."
"Capital," says I, and without wasting more time I dived under the blankets and took hold of her. She was still half-dressed against the cold, but gripping that young body sent the fire running through me, and in a moment I was on top of her with my mouth on hers. She gave a gasp, and then a yelp, and before I knew it she was writhing away, striking at me, and squeaking like a startled mouse.
"How dare you!" she squealed. "Oh, how dare you! Get away! Get away from me this instant!" And lunging in the dark she caught me a great crack on the eye. "What the devil!" says I. "What's the matter?"
"Oh, you brute!" she hissed - for she had the sense to keep her voice down - "you filthy, beastly brute! Get out of my tent at once! At once, d'you hear?"
I could make nothing of this, and said so. "What have I done? I was only being friendly. What are you acting so damned missish for?"
"Oh, base!" says she. "You . . . you ..." "Oh, come now," says I.
"You're in very high ropes, to be sure. You weren't so proper when I squeezed you the other night."
"Squeezed me?" says she, as though I had uttered some unmentionable word.
"Aye, squeezed. Like this." And I reached over and, with a quick fumble in the dark, caught one of her breasts. To my amazement, she didn't seem to mind.
"Oh, that!" she says. "What an evil creature you are! You know that is nothing; all gentlemen do that, in affection. But you, you monstrous beast, presume on my friendship to try to . . . Oh, oh, I could die of shame!" If I had not heard her I shouldn't have believed it. God knows I have learned enough since of the inadequacies of education given to young Englishwomen, but this was incredible.
"Well," says I, "if you're accustomed to gentlemen doing that to you, in affection, you know some damned queer gentlemen.''
"You . . . you foul person," says she, in indignation. "It is no more than shaking hands!"
"Good God!" says I. "Where on earth were you brought up?"
At this, by the sound of it, she buried her face in the blankets and began to weep.
"Mrs Parker," says I, "I beg your pardon. I have made a mistake, and I am very sorry for it." The quicker I got out of this, the better, or she might start shouting rape round the camp. I'll say this for her, ignorant and full of amazing misconceptions as she was, she had appeared angry rather than frightened, and had kept her abuse of me down to a whisper. She had her own reputation to think about, of course.
"I shall go," says I, and started crawling for the flap. "But I may tell you," I added, "that in polite society it ain't usual for gentlemen to squeeze ladies' tits, whatever you may have been told. And it ain't usual, either, for ladies to let gentlemen do it; it gives the gentlemen a wrong impression, you know. My apologies, again. Good night."
She gave one last muffled squeak, and then I was out in the snow. I had never heard anything like it in my life, but I didn't know, then, how astonishingly green young women could be, and what odd notions they could get. Anyway, I had been well set down, for certain; by the looks of it I should have to contain my enthusiasm until we reached India again. And that, as I huddled down in my blankets beside my troopers, with the cold getting keener every minute, was no consolation at all.
Looking back on it now, I suppose it is funny enough, but lying shivering there and thinking of the pains I had been at to get Captain Parker out of the way, I could have twisted Mrs Betty's pretty neck for her.
It was a bitter, biting night, and there was little sleep to be had, for if the cold was not bad enough the niggers kept up a great whining and wailing to wake the dead. And by morning not a few of the poor devils were dead, for they had no more than a few rags of clothing to cover them. Dawn broke on a scene that was like something from an icy hell; everywhere there were brown corpses lying stiff in the drifts, and the living crackled as they struggled up in their frozen clothes. I saw Mackenzie actually crying over the body of a tiny native child; he was holding her in his arms, and when he saw me he cried out:
"What are we to do? These people are all dying, and those that don't will be slaughtered by those wolves on the hillside yonder. But what can we do?"
"What, indeed?" says I. "Let 'em be; there's no help for it." He was remarkably concerned, it seemed to me, over a nigger. And he was such a ramrod of a man, too.
"If only I could take her with me," says he, laying the small body back in the snow.
"You couldn't take 'em all," says I. "Come on, man, let's get some breakfast." He saw this was sensible advice, and we were lucky enough to get some hot mutton at Elphy's tent.
Getting the column under way was tremendous work; half the sepoys were too frost-bitten to be able to lift their muskets, and the other half had deserted in the night, skulking back to Kabul. We had to flog them into line, which warmed everyone up, but the camp followers needed no such urging. They were crowding ahead in panic in case they should be left behind, and threw Anquetil's vanguard into tremendous confusion. At this point a great cloud of mounted Ghazis suddenly came yelling out of a nullah in the hillside, and rode into the mob, cutting down everything in their way, soldiers and civilians, and made off with a couple of Anquetil's guns before he could stop them.
He made after them, though, with a handful of cavalry, and there was a warm skirmish; he couldn't get back the guns, but he spiked them, while the 44th stood fast and did nothing. Lady Sale damned them for cowards and hang-backs - the old baggage should have been in command, instead of Elphy - but I didn't blame the 44th myself. I was farther down the column, and in no hurry to get near the action until Anquetil was riding back, when I brought my lancers up at the canter (true to life, Tom Hughes, eh?). The guns were going to be no use
to us, anyway.
We blundered along the road for a mile or two, with troops of Afghans hanging on our flanks and every now and then swooping down at a weak part of the column, cutting up a few folk, snatching at the stores, and riding off again. Shelton kept roaring for everyone to hold his place and not be drawn in pursuit, and I took the opportunity to damn his eyes and demand to know what we were soldiers for, if not to fight our enemies when we saw them in front of us.
"Steady on, old Flash," says Lawrence, who was with Shelton just then. "It's no use chasing 'em and getting cut up in the hills; they'll be too many for you."
"It's too bad!" I bawled, slapping my sabre. "Are we just to wait for 'em to chew us up as they please, then? Why, Lawrence, I could clear that hillside with twenty French-men, or old ladies!"
"Bravo!" cries Lady Sale, clapping her hands. "You hear, gentlemen?"
There was a knot of the staff round Elphy's palankeen, with Shelton in the middle of them, and they were none too pleased to hear the old dragon crowing at them. Shelton bristled up, and told me to hold my place and do as I was told.
"At your orders, sir," says I, mighty stiff, and Elphy joined in.
"No, no, Flashman," says he. "The Brigadier is right. We must preserve order." This, in the middle of a column that was a great sprawling mass of troops and people and animals, with no direction at all, and their baggage scattered. Mackenzie, coming up, told me that my party and his jezzailchis must flank the column closely, watching the likely places, and driving in hard when the Afghans appeared -
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