John Nicholson | Page 3

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 chances of ultimate escape seemed hopeless. The houses were filled to overflowing with sepoy soldiers and camp followers, men, women, and children, and when by and by the large guns of the fortress were trained upon them the slaughter was very great. The British officers, it is stated, expected nothing less than death. They even began to burn the regimental colours