By this time the day was quite spent, and a night pitchy dark, had overspread the ground; so that numbers of the camp-followers, especially those that had lost their all or their master, availed themselves of the darkness to mix with the Marhattas, and none remained but noblemen, officers, men of known faces, and soldiers of character; and as Mir-qhàir-ollah was passing from one army to another, and a report had spread of an approaching treaty, most of these also were looking out for an opportunity of making their private agreements. Amongst these was Mir-habib, a man of distinction, who being highly discontented with Aaly-verdy-qhan, had already commenced a connection with the enemy, and waited only for a favourable opportunity to desert. For about the close of the night, the Marhattas had pitched a pair of colours in a conspicuous part, as a sign of quarter and forgiveness; from whence they were calling out, that who­ever wanted to be safe in his life and property, had only to repair to it. At sight of the colours, those that had not a spark of honour in their constitution, and were not ashamed of themselves, com­menced under a variety of pretences, to steal off by whole bands; and this was enough to demolish the Viceroy without a single blow. Luckily that the Marhattas themselves provided against so general a desertion; for on observing that none of those deserters came, but with their hands full, they fell a plundering and a stipping them, and by such a proceeding effectually put a stop to any farther defection. The Viceroy finding it impossible to stop the torrent, or to contrive an expedient to retrieve his affairs, quitted his tent in the middle of the night; and without any attendant, or any taper-bearer, he took Seradj-eddöulah by the hand, and went on foot to Mustapha-qhan’s tent, where he desired him to get up, as he had something to tell him. The General, astonished at what he saw, and amazed at what he heard, got up in an instant, and going into one of the two recesses of his tent, he sat himself down, and asked what were his commands. The Viceroy answered: “Hear me, friend Mustapha-qhan. Nothing is dearer to man than his life; but my situation is such now, that the easiest and the foremost business I have to do, is to die. Needless it is for you, then, to contrive far-fetched expedients for the purpose of getting rid of me. Are you dis­satisfied with my person on account of some matters that have come to pass? Here I am, ready at your hands with Seradj-eddöulah, who is dearer to me than my ownself. We are alone; dispatch us immediately. Do your business at one stroke, and rid yourself at once of all your incertitudes. But if some remembrance of a friendship of long standing, and some grati­tude for benefits received, have yet a place in your heart, and you can afford to forgive some transgressions of mine, that are now past; if you are inclined to stand by me in this des­perate moment, then renew your engagements with me, and do swear anew that you shall not forsake me: this being the only way to make me easy on that head, and to leave me at liberty to think of what is to be done with the Marhattas; as I am firmly resolved to leave nothing unattempted rather than to submit.” The General cofounded at the suddenness of the address, and moved by the importance of its purport, anwered: “That he could not speak alone on those heads, but must consult the other officers, his countrymen; and that then he would report their answer.” The Viceroy, without being dis­concerted by so much coldness, answered: Then do; I have no objections. Upon which the General sent to Shimshir-qhan, to Serdar-qhan, and to the other Afghan Commanders, desiring their immediate attendance. As soon as they were assembled, he turned towards the Viceroy, and addressed him in these words: “Let your Highness say to these officers what you have just said to your soldier;” and this being complied with, the assembly heard in silence, but said not one word. Upon this the General addressing himself to them all, spoke in these very words: “Brethren, why do you not answer? Say what you have in your minds.” To this both Shimshir-qhan and Serdar-qhan, in the Aaly-verdy-qhan recovers the affection of the Afghans. name of all the others, answered: “That he, Mustapha-qhan, being their chief Commander, and the principal man of their nation, whatever he should answer, would be reputed their own answer.” Upon this the General said: “Friends, since you want to hear my particular sense of this scene, I shall tell you frankly, what­ever I had hitherto in my mind, I have only had, and it is past. At present, my head, and life, and that of my family, and of whosoever belongs to me, I have thrown at the feet of that my master and cherisher, and so long as this head shall stick to this body, I have made a legacy and gift of it to Aaly-verdy-qhan, to his children, and to his family. Nay, so long as Mustapha-qhan is alive, he shall acknowledge that his head is made fast to the horse-shoe of the least of His Highness’s slaves,* I tell you so myself. But our case is not desperate; nor need you, my friends, to be informed anew of that adage so well known amongst us: that if forty sabres should come to agree together, they might bestow a kingdom. We are still more than three thousand horse, and of course, we can fight; for to look so dismayed, and with such an air of despair, is the heighth of cowardice. I hope, by the blessing of God, that we shall thresh those infidels, and that victory shall be ours, after all. Now, Gentlemen, I have told you my mind. Do take your own party, and act as you shall think best.” This speech having been listened to with attention, they all came into Mustapha-qhan’s opinion, and the party of standing by the Viceroy pre­vailed. Upon which the General having by a sign* offered to pronounce a short prayer on the resolution just taken, they all stood up, and joined him. The Viceroy pleased with what he had seen, returned to his tent, and slept a hearty nap. In the morn­ing he dispatched a particular friend of his, called Gholaam-aaly-qhan, with orders to visit the General, to examine by himself the looks of the Afghans, and to report his observations on that sub­ject. Gholaam-aaly-qhan was a nobleman of character and dis­tinction, who had for some time acted as Divan of the province of Azim-abad, and his son, Y8ss8f-aaly-qhan, had espoused a daughter of Ser-efraz-qhan’s, and was intimately connected with the Afghan General. This nobleman having repaired to Mustapha-qhan’s tent, spent some hours in conversation with him, and he was getting up, when a man sent by Shimshir-qhan announced “That the ensigns and standards they had asked from the Mar­hattas in the agreement of yesterday, would be coming to-day; and that he wished to know what he intended to do now.” The General answered, by repeating the whole transaction of last night, and he ended by these words: Whoever is the son of an Afghan will stand by the agreement of yesternight. The envoy having heard so much, returned to Aaly-verdy-qhan, to whom he reported punctually every thing he had heard, to the great satisfaction of the Viceroy, who being now easy in his mind, resolved to fight the enemy. And truly to hear such expressions at so critical a moment from a powerful and zealous friend never fails to inspire with fresh courage, and to afford an additional degree of daringness. The Viceroy then after a short consultation, resolved to cut his way through the enemy, and to effect a retreat to M8rsh8d-abad; from whence he expected that, after having dried his wings, and trimmed his feathers, he would be able to come out again and to oppose a front to the enemy. By this time the evening was come again, and the Marhattas having planted upon a tree a field-piece that had fallen in their hands in the first plun­der of the Bengal camp, were incessantly showering balls through­out the enemy’s ranks, as well as throwing an infinity of rockets; so that nothing was heard throughout the army for the whole night, but cries and screams. Insomuch that Manic-chund, Divan to the Radja of Bardevan, having taken fright at such a scene of slaughter and confusion, thought proper to disappear at day-break, and to make the best of his way to his master. At that very time, and in the darkest part of the night, the Marhattas fell again upon the Bengal army, and attacked it on all sides; so that the Viceroy had hardly time to mount his elephant, and face the enemy. As the attack was so sudden, and every one had run to The Vice­roy fights his way through the enemy. arms in confusion, there remained no possibility of arraying ranks, or of recovering from the disorder into which the troops had fallen, for the Marhattas had already penetrated to the very centre; and there Mir-habib, who had not been as alert as the others, was surrounded, wounded in three places, and felled to the ground, where he was taken prisoner; after which he joined the Marhat­tas and took service with them. In this extremity, Haïder-aaly-qhan, who managed the field-artillery in the Viceroy’s service, proved exceedingly useful, by sweeping down vast numbers of the enemy. On the other hand, Mustapha-qhan, and Shimshir-qhan, and Umer-qhan, and Serdar-qhan, and Rahem-qhan, although fighting pell-mell, were performing such feats of prowess, and killing and wounding so many of the enemies, especially of the bravest and most forward amongst them, as effectually damped their ardour, and their Commanders intimidated by so much valour, ceased to surround them on all sides, and forming themselves into one body afresh, they wheeled round and fell upon the army’s flank. This movement having afforded the Bengal troops time to take breath, they formed into a compact body, and continued their march to Catwa, fighting their way through the enemy’s ranks. But now the remainder of the baggage was gone, and no clothes, no accommodation whatever, no victuals remaining at all, two or three thousand men, mounted on famished horses, and five or six thousand musqueteers, fainting with hunger and fatigue, were in full march, fighting all the way, and all the way starving. The Marhattas were every way round them, and every way harassing them with continual attacks, and eternal skirmishes that endlessly succeeded each other. But these did not dismay the Bengal troops. Encouraged by the firmness of their General, and animated by the prowess of their Commanders, they faced about every way, and constantly repulsed the enemy; and they went on fighting and advancing, and always intimidating the enemy by the brave actions they were continually performing. But these brave troops suffered as much for want of accommodations, as for want of victuals. Luckily that there is in the high road of Bengal to Djagennat, an infinite number of reservoirs of water and arti­ficial ponds, which the Gentoos are at much expense in digging, as they reckon such works to be of the most meritorious kind; and luckily that every one of these ponds is always surrounded by a mound whereon grows a multitude of trees. As soon as night was coming on, after every day’s march, one of these ponds served the whole army for their quarters. Every one, whether soldier or officer, sat himself down on the bare ground, and after having stuffed his bowels with a repast of tree-leaves and field-grass, every one stretched himself at length, and took some rest, with­out having all this while any other carpet than the bare ground, or any other covering than a rainy sky. Nor did any nobleman, or General in the army, fare much better than the common soldier; for every night the Marhattas were wonted to surround the enemy, as they did by day, but without approaching so near as to be hitted by a wall-piece; and as every tent, and every piece of baggage, and every ustencile, as well as every sort of provision, had been plundered by them, and they made it a practice every morning to send scouring parties on every side, and to burn and sackage every village at ten or twelve cosses round, the Bengal army found it impossible to procure any thing eatable; and the men commenced despairing not only of victory, but of their very existence. Jaded by daily marches and famished by daily abstinence, they could no more support themselves under their arms, and still less move with any vigour. Nor did the Generals and mighty Commanders prove to be in better circum­stances themselves with all their gold, being barely able to sup­port nature, and no more; the rest of the army crammed them­selves with leaves and barks of trees, with ants, and with such other food; particulars incredible, but which have been carefully recorded by that same Y8ss8f-aaly-qhan, who has left us memoirs of his campaigns, and in particular, of that hazardous retreat. He mentions that in their three days’ march to reach Catwa, all he could do was only to procure once about three quarts of a seer of kichery,* and that this fare was shared between seven noblemen accustomed to all the delicacies of a plentiful table. Another day they were supported by seven pieces of Sheker-para,* a kind of confectionary. Another day the same men could procure only half a seer of carrion amongst themselves; and whilst it was broiling, several others came in for a single mouthful, which could not be refused. It was in such misery as this, that the Bengal army was advancing on its march. All the artillery, small and great, being lost, and the enemies constantly hovering about them, only at so much distance as could insure their not being hitted by a wall-piece, nothing eatable could be procured on any terms. Such a state of things threw several Commanders into a kind of frenzy; and once in particular, Mus­tapha-qhan, angry and shocked at their cautious backwardness, said to those about him (and it was already dark): “What a shame to the Mussulman religion, and what a disgrace to the Afghan name, that the vilest of those Decanians should surround and press you on all sides every day and every night! And that instead of advancing upon those infidels, and seeking for a prompt delivery amongst them, you should suffer yourselves to be consumed by famine and by a lingering death!” Such a speech had its effect; and those about him, being most of them men of tried valour, they answered: “That he was their Com­mander, and that if he would but lead them on, they would follow.” Mustapha-qhan finding them in this mood, took up his sabre and bucler; and he advanced at their head little by little, dispersing his troops in small parties, as if they had been only so many spectators. Over against them was a body of Marhattas, who far from expecting such an attack from famished wretches, were all naked, had actually laid their arms and clothes on the ground, and were preparing for their devotions and their victuals, little inclined to mind those that were drawing so near. Mustapha-qhan and his people availing themselves of this security, drew their sabres, and rushing at once upon those proud infidels, they killed so many of them, that the others fled with all their might, leaving their kettles upon the fire, victuals ready-dressed just by them, and bags full of grain and provisions. Mustapha-qhan’s people seeing now the field free, loaded themselves with as much provision as they could carry, and returned to their camp; and this having been observed by others, they took the hint, and all returned loaded with grain and victuals. So that the famished ones, that had been fasting these three days, ate their full that day, and recovered from their feebleness. This adventure, how­ever, served to put the enemies upon their guard. Having felt the blows of Mustapha-qhan’s people, they became more cautious and did not press so close as before, but nevertheless they kept still at a distance; and it is through so much wretchedness, that the army was pressing its march to reach Catwa. In one of these marches the Bengal troops were suddenly attacked at the dawn of the day, and before the men had time to fall into their ranks, or the Viceroy to mount his elephant, the Marhattas making suddenly a vigorous attack, at once penetrated everywhere; and it being impossible to form or to join in one body, every one fought by himself just where he chanced to be; and surrounded by the enemies, every one thought only of extricating his own­self without minding how to succour his neighbour, or to come their Lord’s assistance. This Prince was himself under the same predicament, and fought alone, and surrounded. He was undone, unless a miracle was wrought instantly, and a miracle was wrought. Providence came that day to the assistance of the distressed by a memorable interposition. It was customary for two elephants loaded with standards and insignia, to march always precisely Two ele­phants save the Bengal army. before the Viceroy’s elephant; and their tusks were always loaded with a thick chain, with the jingling of which they seemed to amuse themselves.* These animals seeing close to them so many strangers of an unusual appearance and smell, at once listened to the word of command given them by Providence; and skil-fully managing their chain, they dealt it around at so dreadful a rate, that every stroke of theirs carried destruction to either man or horse. The Marhattas surprised at the strangeness of the sight, and not daring to approach, ceased to press so close; they retired at some distance, and gave time to a number of people to run to their master’s assistance, and to surround his elephant. Other troops availing themselves of this moment of respite, hastened to the Viceroy’s relief, and having now formed in great numbers, they fell upon the Marhattas that surrounded other corps, and extricated them likewise; and now the army having recovered from its disorder, the troops went on with their march; and the enemy that had broke amongst them and had penetrated everywhere, was driven out again with much slaughter. It was through such scenes of misery, slaughter, and wretch­edness, that the army had to advance on a road strewed with mighty dangers, and infested by endless difficulties and unfore­seen perils, but still repelling the enemy, and facing about every­where. At last by the Divine assistance they arrived at Catwa, a town and castle at two days south of M8rsh8d-abad.