“I secured three noble camels for myself, and right good service they did me afterwards.”
Sale was anxious to get back to Jellalabad, so the men returned in triumph, each man carrying off what he pleased, and were received with loud cheers from the walls. A little after dark the news was brought in by some Hindoos living in the valley that every fort and village within eight miles had been deserted.
This night they slept in bed, perfectly undisturbed. After passing the last thirty-six nights on the ramparts, armed and accoutred, constantly roused by the enemy, by their own rounds, by the relief of sentries, by those terrible earthquakes, many nights drenched by rain without shelter, quiet rest in a real bed for the whole night was an unspeakable luxury; “but coupled with the thought that, unaided, we had broken the toils cast round us by Akbar Khan; that we had beaten in fair fight the chief who had destroyed our Cabul army; that months of toil, watching, anxiety, and peril had been crowned with glorious success; that our country’s honour was safe in our hands, it was positive bliss, such as few have had the happiness to taste.”
On this night even the earthquakes spared them--no sudden roar, no sharp electric shock, no far-off rumbling sound, no sharp crack of doom to startle them from their well-earned repose. It was bliss!
It was observed that earthquakes usually followed much rain, thus raising the question whether steam may not often be the origin of the phenomenon.
Next day they found 580 rounds of ammunition for the captured guns. Now food began to pour in from the country, and they lived on the fat of the land.
News came in that Pollock had forced the Khyber, and would arrive about the 15th.
At length, on the morning of the 14th, they could see with their glasses Pollock’s force coming near. They had not arrived in time to help the garrison in their imminent peril. They had lost the grand opportunity of joining with them to crush the man whose treachery had destroyed their brothers-in-arms, whose bones lay scattered in the icy passes of Cabul. A fifth part of Pollock’s cavalry would have enabled them to annihilate Akbar and all his troops.
So when next morning Pollock’s force did arrive, there was a hearty welcome, but a sly bit of sarcasm in the tune to which the band of the 13th played them in, “Ye’re ower lang o’ comin’.”