Suakin, 1885/Chapter 1
SUAKIN, 1885.
CHAPTER I.
THE VOYAGE OUT.
In the dark days towards the end of January news reached England telling us the exertions of our soldiers on the Nile had been rendered fruitless by treachery at Khartoum. For several days the most conflicting accounts were received as to the real state of affairs. At one moment Gordon was said to have escaped the general massacre and to have retired towards the equator, at another that he was defending himself in a church; and then later on that he had fallen—
"His front with wounds unnumbered riven,
His back to earth, his face to heaven."
Few will ever forget those days; a dull sense of pain was felt by all as the cry was raised throughout the length and breadth of the land—Too late!
In spite of all the months of toil, and all the hardships and privations connected with Lord Wolseley's advance up the Nile; in spite of the hazardous march from Korti to Metemmeh and the shedding of some of England's best blood, a fragment of the expedition had only sighted the walls of Khartoum to find that treachery had been beforehand, and that one of England's greatest heroes had fallen when succour was almost within reach. But this was no time for inaction, the raison d'être of the Nile expedition was no more, the power of the Mahdi was enhanced, and the fall of Khartoum had brought thousands of recruits to his standards.
A perpetual succession of cabinet councils, the closing of the telegraph wires for all messages except those from the government to Lord Wolseley for two or three days, and then the decision was promulgated that a fresh expedition was to be despatched immediately to operate from Suakin.
There was no doubt about the feeling of the country at this time. We had been too late, it was true, but we must strike afresh now, strike with an irresistible force, and quell once and for all the power of the fanatic and the false prophet in the Sûdan.
It was no time now for further vacillation. The people of England demanded action; prompt, energetic, decisive. The cost was not to be counted; cost what it might a blow in real earnest was to be struck this time, and the power of the Mahdi crushed out for ever.
For a period of a fortnight there was a hurry and a bustle in all the war departments. Hundreds of fresh hands were taken on at Woolwich, and a scene of activity took place in the yards there such as has not been witnessed since the days of the Crimea.
In a few days the details of the new expedition appeared in the press, a number of vessels were immediately chartered for conveying this forte to the scene of operations; and orders were sent out to India and Egypt for the immediate purchase of a large number of camels, mules, and horses, for the use of the Transport. A week followed during which the various portions of the force were inspected by H.R.H. the Commander-in-chief, and then every day a constant succession of transports left the shores of England carrying a force more perfectly equipped in every detail than ever force was before.
On the evening of the 11th of February I was on my way home from the club, where I had been talking to various friends about the all-absorbing topic of the day. I was walking along the streets thinking what lucky fellows they were who were sailing the following week, and wishing, like every other soldier, that I could get a place somehow or other. I had reached my door when my reveries were interrupted by a telgraph-boy saying—
"Is this for you, sir?"
Quite unsuspicious of what it contained, telegrams in these days being pretty well as plentiful as letters, I was somewhat astonished when I found the purport of the message was as follows:—
"From the Adjutant-General.—Be so good as to hold yourself in readiness to proceed to Suakin at once, and report yourself here the first thing to-morrow morning."
Had it not been to save the feelings of my wife, and otherwise alarming the household, I should have relieved myself by a good cheer; as it was, however, I kept my feelings to myself, and commenced at once to put my affairs in order, and to make out a list of things I should require, and which were to be purchased the following day.
The next morning early found me in Pall Mall, reporting myself.
"Yes," said my interviewer, "you must proceed to Ireland at once, and fetch over some men from there in time to sail from Southampton on Tuesday next."
I must confess that, in spite of all my military ardour, this was rather a blow. To be ordered out was one thing, but to be started off to Ireland at two hours' notice, without a particle of kit belonging to me, was quite another pair of shoes. Putting on my pleasantest manner, therefore, and giving my assurance that I was perfectly ready to go anywhere I was ordered, I finished up by suggesting mildly that, being a married man with encumbrances, it was just a trifle inconvenient
"Well," said Sir , "we will see if we can manage it. Sit down a moment."
In a few minutes my destination was, I am thankful to say, changed for Aldershot, and I went down there the same afternoon to ask for a couple of days' leave.
Monday, 16th of February, found me again at Aldershot and the next morning at an early hour, and in drenching rain, we marched to the station en route for Southampton. We were all on board Transport No. 7 by one o'clock, and by three o'clock that afternoon were clearing our decks of visitors and saying good-bye to many friends, while bands played and crowds cheered again and again on the wharf. It is always an impressive sight watching troops embark for active service, but one thing there is no doubt about—it is worse for those that are left behind on the shore than for those in the ship.
The next morning we were out of sight of Old England, and getting into what seemed like dirty weather; and so it turned out, for in a few hours our ship was kicking her heels very freely, and many of us were feeling not quite the men we did twenty-four hours before. The Bay of Biscay kept up its old character, and we got severely knocked about. The men were in a miserable condition, and the troop decks' were swamped with water and littered with every conceivable article to be found in a soldier's kit I always find it very difficult to rise to the occasion at sea. "A life on the ocean wave" seems a horrible fate. This time proved no exception to the rule, and like many others on board, I spent two days in my bunk on a little ship's biscuit
Sunday afternoon brought us to "Gib.," which was looking very beautiful and very grand, as it always does. We were not long in getting on shore, and as we were to stop for four hours to take some gunners on board, we made up a party and drove down into the town to luncheon at the "Royal." "Gib." was looking its best; there had been plenty of rain, so wild flowers of all sorts abounded. After a luncheon, such as we had not eaten since leaving England, we took a walk round the North Front, and out to the neutral ground. There are few more imposing views than the Old Rock presents from the neutral ground. There is a wonderful air of majesty and strength about the place, and England will lose one of her brightest jewels when Gibraltar ceases to be her property. It is a place to be proud of, and there are few inches of it that are not familiar to me, as I was there more than five years one time. It was dark before we put to sea again, and as we rounded Europa Point a band was playing "Auld Lang Syne," and we could hear away in the darkness the sounds of cheering coming to us across the still waters of the Mediterranean. The next morning found us pitching and tossing about merrily in a heavy sea, with a magniticent view of the Sierra Nevada on our port quarter, the snow-clad peaks standing high up in the sky and gleaming brightly in the warm sunshine. It is almost always rough in this part of the Mediterranean, and a severe tossing is, as a rule, experienced until Cape Gata is rounded, when the wind and sea often drop suddenly. We were very unfortunate on this occasion as, by the afternoon, we were only doing four knots instead of thirteen or fourteen, our usual pace. The sea was dead ahead and broke clear over us from stem to stem. The destruction of crockery must have been considerable, the noise was almost indescribable; it was as if we were a big tin box full of pieces of china which some big giant had picked up and shaken to his heart's content. Soon after this we ran into lovely weather, the sun shone bright and warm, and the sea danced past us with its waves of deep sapphire hue. It was now time to set to work, for we had much to do in the next fortnight. The men had all to be fitted with their kharkee kit and served out with their cholera belts, goggles, spine-protectors, and veils. It certainly seemed as if the people at home had determined no pains should be spared to protect the soldier against the climate and the sun, although we on our side felt bound to confess that when we appeared in full battle array we resembled a number of perambulating Christmas-trees more than anything else.
We were also anxious to get the men to a little position drill, for many among them were young hands and had much to learn. Among my own men I found many who knew nothing whatever about a rifle, and many more who had never fired a shot; so, explaining to them that their own safety, to say nothing of my own, lay in their being able to use their rifles with effect, we started to work in real earnest and two parades a day of an hour and a half each was the order. But it was not to be all work and no play on board, for we were all intent upon having a merry voyage and enjoying ourselves while we could. A list was opened for a series of athletic sports, and in a short time the entries showed that we should have many an afternoon's occupation. The events were as follows:— Long jump standing, wheelbarrow race, tug of war, Chinese puzzle, and cock-fighting, and much amusement was derived every afternoon by carrying out the programme. But we were going to have evening entertainments besides this, and many of us were hard at work getting up a concert. Wherever there are soldiers you may depend upon it you will have music—music of a sort certainly, and not quite of a "Monday pop" order, but still music which gives a great deal of pleasure, and a great deal of amusement, and is not altogether without a little sentiment and pathos sometimes.
By good luck we had among the officers two excellent pianists, and several performers on the mandolin, banjo, accordion, and penny whistle; we also had one of the best performers on the bones it was ever my lot to hear. To fall back on, we had also in the company a professional dancer and a professional clown, also a conjuror; so we were a merry family all round.
Our days were taken up, then, as follows, and one was pretty much like another. Réveille sounded at six, then came breakfast at eight, prayers at nine, when the whole company were marched aft and at the word "caps off" the clergyman began reading a psalm followed by a few prayers, and finishing with the one for us soldiers. There was always something impressive to me in this service; it only lasted ten minutes, but every one was very attentive and all seemed to join in it. Prayers over, there came the first parade at 9.30, then dinners at twelve o'clock, and parade again at 1.45. At 3,30 we were running off the heats in the various athletic events till five o'clock, when "retreat" sounded and hammocks were drawn; the men also had their evening meal, but we did not have our dinner till 6.30. At 7.45, the piano having been carried on deck, music followed, till "First Post" sounded at 8. 30 p.m., "Last Post" half an hour later, and "Lights out!" at 9.15. So ended the ordinary day's routine at sea.
But I must go back a little. The next land we sighted was the Galita Islands, which are sadly in want of a lighthouse. These islands belong to Italy, and though the Government would be glad to erect a lighthouse there, people refuse to live on these islands, as they are said to be haunted—at least so runs the story.
On the 26th of February we saw Cape Bonn, on the African coast, far away on our starboard beam, and about midday we passed quite close to Pantalaria, a very fine-looking place, and used by the Italians as a convict station.
At 9.30 p.m, on the same day we passed Gozo, and at 10 p.m, we sighted Valetta lights. After this we saw no land till we reached Port Said at 4 a.m. on the 2nd of March. Meanwhile our concerts were in full swing. The officers began by giving one to the men, the programme consisting of two piano solos, a comic song or so, two vocal duets, and a reading. The following night the men returned the compliment by giving a concert to the officers, and most amusing it was. A private soldier took command of the piano, and, defying any interference on the part of the singer, continued to bang out an accompaniment sometimes at the top of the piano and sometimes at the bottom, but always alike utterly and hopelessly independent of time and key, However, every one appeared very well satisfied, and the pianist above all. There was one man, a sergeant in the A.H.C., who had a really beautiful voice, a high tenor and well trained. He only knew two songs by heart, but these were both very good, and he took the precaution to have as his accompanist the accordion-player. The refrain of the most effective of his songs was one pointing out the uncertainties of life, and finishing with the words—
"What is coming, who can tell?"
This was encored again and again. The only other song with a certain sadness in it was sung by a trumpeter boy not more than fifteen years of age. He stood up a little nervously before the audience and sang a song the name of which I never heard, but the verses finished with—
"It's only a leaf in my Bible,
I picked from my poor mother's grave."
He used to sing this song very frequently, as the men seemed fond of it, but I always noticed there was a certain quietness when it was over, though not from want of appreciation. There were many other well-known songs, and one of the most popular was that old friend the chorus of which runs—
"Wrap me up in my old stable-jacket,
And say a poor buffer lies low,
And six stalwart comrades shall carry me
With steps solemn, silent, and slow."
It is always a mystery where the things come from, but soldiers never seem at a loss if anything is required, never mind what it may be. In this way, and to our utter astonishment, the professional clown appeared rigged up in a complete fancy kit, with a wig, a very large false nose and spectacles, and a "billycock" hat. Some excellent step-dancing followed, and then hats off and "God save the Queen," which was never omitted.
Our musical talents were further turned to account, and a choir having been formed, we managed to chant the whole service on Sundays, both morning and evening, very creditably.
The dawn was just breaking as we dropped anchor at Port Said, and as we were to go through the disagreeable proceeding of coaling, every one who could get ashore did so directly after breakfast. The town lies on a dead level scarcely two feet above the water, and as far as the eye can reach is one endless extent of sand as flat as a billiard-table. We found some good ship-chandlers, where we bought sundry provisions at a price, also one or two shops of the Bon Marché order, where one could obtain anything, from a tea-tray to a double-barrelled gun, or from a Bath bun to a complete suit of Chinese armour. Port Said has, however, been described over and over again, no doubt, so it is not worth while wasting many words on it here. By 11.30 a.m, we were all on board, and shortly afterwards we started to wend our weary way along the canal to Suez. I say "weary way" because this is a very wearisome journey. The speed is limited to five miles an hour, and setting aside constant stoppages, the risk of running aground, and the compulsory halts for the night after 6 p.m., there is nothing to relieve the monotony of the surrounding scenery. The canal is hemmed in by banks on each side, and as these are in many places high, a sense of breathlessness and suffocation is experienced. We were very unfortunate, as we had only reached the first Gare, some seven miles from Port Said, when the vessel in front of us went aground, and in spite of much tugging and hauling could not be got off again. There was nothing for it then but to make the best of it, so, having made fast to the banks, we took our men ashore in squads of twenty and practised them firing at some extemporized targets in the shape of old biscuit-boxes. This kept us employed till dark, when we returned on board hoping for better luck next day. There are some curious anomalies regarding the navigation of the canal. If a ship goes aground those behind it must stop too, though there is often plenty of room to pass. If demurrage is claimed by the owners of the vessels thus delayed the sum realized goes to the Canal Company. Again, the company compel every vessel to take one of their pilots; but if a vessel happens to go aground the pilot is not to blame, and moreover the damage that may be done to the banks of the canal by his running the ship ashore is at once claimed against the owners of the vessel. The cost of going through the canal is nine shillings per ton, and a further charge of nine shillings a head for every one on board except the working hands. Our ship, therefore, cost the sum of £1823. This will give some idea of what it must cost the country to send this expedition through the canal. It must be a nice little item in the total expenditure when the number of ships and number of men are taken into consideration.
The first point of any interest after leaving Port Said is the Lake Menzalah, or ancient Serbonian Bog, where the great plague of the fifth century B.C., which afterwards desolated Athens, originated, and from which too almost all the plagues which swept over Asia Minor and across Europe in the Middle Ages are supposed to have had their origin. The shores of the lake, as well as its shallow waters, are almost always covered with thousands upon thousands of flamingoes, standing all exactly in the same position and in lines fully three quarters of a mile in length. Ten miles further on you pass the Gare of El Kantara, through which runs the direct road from Cairo to Jerusalem. There are a few reed and mud huts adjoining the ferry, and it was here we saw the first of our future friends—a camel. We dragged along slowly and lazily in the burning sunshine, for the weather had now become very hot, and we had quite given up work in the middle of the day, our parades being early and late. The rest of the time was employed studying maps and books on the Sûdan. We had each been served out with four or five maps of Suakin and its surroundings, also of the route to Berber. These were all printed on white calico. We had also each a small English-Arabic Vocabulary, and a "Report on the Egyptian Provinces of the Sudan, Red Sea, and Equator" issued by the Intelligence Department. The Arabic Vocabulary was the cause of endless amusement, and shouts of laughter were to be heard over the catechisms that went on and the efforts at pronouncing some of the most unpronounceable words.
Just before sunset we arrived at Lake Timsah, and got a sight of Ismailyeh. We did not stop here, but proceeded through the lake and into the canal again, where we anchored for the night between high banks and in a suffocating atmosphere. The next morning, by seven a,m., we were entering the Bitter Lakes, or Waters of Marah, and glad we were to get into this wide expanse of water, as we were able to quicken our pace a bit. We had a fine view of the mountains Gebel Geneffe, which run down the western side of the lakes, and about five miles inland. It must be twenty miles or more through these lakes, and then you enter the last section of the canal again, and before long sight the Mountain of Deliverance, or Gebel Attaka, at the foot of which stands the town of Suez. It is at the base of this mountain that the Israelites are supposed to have crossed the Red Sea. We were out of the canal by three p.m., and at anchor in Suez harbour before four o'clock (4th March). The port or harbour of Suez is connected with the town by a narrow isthmus about two miles in length, and along which runs the railway. A large open space adjoining the main wharf had been turned into a depôt for the camels, which had been collected from all parts of Egypt, and brought there to be branded with the Broad Arrow preparatory to being forwarded on to Suakin. There were about two thousand or more of these animals, and a great number had been already sent on.
We had no time to go ashore, and only just managed to get our first letters from England before we were off again. While we were in harbour three other transports came in, and as we steamed out again about seven o'clock, the troops on board these cheered lustily, rockets were sent up, blue lights burnt, and trumpets and bugles sounded the "Advance" and the "Charge." Of course we cheered back again till we were all as hoarse as crows.
We had been the first ship to leave England, and were very keen to be the first to arrive at Suakin; so our disappointment may be imagined when we suddenly discovered that we were going dead slow, and that something was wrong with our boilers. By the next morning these were repaired, and though we had lost a good bit of our start, we were still ahead of the other transports. We all began to feel the heat very much, and what little wind there was happened to be right behind us, so we regularly panted for breath in the middle of the day. Going down the Gulf of Suez, we had the coast in view the whole while. It is a fine, rugged outline, but the mountains looked utterly bare and barren, and there did not appear to be a particle of vegetation anywhere. The next day was rough, but the wind still behind us. It always is more or less rough in the Red Sea, and there is almost sure to be a strong wind blowing either up or down it. I know this time the sea was quite high enough to make some of us feel very uncomfortable. We had lost sight of the coast since leaving the Gulf of Suez, but as the sun went down in a mist on the evening of the 6th of March, there stood up against it the sharp peak of some great mountain, and then we knew that the end of our journey was approaching, and that the next morning would see us saying good-bye to the comforts of board ship-life, for we should be off Suakin.