She swallowed down sudden tears. She felt ridiculously pleased to see him. He was like a cherished link to John.
He smiled at her, his face weather-beaten and scored with exhaustion.
‘Mrs Buckley,’ he said, ‘what a sight to gladden the heart.’
Suddenly Emily cried out behind her. Alice spun round in alarm. Her friend was stumbling forward on shaky legs and throwing out her arms.
‘Sandy? Sandy!’
Her husband, almost unrecognisable with his fair face swollen and peeling from sunburn, hurried towards the sound of her voice.
‘My darling wife!’ he rasped, as he flung his arms around her. ‘Is it you?’
His eyes were so swollen they had closed up. Emily began babbling about Alexander and then broke down sobbing. Sandy held onto her, unable to speak. Alice’s heart twisted to see the naked love on their tear-stained faces. How happy she was to see them reunited.
Later, after the new arrivals had pulled off their boots from swollen feet and been given food and drink, they told their news. Colin MacRae had escaped after his fort had been set alight and comrades slain; he had hidden out in a cave for two weeks, living off birds and eating snow. Pottinger and Sandy had been handed over by Akbar for safe-keeping; a lame Pottinger and a snow-blind Sandy were a liability as hostages. They suspected that Akbar was planning an assault on Jalalabad, impatient at Sale’s refusal to leave the garrison town quickly enough.
‘The Sirdar keeps Sinclair with him at all times,’ Pottinger said.
Vernon exclaimed in disgust. ‘Doing his dirty work, is he?’
Sandy spoke up for John. ‘If it wasn’t for Sinclair we’d have no idea what was going on. He goes to great lengths to find out news and at some personal risk. But he appears to have friends among the Afridi between Jalalabad and Peshawar who supply him with information.’
‘What a surprise,’ Vernon muttered.
‘So what is the news from Jalalabad?’ Shelton asked eagerly.
‘Are we to be rescued soon?’ Frances’s querulous voice demanded.
The newcomers fell silent. Alice saw their tense looks.
‘Tell us, for God’s sake!’ Vernon cried.
Pottinger spoke, his voice drained of emotion. ‘Only one of us survived the march to Jalalabad – Dr Brydon, an assistant surgeon with the Bengal Army. Word has it the man arrived half-dead with a head wound.’
There was disbelief around Elphinstone’s room. ‘Only one?’ the ailing Elphinstone gasped. ‘That’s not possible! Surely others got through? Anquetil – others of the 44th – the gunners . . . ?’
Pottinger shook his head. ‘No others of any rank whatsoever.’
Elphinstone let out an agonised groan.
‘So there is no one coming to release us?’ Frances said tearfully.
‘Sir Robert is in no position to do so,’ said Pottinger. ‘Sinclair says he is fortifying the barracks as best he can so that the army keeps a foothold in Afghanistan and provides a springboard for any future rescue. At least, thanks to Sinclair, Sale knows that you all have survived.’
‘But you think Akbar is planning to attack Sale?’ Shelton said. ‘Is there any indication that reinforcements are to be sent from India before such an attack?’
Pottinger sighed and shook his head.
Sandy tried to give them hope. ‘We don’t know that Akbar intends to take the garrison by force. He would rather the British left without a fight.’
‘Of course he would,’ Vernon said with disdain. ‘But we shan’t oblige him.’
Alice felt dread at the thought of John stuck in the middle of such an attack. ‘But surely our best chance of survival is if the British agree to leave Jalalabad,’ she said, ‘and we are exchanged for Akbar’s family in India?’
‘We won’t let that savage dictate terms to the British Army anymore,’ Vernon said with venom. ‘Even the government in London will want to avenge the deaths of our comrades when they hear what has happened. An eye for an eye – that’s the only language these barbarians understand.’
Alice felt nauseated at the thought of further bloodshed. She clung to the hope that hostages could be exchanged – and their missing children returned – without any more killing. But deep down she knew it was a pipe dream.
Elphinstone mistook her harrowed look for fear. ‘My dear, take heart. Once the Governor General hears that the women and children have survived they are bound to send troops to free us from captivity.’
A sob broke out in the smoke-filled room. ‘Oh, Alexander!’ Emily cried. ‘Where is my bonny boy?’
For a short while, the prisoners were heartened by the arrival of letters from General Sale and other friends in Jalalabad, along with treats of tea and sugar, books to read and even chintz from which to make clothes and furnishings. Alice thought that life would be almost bearable if only she could hear some word of Lotty or Alexander’s whereabouts.
Then abruptly, one early morning, the whole camp was roused and their rooms searched.
‘You are to surrender all your weapons,’ Sultan Jan told them curtly.
The officers protested.
‘But the Sirdar promised we would not be disarmed,’ Shelton said angrily, ‘as long as our women need protection.’
‘He has changed his mind,’ the chief said brusquely.
‘It’s an outrage!’ Vernon growled. ‘An insult to the British. No Afghan would stand for such humiliation.’
Sultan Jan turned on him. ‘Then you should have thought of that before you insulted the Sirdar.’
‘What on earth do you mean?’ Vernon demanded.
‘Your letter to Sale was intercepted,’ the Afghan replied. ‘You told him not to trust Akbar or believe his promises that the women and children will be handed over safely. You encouraged him to use force against us.’
Vernon coloured. ‘You’ve no right to read my letters,’ he blustered.
The women looked on in dismay and the men cursed as the guards collected up the pistols and swords. Suddenly Dinah began wailing.
‘Please don’t take that!’ she begged, running after a guard. He was carrying away a sword. ‘It’s my husband’s. It’s all I have left of his. Please let me keep it. Please!’
She grew hysterical and threw herself down on the ground, beating her fists in the dirt. Florentia rushed to her daughter. ‘My dearest, don’t upset yourself.’
Alice went after Sultan Jan. ‘Please let her keep it. She will give birth to Captain Sturt’s baby this summer but will have nothing to pass on to his child.’
‘I can’t,’ said the chief. ‘The Sirdar has ordered it – he no longer trusts you British.’
‘Then tell the Sirdar to keep it for himself,’ Alice pleaded. ‘So I can tell Mrs Sturt that it is in safe hands and he’ll return it when we leave Afghanistan.’
Sultan Jan hesitated and then nodded in agreement. Alice hurried to Dinah to reassure her of the sword’s safekeeping.
‘You don’t believe him, do you?’ Vernon was scathing. ‘He’ll most likely keep it for himself.’
Alice gave him a look of contempt. ‘Your lack of trust has led to this. You shouldn’t have written such a letter.’
‘At least I’m trying to do something about getting us released,’ Vernon snapped.
Colin spoke up. ‘Looks like it’s had quite the opposite effect, Buckley,’ he said, and went to comfort a distraught Dinah.
The letters stopped and the prisoners turned anxious and despondent at the lack of news. Sultan Jan left and was replaced by a Ghilzai called Mirza who became their chief gaoler. He was meaner with their rations. One day he brought in some old newspapers sent from Akbar.
‘That’s a good sign, isn’t it?’ said Sandy. ‘Perhaps the Sirdar is relenting and we’ll be able to correspond again soon.’
‘They’re months out of date,’ said Vernon scornfully. ‘Ancient history. Completely useless.’
With little to do, Sandy and Colin began to leaf through them. After a fe
w minutes, Colin looked up from his paper with a quizzical look.
‘What is it?’ Alice asked.
He beckoned her over. ‘Take a look at this.’ He pointed to a word and then another on the line below.
Alice was baffled. ‘What am I looking for?’
Colin gave a watchful glance around the courtyard. The guards were squatting down and smoking, paying them no attention. Colin pointed again.
‘Dots,’ he said quietly, ‘below the letters.’ He drew out a stub of a pencil and tore off a piece of newspaper, writing down the dotted letters.
Alice stifled a gasp. ‘Is it a code?’
Colin continued. After a few minutes he had deciphered a message. Pollock gathering army in Peshawar. The friends looked at each other. Alice felt her heart begin to race.
‘Who is it from?’ she whispered.
‘Can only be John,’ said Colin. ‘He must have convinced Akbar that sending on old newspapers wouldn’t cause any harm.’
Alice grinned. ‘Oh, the clever, wonderful man!’
Colin smiled but put a finger to his lips. ‘Let’s see if there are any other messages.’
Eagerly they scoured the newspaper but found no further marks. Colin swapped journals with Sandy. There were some more dots in the second newspaper – no bigger than pinpricks – and Alice was amazed Colin had spotted them at all.
‘Well?’ Alice asked, hardly able to contain her impatience.
He looked up, a strange, intense look on his haggard face.
‘What is it?’ Alice felt her stomach clench. She braced herself for bad news.
Colin placed the scrap of paper in her hand. ‘Read it.’
Alice peered at the message. Fair child seen among Afridi, well treated. Will negotiate for return.
Tears stung her eyes. ‘Lotty,’ she whispered. ‘Do you think John’s found Lotty?’
Colin covered her hand with his and gave it a squeeze of encouragement. ‘Let’s pray that he has.’
Alice felt a sob rise in her chest. She covered her mouth to stop a shriek of excitement escaping her lips.
Alice was helping Gita spread out washing on the roof to dry in the late February sun when she heard the thunder. She looked in puzzlement at the cloudless blue sky. A few moments later she heard it again, yet this time it sounded more like the rumble of heavy carriages. Alice shaded her eyes and peered into the valley in alarm. The snow was receding and the river looked swollen from melting ice but she could see no approaching force.
Suddenly the mud roof beneath their feet began to tremble. Alice saw a look of horror spread across Gita’s face. The ayah grabbed at Alice’s arm and pulled her towards the steps. People came to the doors of their rooms and the children stopped their play to cock their ears.
An explosion like a mine going off sounded in the distance.
‘What’s that?’ one of the Trevor children called out. ‘Is it the enemy?’
Suspended at the top of the steps, Alice saw a cloud of dust rise from the bottom of the valley. At that moment, the walls of the fort began to shake and buckle as if they shimmered in summer heat. Then Gita was pulling her down the steps.
CHAPTER 37
A scream tore through the tranquil air as people stumbled into the open.
Someone bellowed, ‘It’s an earthquake!’
‘Get away from the walls!’ Colin shouted.
People rushed about, grabbing their children and trying to keep their balance as the earth heaved and cracked and the walls rocked from side to side.
‘Into the log room!’ Jamieson ordered, pushing people towards the wooden cabin in the centre of the courtyard. ‘It’s furthest from the walls.’
The air filled with screams and terrified shouts as walls came crashing down and roofs caved in around the square. Thick dust enveloped them, making them choke and gasp for breath.
Emily screamed through the thick cloud. ‘Where’s Walter? I haven’t got Walter!’
Alice stumbled towards the sound of her voice. ‘Where did you leave him?’
‘In his cot,’ she wailed, grabbing at her. ‘He’s sleeping in his cot.’
‘Stay where you are!’ It was Colin’s voice cutting through the dense cloud of dust. ‘I’ll find him.’
The women clung together. Alice thought the world was coming to an end. All she could think of was that Lotty was out there somewhere and she could do nothing to protect her. How widespread was the quake? She gave way to terrified tears.
Then abruptly the shaking stopped. The earth seemed to groan in pain and then it went quiet. A baby’s crying filled the vacuum. Colin, caked in dust, stepped through the settling cloud like a moving statue, clutching a squalling Walter.
Sandy rushed to relieve him of his son. ‘Thank you, MacRae!’ he gasped, his eyes streaming from the gritty air.
Alice helped Emily step gingerly towards her husband. The couple clung to each other and their infant in palpable relief.
As the atmosphere cleared, Colin took charge, counting heads and assessing the damage. Miraculously, everyone appeared to have survived. Even the bed-bound Elphinstone had been hauled from his room by one of his devoted men. The general lay coughing and grey-faced on someone’s coat.
The roof of the room Alice shared with her friends and the Trevor family had completely caved in and the hut had been obliterated. If Gita hadn’t acted so quickly, Alice would have been crushed to death.
Frances started screaming. ‘Where’s Nabob? I can’t find him!’
Colin tried to calm her. ‘Cats have nine lives. He’ll have leapt to safety.’
But she wouldn’t be consoled. ‘I can’t bear any more of this terrible place! I must find him. Please help me, Lieutenant. Life won’t be worth living without my Nabob!’
Colin set about organising the soldiers to clear the courtyard of debris.
‘Best if we stay out in the open. There could be aftershocks. We’ll bring out the bedding and rig up some awnings.’
Vernon, speechless until now, said, ‘Well done, MacRae. Good to see the artillery doing some work for once.’
Colin grunted. ‘You can lend a hand too, Major Buckley. Unless you don’t want to get your pretty cavalryman’s hands dirty.’
When Vernon didn’t round on Colin for insubordination, Alice realised how much her husband was in shock.
As Colin predicted, there were further tremors throughout the day. The upper walls of the fortification had tumbled into the outer ditch, leaving a view down the valley. It was still blanketed in dust. The earthquake appeared to have been far-reaching; distant forts that they had passed a month ago were no longer on the skyline. A shocked Mirza and the other Afghan guards could tell them no more. They looked anxious and talked among themselves.
That night most of the prisoners slept outside but the single men gave up their room to Florentia and Dinah, who chose to stay indoors. Florentia was defiant. ‘It’s like a barrack-room out here. I’ll not let an earth tremor turn me out of my bed.’
Alice was woken in the early hours by a squeal from Frances.
‘Nabob! You’re alive!’
The cat was sitting on top of its mistress, licking its paws as if it had merely returned from a night prowl. Alice lay back listening to Frances’s gushing endearments and smiled. When everything else seemed so bleak, she was glad that the poor bewildered Lady MacNaughten could find comfort in the safe return of a missing cat.
The days that followed were punctuated by alarming earth tremors like a beast shuddering in pain. None were as bad as the original earthquake but they left everyone on edge. Mohammed Shah came to survey the damage to his fort and to make sure they had what they needed to survive. He sent men to help clear the worst of the rubble and supply extra blankets, for the nights were still intensely cold and the prisoners woke each morning with their bedding soaked in dew.
The old chief told them that there had been far worse devastation along the valley – whole forts had disappeared and scores of people had die
d. Mohammed Shah looked so harrowed that Alice wondered if the poor man had lost family close to him. The quake had ripped through the mountains as far as Jalalabad. It was rumoured the garrison town had collapsed.
Dinah was in a state of near panic at the thought that her father might be injured or dead. She could not bear to lose him as well as her husband. Florentia tried to pacify her but Alice could tell the older woman was equally as worried. As for Alice, her mind was filled with dark thoughts. Had Lotty been saved by the Afridi only to be devoured by the earthquake? What had happened to John? Was he alive? If the unthinkable had happened and he was not, who then would be able to rescue her daughter?
Even in the midst of his own concerns, Mohammed Shah was deeply worried about Elphinstone, seeing how frail and ill the commander had become.
‘You will not survive in these conditions, my friend,’ he said gravely. ‘I will see about having you taken down the mountain where you can be properly tended to. I do not want it said that a sirdar of the British died while a guest in my home.’
Lady MacNaughten latched onto this. ‘I must be taken too, Mr Shah,’ she insisted. ‘I’ve suffered too much. My husband was a sirdar too, don’t you know? And murdered by your son-in-law. You must help me. I’m not like the other ladies – I don’t have a husband to look after me like they do. It’s intolerable for me.’
Seeing the look of annoyance on Florentia’s face, Alice quickly intervened before the forthright woman pointed out to Frances that she was by no means the only woman there without a husband.
‘I’m sure the chief will do all he can for you, Lady MacNaughten,’ said Alice. ‘Now, isn’t it time for Nabob to be fed?’
Days of anxiety went by, the fear and not knowing what had become of Lotty and John eating away at Alice’s spirit. No news came; not even precious out-of-date newspapers with their optimistic coded messages. It was the quiet, sensible Gita who kept her from losing all hope. She sat beside her and coaxed her into mending clothes, trying to keep her occupied. Her boys helped with the clearing up and building makeshift shelters. Alice saw that the way to ward off melancholia was to do mundane repetitive jobs and live each hour at a time. Small enjoyments kept her sane; the warmth of the midday sun on her limbs and the sound of Bali and Adeep teasing and laughing together.
In the Far Pashmina Mountains Page 44
