Raiders of the Sarhad

I decided, therefore, to blow up the surrounding walls of the fort, as well as the three smaller tourelles, leaving the tallest tower alone standing. In places of these raised tourelles I made an entrenched camp outside the site of the old walls. Peculiar folds in the ground lent themselves well to my purpose, enabling me to place the defensive lines along the tops of the folds. The interior of the work was thus well concealed from view.

The high tourelle was then improved and strengthened, and a machine gun placed on its top to command the whole of the camp below.

Those Raiders dwelling in the surrounding districts took a keen interest in these changes, for they were under the impression that we had only demolished the existing walls with the intention of building stronger and higher ones, and asked me how high I intended to make them.

As I did not think it wise to gratify their curiosity, I replied that, when finished, it might be just possible to see the tops of them! From this reply the rumour got abroad that I was making a vast fortress, and, later on, the Persian Government sent urgent inquiries as to why I had built a great fort in Persia without its permission. It was, in consequence, difficult to persuade them that I had built nothing, but, on the contrary, had blown up existing walls, and that all that I had done in excess of this was to dig into the ground!

Although time was passing peacefully and busily in the organisation of these various works, I was beginning to get very anxious about the food supply of both men and beasts.

It was now the end of May and the heat was intense. The camels used in the caravans bringing supplies from India found little or no grazing between marches, and died in their dozens on the way, the consequence being that but little of the supplies despatched from India ever reached us.

Our horses began to die off in alarming numbers. The grass on the slopes of the hills surrounding Khwash was of course quickly eaten up, and we were reduced practically to nothing, not possessing even straw as fodder. To make matters worse there were still three months to wait before we could hope to obtain straw from the barley we had sown. Altogether the position was beginning to be of an alarming nature, and I began to wonder whether, though Jiand and all his men had not been able to turn us out of Khwash, we might not be driven out by slow starvation.

Something had to be done and done quickly. No stone must be left unturned to save us from this pass, and I cast about for means of feeding the animals other than by these failing supplies from India. It was then that I suddenly remembered Jiand's crops at Kamalabad. When, on the first occasion, he had surrendered there I had spared not only the lives of himself and his followers but his crops as well. Those crops I decided to call upon him to share with us now.

Accordingly, in the early part of June, I sent for him, and in a few days he obeyed the summons, but was obviously reluctant, and very morose.

I thereupon frankly told him the position with regard to the animals, and said that I knew he must have vast quantities of bhusa from his crops, for the bulk of which he could have no use, and asked him to sell it.

The old villain refused point blank. I swallowed my anger as best I could, and told him I would give four times the market price for it if he would send it at once.

But he was obstinate, and persisted in his refusal, in spite of all my offers.

As a matter of fact I had been told repeatedly that it was Jiand's one hope and ambition that I would try conclusions with him in his own part of the country, where his secret hiding places, and defences amidst the difficult hill country, were only known to his own tribe. Moreover, so I was also told, Halil Khan was continually urging him to force me to fight. Halil Khan himself was itching to wipe out the humiliation and discredit they had both suffered as an outcome of being bluffed twice when they could actually have wiped us out.

Indignant as I was there was nothing to be done but to let him go. I had promised him safe conduct to and fro; I, therefore, had no alternative.

But there was still another stone that could be turned. About five miles distant from the valley of Kamalabad, Jiand's stronghold, lay another fertile valley, Karsimabad, the property of an old Chief named Murad. This old man had at one time been the leader of the Sarhad, until Jiand had deposed him from his leadership and assumed it himself. Although Murad was outwardly on friendly terms with Jiand – he was not strong enough to show himself otherwise – I had heard many hints of the old ex-Chief's jealousy of and resentment towards Jiand.

I, therefore, sent for Murad and asked him if he would sell his straw, telling him that Jiand had refused to do business with me. The old fellow assured me I could have all the straw I wanted, and that I could have it for nothing. Of course I refused his generosity, told him I would pay him what I had offered Jiand, and instructed him to get it ready as soon as possible, when I would send my camels to bring it in.

Before Murad, who was obviously delighted with such a good piece of business, departed he gave me a word of warning which fully confirmed all I had heard of Halil Khan's and Jiand's smouldering enmity.

"If they can kill you, Sahib, they will. And they will most surely fight against you and try to kill you before many weeks are past."

It was about this date that repeated confirmations reached me of Shah Sawar's persistent treachery. Up to the present I had elected to ignore the incident of his letters to the Germans. They had never reached their destinations, so no harm had been done so far. It had been my constant wish, despite all the warnings I had received, to make friends with the Yarmahommedzais. But it was now time, I considered, to take some notice of Shah Sawar's activities, and this seemed a suitable moment to charge him bluntly concerning his traffic with the Germans.

Accordingly he was summoned to appear before a drum-head court martial consisting of myself and two other officers, to be tried for repeated acts of treachery, and particularly for communication with the Germans, coupled with the information supplied to the same quarter that I had few troops, and that, if they (the Germans) came to the Sarhad it would be easy for them, with his help, to overwhelm my whole force.

As usual, Shah Sawar swore he was innocent of all these charges and pointed out that it was obvious he could not possibly have been guilty, as he could not write.

Then I played a trump card, for I produced the mullah (priest) who had written the letters at his dictation, and who had wandered, a day or so before, into the camp.

When Shah Sawar caught sight of the mullah he shrugged his shoulders and muttered, "Kismet." He knew the game was up, confessed at once that he had dictated the letters, and had put his mark to them.

There was naturally only one sentence that could be passed upon him, and he knew it. He was found guilty and condemned to be shot. He implored me to give him another chance, but I was tired of his broken promises, and told him flatly that he had offended once too often. He had been convicted by a duly constituted court martial, and the finding of the court must stand. I told him also that his time was short, and advised him to write any farewell messages he wanted to send, and to make his will as quickly as possible. The mullah was also given leave to write anything that Shah Sawar wished to dictate.

As I passed from the tent I gazed hard at Shah Sawar. The sweat was pouring down his face – few men can hear the sentence of immediate death without emotion of some sort – but he did not utter a sound. It must be admitted that he bore himself like a man, as, with a gesture of resignation, he told the mullah he wanted him to start writing at once.

Whilst he was writing out his last wishes, I made my way to the Durbar tent to wait until he had finished. On my way I met Idu and told him the result of the court martial. Idu had an uncanny gift of intuition and I am certain realised how much I disliked my obvious but uncongenial duty. He looked at me strangely and then disappeared.

Some little time later I was leaving the tent when I caught sight of the Gul-Bibi, Shah Sawar's wife, dressed in her very best attire, running towards me. Directly she reached me, she fell on her knees and, touching my feet with her hands, broke into lamentations.

"What is it?" I asked, trying to speak sternly. "What have you to say?"

The Gul-Bibi had a great deal to say! She said that Idu had gone to her and told her of the sentence that had been passed on her husband and she had come to plead for his life. She used every argument she could think of to persuade me to reverse the finding of the court, and finally went bail in her own person for the future good behaviour of the handsome rascal, if only he might have another chance.

"I swear to you," she said passionately, "that if ever my fool of a husband raises his hand against you again or breaks his word to you, I will shoot him with my own hands. I, the Gul-Bibi, swear it."

It occurred to me that after all it might be politic to temper justice with mercy. Shah Sawar undoubtedly had great influence and the concession of his life might be a turning-point in the determination of his tribe to be loyal to the British cause.

I said that she had accomplished what no one else could have done and that her eloquence had persuaded me to grant her her husband's life.

"But this is the very last time I will show him any mercy. Shah Sawar has proved himself a traitor and has broken his oath again and again. I am only letting him go now on your guarantee of his good behaviour in the future. If ever he breaks faith again, it will be for the very last time. You may go now and tell him what I have said and tell him that he owes his life entirely to you."

I directed her to the tent where she would find Shah Sawar waiting for death, and presently she returned with her husband by her side. He was obviously very subdued and very impressed. His gratitude was genuine enough, anyhow for the moment, and once more he promised that he would never fight again – etc., etc.

The next day a message was received from Murad to the effect that he had collected a fine quantity of bhusa, and that it was piled up in fourteen great stacks ready for transport, if camels could be sent to fetch it.

Word was sent back that I would go myself on the morrow to Karsimabad with the camels, and a small escort, in order that it might be possible to thank and pay him in person.

Accordingly orders were given for the escort and camels to be ready to start early the next morning.

But, that night, news was brought by one of Landon's intelligence men which caused a modification of these plans.

It should here be mentioned that Major Landon had, shortly before, been obliged to leave me. It will be remembered that he was one of but three Intelligence Officers in Persia, and had therefore to return to his duties. His place as my Brigade Major had been taken by a very able Staff Officer, Major Sanders of the 36th Sikhs.

The news the scout brought me was to the effect that Jiand knew all about my proposed visit to Karsimabad, and was planning to attack in force, and capture me. He had been waiting for a good opportunity to lure me out of Khwash, and now felt he had his chance.

"Well, he shall have it," I replied. "Only, we will disappoint him. For instead of going with only a small escort, we'll take a good part of our entire army, and the guns. He'll then have his work cut out."

The consequence being that when we marched out on the following morning we made an imposing spectacle. I determined to do the thing thoroughly, so took a considerable number of infantry, the cavalry, guns and a large convoy of camels.

We had only marched a short distance when one of the scouts came in with the information that all the bhusa at Karsimabad had been burned.

At first I could hardly believe my ears and told him he must be mistaken; that perhaps some of it had been burned by accident, but that fourteen stacks, the number Murad had mentioned as collected, could not all have been burned by this means. But the man proceeded to tell me that it was no accident. He himself had seen the scorched ground upon which the stacks had stood. They had been built sufficiently far apart to make it impossible to be burned by one setting light to another. Each stack had been separately and individually fired, and Murad had proof that it had been done by Jiand's men.

As may be imagined, I was nearly beside myself with rage at the news. It would entail untold suffering amongst our unfortunate beasts, who were already underfed. The act was unforgivable, especially when we were just hoping to obtain a safeguard against the worst months of the year.

The march of the column was immediately quickened. There remained but one thing to do – to go forward and ascertain the truth. If Jiand had really been guilty of this act he should be accommodated as regards fighting. So far everything possible had been done to create friendly relations with him, and over and above this he had been, throughout, generously and leniently treated. But patience has its limits, and there could be no more leniency.

Despite the burning heat we managed to cover the distance in record time, and were within five miles of Karsimabad when the advance guard reported the enemy in sight, and in large numbers.

"Come out to capture me, I suppose!" I remarked to Sanders. "Jiand is, probably, still under the impression that we are coming with only a small escort. I wonder what he'll do when he sees the column – and the guns?"

What he did do we were soon to know. The old villain must have indulged in one short look to realise, once again, that he had been foiled in his attempt at a surprise; for I knew, by current rumour, that he stood in deadly terror of what the guns could do. He had certainly never seen them working, but had heard the rattle of the Maxims at Koh-i-taftan, and had a wholesome dread of their destructive possibilities. When, therefore, the cavalry and the guns came into view, instead of attacking, he sent a messenger ahead to meet me, and to ask whether he might come and do me honour!

"Tell him," I replied, still furiously angry, "that it is not a case of may he come – he must come himself and instantly. I am in no playful mood as he will find to his cost."