around his horse and those of his aides. Daoud tried to force the crowd back with the flat of his sword, but weight of numbers told and he and his aides were dragged from their mounts. As George and the others looked on in horror, the enraged mob struck at the defenceless officers with clubs, stones and even their fists.
'Should we fire into the crowd, Sir Louis?' asked Hamilton.
'Too dangerous. You might hit Daoud. But by all means shoot those on the fringes. It just might disperse them.'
Hamilton gave the order and a volley rang out from that side of the roof, bringing down ten or so rioters and causing the others to flee for cover. They left behind the three apparently lifeless bodies of the Afghan officers.
'My God!' exclaimed Cavagnari. 'If they're prepared to kill their own general, what hope have we?'
Barely had he finished speaking than a fusillade of shots began to ricochet off the roof behind them, the sound not unlike a swarm of angry bees. George knew at once that the mutineers were firing from above, which could only mean the upper fort. He looked up and saw the tell-tale puffs of smoke along the ramparts. 'They've taken the citadel, Sir Louis!' he shouted. 'We're sitting ducks if we stay here.'
'Harper's right, sir,' said Hamilton.
'Let's get below then,' said Cavagnari, dashing for the open trapdoor in the middle of the roof. Halfway across he staggered and fell to his knees.
Hamilton ran to his assistance. 'Are you badly hit, Sir Louis?'
Cavagnari put his hand to his forehead, which was covered with blood. 'A ricochet. I'll live. Get the others below.'
Hamilton gave the order and, one by one, his men followed Cavagnari through the trapdoor and down the ladder. As George waited his turn, a bullet zipped past the back of his head, causing him to duck. When he looked up the sowar next to him was lying slumped against the barricade, his sun helmet beside him and a neat blue hole in the side of his head where the Snider bullet had entered. Most of the far side of his skull had been blown away, and fragments of skin, bone and brain tissue were spattered over the face and helmet of the soldier beyond him. 'Aaaiee!' cried the man in anguish, as he wiped his face with his sleeve.
George couldn't help gagging as he stripped the dead sowar of his ammunition pouches and rifle before making his escape down the ladder. Ilderim, Jenkyns and Hamilton brought up the rear. In a corner room on the first floor below they discovered Dr Kelly, a short Irishman with a red beard, tending Cavagnari and the wounded Guides on the floor. Pir Ali lay unconscious beside them, while a sowar fired through the half-barricaded window.
'How's Sir Louis?' shouted Hamilton.
'It's just a flesh wound,' said Dr Kelly. 'The bullet glanced off his skull, but it gave him quite a bump and he needs rest.'
'I certainly do not,' said Cavagnari. 'We need every rifle we can muster. Just patch me up, Doctor, quick as you can. In the meantime, Hamilton, you'd better put a man on each window and a couple covering the trapdoor. They're bound to get onto the roof sooner or later.'
'Sir.'
'What about the gate from the inner courtyard to the lane beyond?' asked George, who had noticed that exit during his first visit. 'If the mutineers get through there we're finished.'
'One man's keeping an eye on it,' said Hamilton. 'But you're right. I'd better send a couple more.'
'I'm happy to go,' offered George. 'I'll take Ilderim Khan with me.'
'Very well. Meanwhile I'll check on the rest of my men in the infantry barracks. So you're a businessman, are you, Harper? Strikes me you've had some form of military training, even if it's just with the militia. Am I right?'
George smiled.
'I thought so. Follow me.'
They left the Mess House by the main entrance and at once split up. Hamilton turned right and headed for the main gate that led to the infantry barracks; George and Ilderim made for the opposite gate, a much smaller one set in the back wall behind
'Should we fire into the crowd, Sir Louis?' asked Hamilton.
'Too dangerous. You might hit Daoud. But by all means shoot those on the fringes. It just might disperse them.'
Hamilton gave the order and a volley rang out from that side of the roof, bringing down ten or so rioters and causing the others to flee for cover. They left behind the three apparently lifeless bodies of the Afghan officers.
'My God!' exclaimed Cavagnari. 'If they're prepared to kill their own general, what hope have we?'
Barely had he finished speaking than a fusillade of shots began to ricochet off the roof behind them, the sound not unlike a swarm of angry bees. George knew at once that the mutineers were firing from above, which could only mean the upper fort. He looked up and saw the tell-tale puffs of smoke along the ramparts. 'They've taken the citadel, Sir Louis!' he shouted. 'We're sitting ducks if we stay here.'
'Harper's right, sir,' said Hamilton.
'Let's get below then,' said Cavagnari, dashing for the open trapdoor in the middle of the roof. Halfway across he staggered and fell to his knees.
Hamilton ran to his assistance. 'Are you badly hit, Sir Louis?'
Cavagnari put his hand to his forehead, which was covered with blood. 'A ricochet. I'll live. Get the others below.'
Hamilton gave the order and, one by one, his men followed Cavagnari through the trapdoor and down the ladder. As George waited his turn, a bullet zipped past the back of his head, causing him to duck. When he looked up the sowar next to him was lying slumped against the barricade, his sun helmet beside him and a neat blue hole in the side of his head where the Snider bullet had entered. Most of the far side of his skull had been blown away, and fragments of skin, bone and brain tissue were spattered over the face and helmet of the soldier beyond him. 'Aaaiee!' cried the man in anguish, as he wiped his face with his sleeve.
George couldn't help gagging as he stripped the dead sowar of his ammunition pouches and rifle before making his escape down the ladder. Ilderim, Jenkyns and Hamilton brought up the rear. In a corner room on the first floor below they discovered Dr Kelly, a short Irishman with a red beard, tending Cavagnari and the wounded Guides on the floor. Pir Ali lay unconscious beside them, while a sowar fired through the half-barricaded window.
'How's Sir Louis?' shouted Hamilton.
'It's just a flesh wound,' said Dr Kelly. 'The bullet glanced off his skull, but it gave him quite a bump and he needs rest.'
'I certainly do not,' said Cavagnari. 'We need every rifle we can muster. Just patch me up, Doctor, quick as you can. In the meantime, Hamilton, you'd better put a man on each window and a couple covering the trapdoor. They're bound to get onto the roof sooner or later.'
'Sir.'
'What about the gate from the inner courtyard to the lane beyond?' asked George, who had noticed that exit during his first visit. 'If the mutineers get through there we're finished.'
'One man's keeping an eye on it,' said Hamilton. 'But you're right. I'd better send a couple more.'
'I'm happy to go,' offered George. 'I'll take Ilderim Khan with me.'
'Very well. Meanwhile I'll check on the rest of my men in the infantry barracks. So you're a businessman, are you, Harper? Strikes me you've had some form of military training, even if it's just with the militia. Am I right?'
George smiled.
'I thought so. Follow me.'
They left the Mess House by the main entrance and at once split up. Hamilton turned right and headed for the main gate that led to the infantry barracks; George and Ilderim made for the opposite gate, a much smaller one set in the back wall behind
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