CHAPTER XXXI
EVENTS SOUTH OF THE BORDER
Thwaite was finishing a solitary dinner and attempting to find interestin a novel when his butler came with news that the telephone bell wasringing in the gun-room. Thwaite, being tired and cross, told him toanswer it himself, expecting some frivolous message about supplies. Theman returned in a little with word that he could not understand it.Then Thwaite arose, blessing him, and went to see. The telegraph officeproper was on the other side of the river, on the edge of the nativetown, but a telephone had been established to the garrison.
Thwaite's first impulse was to suspect a gigantic hoax. A scared nativeclerk was trying to tell him a most appalling tale. George had notspared energy in his message, and the Oriental imagination as a mediumhad considerably increased it. The telegrams came in a confused order,hard to piece together, but two facts seemed to stand out from theconfusion. One was that there was an unknown pass in the hills beyondNazri through which danger was expected at any moment that night; theother was that treason was suspected throughout the whole north. Thencame the name of Marker, which gave Thwaite acute uneasiness. Finallycame George's two words of advice--keep strict watch on the native townand hold Bardur in readiness for a siege; and wire the same directionsto Yasin, Gilgit, Chitral, Chilas, and throughout Kashmir and thePunjab. Above all, wire to the chief places on the new Indus Valleyrailway, for in case of success in Bardur, the railway would be thefirst object of the invader.
Thwaite put down the ear-trumpet, his face very white and perspiring.He looked at his watch; it was just on nine o'clock. The moon hadarisen and the telegram said "moonrise." He could not doubt thegenuineness of the message when he had heard at the end the namesWinterham and Haystoun. Already Marker might be through the pass, andlittle the Khautmi people could do against him. He must be checked atBardur, though it cost every life in the garrison. Four hours' delaywould arm the north to adequate resistance.
He telephoned to the telegraph office to shut and lock the doors andadmit no one till word came from him. Then he summoned his Sikhorderly, his English servant, and the native officers of the garrison.He had one detachment of Imperial Service troops officered by Punjabis,and a certain force of Kashmir Sepoys who made ineffective policemen,and as soldiers were worse than useless. And with them he had to defendthe valley, and hold the native town, which might give trouble on hisflank. This was the most vexatious part of the business. If Marker hadorganized the thing, then nothing could be unexpected, and treachery wassure to be thick around them.
The men came, saluted, and waited in silence. Thwaite sat down at atable and pulled a sheaf of telegraph forms to pieces. First he wiredto Ladcock at Gilgit, beseeching reinforcements. From Bardur to thesouth there is only one choice of ways--by Yasin and Yagistan to theIndus Valley, or by Gilgit and South Kashmir. Once beyond Gilgit therewas small hope of checking an advance, but in case the shorter way tothe Indus by the Astor Valley was tried there might be hope of a delay.So he besought Ladcock to post men on the Mazeno Pass if the time wasgiven him. Then he sent a like message to Yasin, though on the highpasses and the unsettled country there was small chance of the wiresremaining uncut. A force in Yasin might take on the flank any invasionfrom Afghanistan and in any case command the Chitral district. Thencame a series of frantic wires at random--to Rawal Pindi, to the Punjabicentres, to South Kashmir. He had small confidence in these messages.If the local risings were serious, as he believed them to be, they wouldbe too late, and in any case they were beyond the country wherestrategical points were of advantage against an invader. There remainedthe stations on the Indus Valley railway, which must bethe earliest point of attack. The terminus at Boonji was held by acertain Jackson, a wise man who inspired terror in a mixed force ofirregulars, Afridis, Pathans, Punjabis, Swats, and a dozen othervarieties of tribesmen. To him he sent the most lengthy and urgentmessages, for he held the key of a great telegraphic system with whichhe might awake Abbotabad and the Punjab. Then, perspiring with heat andanxiety, he gave the bundle into the hands of his English servant, andtold off an officer and twenty men to hold the telegraph office. A bluelight was to be lit in the window if the native town should provetroublesome and reinforcements be needed.
Soon the force of the garrison was assembled in the yard, all but a fewwho had been sent on messages to the more isolated houses of the Englishresidents. Thwaite addressed them briefly: "Men, there's the devil'sown sweet row up the north, and it's moving down to us. This very nightwe may have to fight. And, remember, it's not the old game with thehillmen, but an army of white men, servants of the Tsar, come to fightthe servants of the Empress. Therefore, it is your duty to kill themall like locusts, else they will swallow up you and your cattle and yourwives and your children, and, speaking generally, the whole bally show.We may be killed, but if we keep them back even for a little God willbless us. So be steady at your posts."
The garrison was soon dispersed, the guns in readiness, pointing up thevalley. It was ten o'clock by Thwaite's watch ere the last click of theloaders told that Bardur was awaiting an enemy. The town behind was inan uproar, men clamouring at the gates, and seeking passports to flee tothe south. Chinese and Turcoman traders from Leh and Lhassa, Yarkandand Bokhara, with scared faces, were getting their goods together andinvoking their mysterious gods. Logan, who had returned from Gilgitthat very day, rode breathless into the yard, clamouring for Thwaite.He received the tale in half a dozen sentences, whistled, and turned togo, for he had his own work to do. One question he asked:
"Who sent the telegrams?"
"Haystoun and Winterham."
"Then they're alone at Nazri?"
"Except for the Khautmi men."
"Will they try to hold it?"
"I should think so. They're all sportsmen. Gad, there won't be a soulleft alive."
Logan galloped off with a long face. It would be a great ending, butwhat a waste of heroic stuff! And as he remembered Lewis's frankgood-fellowship he shut his lips, as if in pain.
The telegrams were sent, and reply messages began to pour in, which keptone man at the end of the telephone. About half-past ten a blue lightburned in the window across the river. There seemed something to do inthe native town of narrow streets and evil-smelling lanes, for the soundof shouting and desultory firing rose above the stir of the fort. Thetelegraph office abutted on the far end of the bridge, and Thwaite hadtaken the precaution of bidding the native officer he had sent acrosskeep his men posted around the end of the passage. Now he himself tookthirty men, for the native town was the most dangerous point he had tofear. The wires must not be cut till the last moment, and, as theypassed over the bridge and then through the English quarter, there wassmall danger if the office was held. He found, as he expected, that theplace was being maintained against considerable odds. A huge mixedcrowd, drawn in the main from the navvies who had been employed on thenew road, armed with knives and a few rifles, and encouraged by certainwild, dancing figures which had the look of priests, was surging aroundthe gate. The fighting stuff was Afridi or Chitrali, but there wasabundance of yelling from this rabble of fakirs and beggars whoaccompanied them. Order there was none, and it was clear to Thwaitethat this rising had been arranged for but not organized. His men hadsmall difficulty in forcing a way to the office, where they served tocomplete the cordon of defence and the garrison of the bridge-end. Twomen had been killed and some half-dozen of the rioters. He pushed intothe building, and found a terrified Kashmir clerk sternly watched by hisservant and the Sikh orderly. The man, with tears streaming down hisface, was attempting to read the messages which the wires brought.
Thwaite picked up and read the latest, which was a scrawl in quaveringcharacters over three telegraph forms. It was from Ladcock at Gilgit,saying that he was having a row of his own with the navvies there, andthat he could send no reinforcements at present. If he quieted thetrouble in time he would try and hold the Mazeno Pass, and meanwhile hehad done his best to wake the Punjab. As the wires would be probablycut
within the next hour there would be no more communications, but hebesought Thwaite to keep the invader in the passes, as the whole southcountry was a magazine waiting for a spark to explode. The message ranin short violent words, and Thwaite had a vision of Ladcock, short,ruddy, and utterly out of temper, stirred up from his easy life to holda frontier.
There was no word from Yasin, as indeed he had expected, for the tribeson the highlands about Hunza and Punial were the most disaffected on theBorder, and doubtless the first to be tampered with. Probably his ownmessage had never gone, and he could only pray that the men there mightby the grace of God have eyes in their heads to read the signs of thetimes. There was a brief word from Jackson at Boonji. There attackshad been made on the terminus and the engine-sheds since sunset, whichhis men had luckily had time to repulse. A large amount ofrolling-stock was lying there, as five freight trains had brought upmaterial for the new bridge the day before. Of this the enemy hadprobably had word. Anyhow, he hoped to quiet all local disturbances,and he would undertake to see that every station on the line was warned.He would receive reinforcements from Abbotabad by the afternoon of thenext day; if Bardur and Gilgit, or Yasin as it might be, could delay theattack till then everything might be safe--unless, indeed, the wholenexus of hill-tribes rose as one man. In which case there would be thedevil to pay, and he had no advice to give.
Thwaite read and laughed grimly. It was not a question of a day'sdelay, but of an hour's, and the hill-tribes, if he judged Marker'scleverness rightly, would act just as Jackson feared. The business hadbegun among the navvies at Bardur and Gilgit and Boonji. In a littlethey would have news of real tribal war--Hunzas, Pathans, Chitralis,Punialis, and Chils, tribes whom England had fought a dozen times beforeand knew the mettle of; now would be the time for their innings. Wellsupplied with money and arms--this would have been part of Marker'sbusiness--they would be the forerunners of the great army. First savagewar, then scientific annihilation by civilized hands--a sweet prospectfor a peaceful man in the prime of life!
He returned to the fort to find all quiet and in order. It commandedthe north road, but though the eye might weary itself with looking onthe moonlit sandy valley and the opaque blue hills, there was no sightor sound of men. The stars were burning hard and cold in the vault ofsky, and looking down somewhere on the march of an army. It was nowclose on midnight; in five hours dawn would break in the east and thenight of attack would be gone. But death waited between this midnighthour and the morning. What were Haystoun and the men from Khautmidoing? Fighting or beyond all fighting? Well, he would soon know. Hewas not afraid, but this cursed waiting took the heart out of a man!And he looked at his watch and found it half-past twelve.
* * * * *
At Yasin there was the most severe fighting. It lasted for three days,and in effect amounted to a little tribal war. A man called Mackintoshcommanded, and he had the advantage of having regulars with him, Gurkhasfor the most part, who were old campaigners. The place had seemedunquiet for some days, and certain precautions had been taken, so thatwhen the rioting broke out at sunset it was easy to get the town undersubjection and prepare for external attack. The Chiling Pass intoChitral had given trouble of old, but Mackintosh was scarcely preparedfor the systematic assaults of Punialis and Tangiris from the east andsouth. Having always been famous as an alarmist he put the rightinterpretation on the business, and settled down to what he half hoped,half feared, might be a great frontier war. The place was strong onlyon the north side, and the defence was as much a question of engineeringas of war. His Sepoys toiled gallantly at the incomplete defences,while the rest fought hand to hand--bayonet against knife, Metfordagainst Enfield--to cover their labour. He lost many men, but on theevening of the next day he had the satisfaction of seeing thefortifications complete, and he awaited a siege with equanimity, as hewas well victualled.
On the second night the enemy again attacked, but the moon was bright,and they were no match for his sharpshooters. About two in the morningthey fell back, and for the next day it looked as if they proposed toinvest the garrison. But by the third evening they began to melt away,taking with them such small plunder as they had won. Mackintosh, whowas a man of enterprise, told off a detachment for pursuit, and cursedbitterly the fate which had broken his ankle with a rifle-bullet.
In the south along the railway the warnings came in good time. At RawalPindi there was some small difficulty with native officials, a largebody of whom seemed to have unaccountably disappeared. This delayed forsome time the sending of a freight-train to Abbotabad, but by and bysubstitutes were found, and the works left under guard. The telegram toPeshawur found things in readiness there, for memories of old troublestill linger, and people sleep lightly on that frontier. Word came ofnative riots in the south, at Lahore and Amritsar, and the line of townswhich mark the way to Delhi. In some places extraordinary accidentswere reported. Certain officers had gone off on holiday and had notreturned; odd and unintelligible commands had come to perplex the mindsof others; whole camps were reported sick where sickness was leastexpected. A little rising of certain obscure rivers had broken up animportant highway by destroying all the bridges save the one whichcarried the railway. The whole north was on the brink of a suddendisorganization, but the brink had still to be passed. It lay with itsmasters to avert calamity; and its masters, going about with haggardfaces, prayed for daylight and a few hours to prepare.
* * * * *
George had sent his men to Khautmi before he entered the telegraph hut,and he followed himself in twenty minutes. Somewhere upon the hill-roadhe met St. John with a dozen men, who abused him roundly and besoughtdetails.
"Are you sure?" he cried. "For God's sake, say you're mistaken. For,if you're not, upon my soul it's the last hour for all of us."
George was in little mood for jest. He told Lewis's tale in a fewwords.
"A pass beyond Nazri," the man cried. "Why, I was there shooting bucklast week. Up the nullah and over the ridge, and then a cleft at thetop of the next valley? Does he say there's a pass there? Maybe, butI'll be hanged if an army could get through. If we get there we canhold it."
"We haven't time. They may be here at any moment. Send men to Forzaand get them to light the fires. Oh, for God's sake, be quick! I'veleft Haystoun down there. The obstinate beggar was too tired to move."
Over all the twenty odd miles between Forza and Khautmi there is a chainof fires which can be used for signals in the Border wars. On thisnight Khautmi was to take the west side of the Nazri gully and Forza theeast, and the two quickest runners in the place were sent off to Andoverwith the news. He was to come towards them, leaving men at thedifferent signal-posts in case of scattered assaults, and if he came intime the two forces would join in holding the Nazri pass. But shouldthe invader come before, then it fell on the Khautmi men to stand alone.It was a smooth green hollow in the stony hills, some hundred yardswide, and at the most they might hope to make a fight of thirty minutes.St. John and George, with their men, ran down the stony road till thesweat dripped from their brows, though the night was chilly. Mitchinsonwas to follow with the rest and light the fires; meantime, they must getto Nazri, in case the march should forestall them. St. John wascursing his ill-luck. Two hours earlier and they might have held thedistant cleft in the hills, and, if they were doomed to perish, haveperished to some purpose. But the holding of the easy Nazri pass wassheer idle mania, and yet it was the only chance of gaining some paltryminutes. As for George, he had forgotten his vexatious. His oneanxiety was for Lewis; that he should be in time to have his friend athis side. And when at last they came down on the pass and saw thecamp-fire blazing fiercely and no trace of the enemy, he experienced asense of vast relief. Lewis was making himself comfortable, cool beggarthat he was, and now was probably sleeping. He should be left alone; sohe persuaded St. John that the best point to take their stand on was ona shoulder of hill beyond the fire. It gave him honest pleasure tothink that at last he had st
olen a march on his friend. He should atleast have his sleep in peace before the inevitable end.
He looked at his watch; it was almost half-past eleven.
"Haystoun said they'd be here at midnight," he whispered to hiscompanion. "We haven't long. When do you suppose Andover will come?"
"Not for an hour and a half at the earliest. Afraid this is going to beour own private show. Where's Haystoun?"
George nodded back to the fire in the hollow, and the tent beside it."There, I expect, sleeping. He's dog-tired, and he always was a verycool hand in a row. He'll be wakened soon enough, poor chap."
"You're sure he can't tell us anything?"
"Nothing. He told me all. Better let him be." Mitchinson came up withthe rearguard. Living all but alone in the wilds had made him a silentman compared to whom the taciturn St. John was garrulous. He nodded toGeorge and sat down.
"How many are we?" George asked.
"Forty-three, counting the three of us. Not enough for a good stand.Wonder how it'll turn out. Never had to do such a thing before."
St. John, whose soul longed for Maxims, posted his men as best hecould. There was no time to throw up earthworks, but a rough cairn ofstone which stood in the middle of the hollow gave at least a centralrallying-ground. Then they waited, watching the fleecy night vapoursblow across the peaks and straining their ears for the first sound ofmen.
George grew impatient. "It can't be more than five miles to the pass.Shouldn't some of us try to get there? It would make all thedifference."
St. John declined sharply. "We've taken our place and we must stick toit. We can't afford to straggle. Hullo! it's just on twelve. Thwaitehas had three hours to prepare, and he's bound to have wakened thesouth. I fancy the business won't quite come off this time."
Suddenly in the chilly silence there rose something like the faint anddistant sound of rifles. It was no more than the sound of stonedropping on a rock ledge, for, still and clear and cold though the nightwas, the narrowness of the valley and the height of the cliffs dulledall distant sounds. But each man had the ear of the old hunter, andwaited with head bent forward.
Again the drip-drip; then a scattering noise as when one lets peas fallon the floor.
"God! That's carbines. Who the devil are they fighting with?"Mitchinson's eye had lost its lethargy. His scraggy neck was cranedforward, and his grim mouth had relaxed into a grimmer smile.
"It's them, sure enough," said St. John, and spoke something to hisservant.
"I'm going forward," said George. "It may be somebody else making astand, and we're bound to help."
"You're bound not to be an ass," said St. John. "Who in the Lord'sname could it be? It may be the Badas polishing off some hereditaryfoes, and it may be Marker getting rid of some wandering hillmen. Man,we're miles beyond the pale. Who's to make a stand but ourselves?"
Again came the patter of little sounds, and then a long calm.
"They're through now," said St. John. "The next thing to listen for isthe sound of their feet. When that comes I pass the word along. We'reall safe for heaven, so keep your minds easy."
But the sound of feet was long in coming. Only the soft night airs, andat rare intervals an eagle's cry, or the bleat of a doe from the valleybottom. The first half-hour of waiting was a cruel strain. In suchmoments a man's sins rise up large before him. When his future life isnarrowed down to an hour's compass, he sees with cruel distinctness thefollies of his past. A thousand things he had done or left undoneloomed on George's mental horizon. His slackness, his self-indulgence,his unkindness--he went over the whole innocent tale of his sins. Tothe happy man who lives in the open and meets the world with a squarefront this forced final hour of introspection has peculiar terrors.Meantime Lewis was sleeping peacefully in the tent by the still cheerfulfire. Thank God, he was spared this hideous waiting!
About two Andover turned up with fifteen men, hot and desperate. Helistened to St. John's story in silence.
"Thank God, I'm in time. Who found out this? Haystoun? Good man,Lewis! I wonder who has been firing out there. They can't have beenstopped? It's getting devilish late for them anyhow, and I believethere's a little hope. It would be too risky to leave this pass, but Ivote we send a scout."
A man was chosen and dispatched. Two hours later he returned to themystified watchers at Nazri. He had been on the hill-shoulder andlooked into the cleft. There was no sign of men there, but he had heardthe sound of men, though where he could not tell. Far down the cleftthere was a gleam of fire, but no man near it.
"That's a Bada dodge," said Andover promptly. "Now I wonder if Markertrusted too much to these gentry, and they have done us the excellentservice of misleading him. They hate us like hell, and they'd selltheir souls any day for a dozen cartridges; so it can't have been doneon purpose. Seems to me there has been a slip in his plans somewhere."
But the sound of voices! The man was questioned closely, and he wasstrong on its truth. He was a hillman from the west of the Khyber, andhe swore that he knew the sound of human speech in the hills many milesoff, though he could not distinguish the words.
"In thirty minutes it will be morning," said George. "Lord, such anight, and Lewis to have missed it all!" His spirits were rising, and helit a pipe. The north was safe whatever happened, and, as the inertnessof midnight passed off, he felt satisfaction in any prospect, howeverhazardous. He sat down beneath a boulder and smoked, while Andovertalked with the others. They were the frontier soldiers, and this wastheir profession; he was the amateur to whom technicalities wereunmeaning.
Suddenly he sprang up and touched St. John on the shoulder. A greatchill seemed to have passed over the world, and on the hill-tops therewas a faint light. Both men looked to the east, and there, beyond theForza hills, was the red foreglow spreading over the grey. It was dawn,and with the dawn came safety. The fires had burned low, and thevagrant morning winds were beginning to scatter the white ashes. Nowwas the hour for bravado, since the time for silence had gone. St.John gave the word, and it was passed like a roll-call to left andright, the farthest man shouting it along the ribs of mountain to thenext watch-fire. The air had grown clear and thin, and far off the dimrepetition was heard, which told of sentries at their place, and theline of posts which rimmed the frontier.
Mitchinson moistened his dry lips and filled his lungs with the cold,fresh air. "That," he said slowly, "is the morning report of the lastoutpost of the Empire, and by the grace of God it's 'All's well.'"