John Nicholson | Page 3

friends, until at last he was
temporarily appointed to the 41st Regiment of Sepoys quartered at
Benares. At this station he studiously mastered his drill and prepared
himself for the permanent appointment which was promised him. This
followed at the end of the same year, 1839, when he was placed in the
27th Native Infantry at Ferozepore, on the Sutlej.
The young ensign was now to experience his first taste of war. Soon
after he had joined his new regiment, the 27th was ordered up into
Afghanistan and despatched to Jellalabad. At that time Afghanistan was
occupied by British troops, and to all intents and purposes was well
disposed towards us, but appearances were deceitful. Though hardly
anyone knew it, trouble was brewing in the Amir's capital. Below the
surface of calm, feeling ran high against Shah Soojah, the unpopular
Afghan ruler, and his supporters, the British; and the followers of Dost
Mahomed, the rival claimant to the throne, had no difficulty in
fomenting a general revolt. The blow fell on the 2nd of November 1841.
On that day Sir Alexander Burnes, the British envoy at Cabul, was
assassinated, and the streets of the city ran red with blood.
When the insurrection thus blazed forth, John Nicholson was at Fort
Ghuzni, nearly a hundred miles to the south of Cabul. His regiment had
been ordered there some months previously to relieve the 16th. In three
weeks' time the hill fortress was surrounded by Afghan warriors, and
Colonel Palmer, the commandant, found himself in a state of siege.
Unfortunately for the little garrison, the winter was now upon them.
Situated very high up, Ghuzni was exposed to the full severity of the
pitiless snowstorms which swept over the neighbourhood. These not
only added to the discomfort of the troops, but had the effect of
checking the advance of a relief column under General Maclaren that
had started from Candahar.
For a time the enemy was kept at bay without the city, their
old-fashioned jezails, or matchlocks, failing to produce much effect.
Then treachery made itself felt. Actuated by humane motives, Colonel

Palmer had refrained from expelling the Afghan townspeople, and the
latter now repaid this act of kindness by undermining the city walls to
admit their countrymen. One dark December night the Afghans poured
in through the breach, driving the Sepoys and their British officers into
the shelter of the citadel.
For a month the little garrison held out bravely, suffering some loss
from the enemy's bullets and suffering even more from the scarcity of
water. While the snow fell it was possible to melt it and replenish their
store, but when the storms ceased they were in a desperate case.
Instructions now came from General Elphinstone at Cabul that the
fortress should be surrendered. Colonel Palmer, who was loth to
believe the message, prolonged negotiations as long as he could, but
reflection showed him that he had no choice but to submit. The water
supply was at an end, and the Afghans threatened to renew the siege in
a more determined manner than before. Very reluctantly, therefore, he
yielded, having first bargained that the garrison should be permitted to
march out with the honours of war and should be escorted in due time
to Peshawur.
To this course the enemy's leaders agreed. But an oath counts for little
in the Afghan mind, and Nicholson quickly learned of what depths of
treachery this people were capable. No sooner had the sepoys of the
27th marched out to the quarters assigned them in the city than a crowd
of ghazis fell upon them, massacring many of the poor fellows in cold
blood. Nicholson himself, with Lieutenants Crawford and Burnett, was
on the roof of a house near by and saw the terrible deed. In the building
were two companies of sepoys. Joining these without delay, the officers
prepared to make a bold stand.
The attack on the house was not long in coming. Storming the door in
their furious desire to get at the hated infidels, the Afghans
endeavoured to effect an entrance. When it was seen that this could not
be done, the place was set on fire, and soon the flames and smoke
drove the inmates from room to room. Before very long the position
became untenable. With the few men remaining Nicholson and his
brother officers cut a hole with their bayonets in the back wall of the

house, and one by one dropped through into the narrow street below.
Fortunately, the two other buildings in which Colonel Palmer and his
sepoys had taken refuge, were close by. In a few moments the fugitives
had joined forces with their comrades.
[Illustration: "One by one dropped through into the narrow street
below."]
But though safety for a time had been gained, the