Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1879-05-29
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kept. They passed the great plain with
out firing shot or seeing the face of an
enemy, and even the most experienced
officers began 10 hope that after all. their
worst apprehensions might prove unbound
ed
But they little knew the man with whom
they had to deal. Akbar Khan was not
one TO let slip the prey which he had once
ensnared, and the Jaws of death were al
ready gaping for every man of that i'll
fated army.
In the gray of gloomy Winter morn
ing. they came in sight of the pass OF
koork Cabul. through which lay their
shortest route to India At the first
glimpse of the black. tomb-like gorge.
shut in by frowning precipices, over which
brooded weird, unearthlv silence. the
boldest felt their hearts sink. but it was
now too late to draw back Rank on rank.
with the ghostly mist closing around
them like shroud, the doomed host went
down into the valley of death.
And then. in a moment, the tragedy be-
gan. Far and wide the air was rent with
the Afghan war shout, and each rock.
each thicket. each hollow, was one blaze
and cackle of musketry. every bullet tell
ing fatally upon the helpless mass below.
Surprised and outnumbered. the Eng
lish still stood their ground maniuly, and
attempted to return the fire, but against
ambushed marksmen hundreds of feet
overhead, what could they do In a mo-
ment all was one whirl of fire and smoke
and hideous uproar wells of rage. shrieks
Of agony, savage curses, the shouts of Of
ficers, neighing of frightened horses. the
crash offalling rocks, the groans of the
wounded and diving. all mnging in dis
NAL chorus with the thunder of the battle
blood flowing like water and death COM
ing blindly, no man knew whence or how.
What need to dwell on the multiplied
horrors of that fatal day? how the en-
trapped men, famished, wounded. hope
less of escape, fought stubbornly to the
last; how the WORKOUT officers. with their
swords dropping from their frost bitten
hands. still cheered on their tainting men
as gallantly as ever, how one handful of
heroes fought their way out of the deadly
valley, only to be slaughtered TO man by
fresh enemies beyond.
OF sixteen thousand who left the capital. |
only single man reached Jelalabad alive
and one day avenged alike Rohilcund and
Cabul.
Through the whole of the dreadful
struggle Herbert St Clair had fought
among the foremost. reckless of life. and
caring only to have his fill of Afghan
blood before he died
Man and man, the white-lrocked muir
derers fell before his deadly aim and the
rocks above began to echo with cry of
XIII the Ingleez-Bashi go English cap
tain) while bullets fell around him thick
and fast. But although his uniform was
torn to rags. and his cap struck from his
head. the death hail still failed to reach
his life; and the superstitious mountain
GERS looked with secret awe upon this
man whom no weapon could harm and no
peril dismay.
But the end came at last \ sharp, sud
den pang shot through his left side--a sick
dizziness overpowered him-the black
rocks and the rolling smoke. and the eddy
OF struggling figures, swarmed before him
IN mist-there was a rushing, roaring
sound in his ears-and he fell heavily to
the earth