CHAPTER XVI

AS POLICEMAN IN ADELAIDE

On arrival at Adelaide I called on the Governor of South Australia, then

Sir William Jervois, the distinguished Engineer officer, who, with

General Scratchley in Melbourne, was advising the Australian Colonies

with regard to the land defences. As I was shown into the private

secretary's room I was more than surprised to meet his son, Captain John

Jervois, who had been a cadet at the Royal Military Academy, Woolwich,

with me. We had a long chat. I told him of my varied experiences, some of

which naturally amused him much.

His father, the Governor, happened to be away, but he said he would

arrange for me to see him the next day. Next morning I received a message

from him to say that his father would be glad to see me, and would I

lunch with them? I did so, and after lunch His Excellency, Sir William,

asked me to his study. His son had told him all about me. Sir William

informed me that one of the forts which he had designed for South

Australia, Fort Glanville, had just been completed, that it had become

necessary to raise a small artillery unit to man it, and that he thought

I was just the man to raise and command it.

I must say I couldn't help smiling. I suggested to him whether, in view

of my experiences as regarded appointments, he really thought that I

ought to accept his very kind offer. He said "Certainly; go and see the

commandant"--General Downes, R.A. "I have already had a chat with him

about you. Talk it over with him and let me know what you decide. In the

meantime go and see the Chief Commissioner of Police, Mr. George

Hamilton, who lives at the Adelaide Club, and who will do all he can to

make you comfortable." The result of my interview with the general was

that I decided to stay on in the hopes of obtaining the appointment. He

promised to recommend me for it.

Later on in the day I called upon Mr. George Hamilton at the Adelaide

Club. He was a charming personality, well advanced in years. He was

kindness itself to me, and put me up as an honorary member of the club.

He told me that on the next day, which was the last day of the month, he

would be making his usual monthly inspection of the mounted and foot

police attached to the city of Adelaide. The police barracks were

situated not far from the club, on the other side of North Terrace and

beyond the Government House grounds. The front portion of the building

was being utilized as the Military Staff Office. It was a peculiarity of

the mounted police in Adelaide that they were all mounted on grey horses,

Mr. George Hamilton being of the opinion that the police force was

intended more to prevent crime than to punish criminals. He held that

mounted policemen on grey or white horses would be seen at a greater

distance, and recognized as such, better than if they were mounted on

horses of other colours, and their presence being quicker recognized,

would act as a deterrent to crime if such was premeditated. I accompanied

him on his inspection, and that small force, mounted and foot, was a

credit to South Australia.

I had been thinking seriously to myself, during the inspection, as to

what I was to do while waiting for my appointment. It occurred to me that

I had exhausted most means of making a livelihood that I knew of, and I

recognized the fact that I could not afford to let the days go by without

making some money to meet my living expenses. Walking back to the club

after the inspection, I asked the Commissioner what were the pay and

emoluments of a mounted police trooper. "Eight shillings and sixpence a

day," he said, "is their pay, free quarters, free uniform and travelling

allowance while on duty necessitating more than four hours' absence from

the barracks." Considering that the pay of a lieutenant of the Royal

Artillery was somewhere about six and fourpence a day and no emoluments,

the lot of a mounted policeman seemed a happy one. I straight away asked

Mr. Hamilton whether he would take me into the force. He seemed very

surprised, but I assured him I was quite in earnest. "Well," he said,

"there is a vacancy, but before I can promise you anything you must talk

the matter over with His Excellency the Governor, and take his advice."

His Excellency thought it was quite a good idea, and informed me that I

was to tell the Commissioner that he would be very pleased if I was taken

on. So it was arranged that I should join up on the seventh of the

month.

By this time I had been introduced to most of the members of the club and

some of their families. But it was quite evident that if I was to become

a policeman I couldn't remain at the club, nor could I be on visiting

terms with the elite of Adelaide. I therefore made up my mind to be a

policeman, a real policeman, and give up social festivities for the time

being. This decision met with the full approval of His Excellency and the

general, and, I need hardly say, of the Commissioner. The only exceptions

to this rule were that I would occasionally lunch at Government House and

at the General's home when convenient. I duly joined, and, remembering my

New Zealand experience, I swore to myself that I was not going to resign

until after being duly appointed to my next billet.

It is not to be wondered at that not only the corporal in charge of the

barracks, but the mounted troopers under his charge, were surprised to

see the Commissioner's young friend, who had been inspecting them a few

days before, joining their ranks. Only the mounted police were quartered

at the barracks, the foot police lived privately in their respective

districts and suburbs. I spent my first night in the barrack-room, and I

was glad to find that amongst the twenty-five or thereabouts of the

number of troopers, no less than six or seven were ex-officers or N.C.

officers of the army or navy, and the remainder were men who had been

selected from the pick of the many candidates who were continually

offering their services to the Commissioner.

A word about the corporal in charge--Corporal Campbell, an ex-salt, a

hard-headed, kind-hearted Scotsman. Corporal Campbell had to his credit

some thirty-five years of mounted police work in South Australia. The

greater number of those years he had spent in the northern districts of

the then young colony. In those early days the duties of the mounted

police in the far-off, unsettled districts were more than serious. They

lived away from civilization, supervising huge tracts of country,

necessitating travelling hundreds of miles at a stretch across

uninhabited country, lacking in food and water. It required men of iron

constitution and iron will to perform their duties. It wanted even more;

it wanted self-confidence and a thorough knowledge of their work to deal

equitably with the many points of dispute that from time to time arose

between the settlers and the native tribes. Practically the mounted

trooper was a magistrate. It was up to the mounted trooper to make all

preliminary inquiries not only into criminal charges, but in many cases

into civil disputes. Having done so it was up to him to prepare the cases

for the justice of the peace before whose jurisdiction those cases had to

be submitted.

The justices of the peace were men selected because they happened to hold

some interest in the district. What knowledge had they of the law? What

experience had they ever had of sitting as magistrates? Generally none.

Consequently the justices of the peace leant for support on the mounted

constables. It is to the credit of the mounted police of Australia, right

throughout the whole of it, in every colony, that within my recollection,

covering many years, I do not remember a single case of any serious

complaint against the force of mis-direction in advising the magistrates

when asked to do so.

While I had made up my mind to give up all social festivities, I reserved

to myself one privilege, so that occasionally I could be reminded of my

old social days. Perhaps my choice was guided by my success in the

theatrical profession. I took a seat in the theatre in what was the best

part of the house, next to the club box, for every Friday night. I used

to treat myself to a good dinner in one of the hotels, all alone, and

then went forth to enjoy the play. Adelaide at that time possessed only

one really first-class theatre, the Theatre Royal, in Hindley Street. On

these Friday nights I used to meet my men friends, but I did not allow

myself to have the pleasure of meeting their lady friends. I was a

policeman, and a policeman I had to be. It was really quite quaint.

Everybody knew me; they all knew who I was. But it was obviously up to me

to play the game.

A pleasing surprise awaited me the Monday morning following the day I

joined. Corporal Campbell informed me that the then drill instructor who

supervised the riding school and the instruction in sword and carbine

exercises, musketry and revolver practice, had sent in his resignation,

as he was going to get married and had decided to open an hotel in the

flourishing district on the Mount Lofty ranges, at the foot of which the

city of Adelaide is situated. He further told me that I had been

appointed drill instructor in his place, and that the rank of

acting-corporal had been conferred on me. This was indeed quick

promotion. Besides, it carried with it many privileges. In the first

place I could have a room to myself instead of sleeping in one of the

barrack-rooms; secondly, I was off routine duties, such as serving

summonses, investigating offences against the Police Act, and doing night

patrol duties. My daily pay was raised to ten shillings and twopence a

day, but I had to share with Corporal Campbell the responsibility of

being in charge of the barracks. My short experience in the North Island

of New Zealand stood me in good stead. My knowledge of military law and

procedure came in most useful, as it naturally comprised an intimate

acquaintance with the rules of evidence, most necessary in the

preparation of police-court cases. I felt that I was fairly qualified to

take on my new duties without any misgivings. Besides, Corporal Campbell

kindly offered to coach me in carrying on the discipline and economic

duties in connexion with the barracks, and the official correspondence

with the Commissioner's office.

One of the privileges of the drill instructor was to have his horse

attended to by one of the troopers. I did not avail myself of this.

A young horse, rising four, had just been bought, one of the handsomest

dappled greys I had ever seen, standing about fifteen hands three, full

of breeding. I selected him for my mount, and determined to look after

him myself. Cold work it was too in the early winter mornings to wash him

down, groom him and keep the saddlery and accoutrements in order. I

schooled him myself, and he promised to become a perfect hack and police

horse. A police horse needs to be taught the best of manners. He must be

thoroughly quiet, good tempered, and capable of being ridden in amongst a

crowd without being frightened. I succeeded beyond my expectations in

training him, and I was very pleased that he was turning out so well.

After about two months, however, he rapidly developed the worst of

habits. Suddenly, without any apparent reason, he would stop and refuse

to move. He would do this anywhere, on a country road or in the middle of

the street. It was no use plying the whip, or using a powerful spur. He

would not go forward. He would rear, or lash out with his hind legs, but

he would not move on. This happened only very occasionally, but, when it

did, it was most awkward, especially if I was in charge of an escort, or

on a ceremonial parade. It turned out that he was suffering from a sort

of horse-mania produced by having fed when young on a plant known in the

district, where he was bred, as the Darling Pea. Feeding on this plant

had this extraordinary effect upon horses. I was returning one day, after

being on duty at the races at Victoria Park, to the barracks. As I was

passing the Adelaide Hospital he stopped dead. After a few moments of

gentle persuasion I gave him a sharp touch with my spurs. He reared

straight up and fell backwards on the road. Luckily my face escaped

injury, but my chest and back were nearly flattened out. A few days in

hospital put me all right, and I returned to duty. He chose a fit place

to hurt me.

The overland railway to Melbourne was then being constructed, and a very

large railway camp was established in the Mount Lofty ranges, near a

place called Aldgate. In this camp were congregated all classes and

conditions of men, of several nationalities. I was in charge of the

barracks one evening when a report came in from the foot police station

that a girl had been nearly murdered. She had been found in the backyard

of a small house in a disreputable quarter of the city, with her throat

cut and a dagger wound in her breast. The nature of the wound pointed to

the attempted murder being the work of a foreigner, probably an Italian,

of whom there was a considerable number at the railway camp. I at once

ordered all the available troopers out to make the necessary inquiries in

the city and suburbs, and decided to proceed myself direct to the railway

camp at Aldgate.

Having a fair knowledge of the language I thought I might pick up some

valuable information on the way if I met any of the Italians. I started

about 10.30 P.M., dressed as an ordinary bushman, riding an old bay horse

which we kept for these occasions, and my revolver hidden but handy. The

distance to the camp at Aldgate was about eighteen miles, taking short

cuts with which I had already become acquainted.

I pulled up at several public houses on the road in the hopes of picking

up some clue. I failed till I reached a well-known hotel, the

Eagle-on-the-Hill, roughly half-way to Aldgate. The landlord, whom I had

to wake up, and whom I knew, told me that he had served with drinks,

amongst others, two foreigners, who had ridden up on one horse, and who

said they were on the way to the camp. They had evidently had a good deal

of drink; he had given them some more, and they had managed to climb on

to the horse again and had ridden away. He could not, however, tell me

what nationality they were. This had taken place about 11 o'clock, P.M.

It was now about 1 o'clock, A.M. The two men would be at the camp about

this time. I could reach it comfortably about 3 A.M. I got no further

information until I arrived at the camp. I had hoped to make my entry

quietly at that time of the morning, but I was disappointed. I had hardly

got near the tents on the left of the road when a whole troop of mongrels

commenced to bark furiously. I could not get into the camp without being

seen, as I had hoped. However, I found my way, after inquiries, to where

the man in charge lived.

When I had satisfied him as to who I was and on what business I was bent,

he put his services at my disposal at once. I told him I wanted if

possible to get hold of two men who had ridden up on one horse, that they

were foreigners, and I suspected Italians. To my joy he told me that he

had several men he could depend on who kept an eye on the camp generally

for him, both by day and night, and one of them might have noticed their

arrival, as the dogs were almost certain to have greeted them in the same

way as they had greeted me, especially if the horse they were riding had

come up to the tents.

He asked me to go with him while he made his inquiries. The first man he

roused up did not know anything about the matter. The second, however,

did. He had been late himself getting home, and curiously enough the two

men on the horse had passed him on the road about a couple of miles

before reaching the camp. It was a moonlight night, and he had noticed

they were pretty drunk, hardly being able to hold on to the horse. As

they passed him they called out to him, and he recognized them as two

Italians who were engaged in tunnelling, bad characters, red-hot

tempered, but good workers when sober. This was indeed a piece of luck. I

asked him if he could guide me to their tent. That was more difficult. He

was not sure; but he knew where the ganger who was in charge of the

tunnelling party hung out, and he would probably know their whereabouts.

I went back to where I had left my horse, got a pair of handcuffs I had

brought with me, and took one of the stirrup leathers off my saddle. When

I returned the ganger had been found and took us towards the portion of

the camp where the two men shared one of the dirtiest of tents I had ever

seen. By this time dawn was just breaking. I arranged with the ganger--he

was a good sort--that on arrival at the tent I would go inside and would

hold the two of them up. As they would be most probably in a heavy sleep

this would be a simple matter. Then, having handcuffed one, I would make

secure the other one's hands behind his back with the stirrup leather and

march them off to Adelaide; but in case anything went wrong inside and I

called out he was to rush in to my help. He agreed. I slipped out my

revolver, asked the ganger to hold up the lantern he was carrying so that

I could see inside the tent when I opened the tattered flap, and, raising

it, slipped inside. I had to stoop nearly double, the tent being very

low, and I could just see with the aid of the ganger's lantern.

A more filthy place is difficult to imagine. On very low stretchers

covered with rags by way of bedclothes lay the two men, one on each side

of me, with their heads towards the entrance to the tent. They were

sleeping heavily. I turned first towards the man on my right and suddenly

dropped heavily on him with my right knee on his chest, and before he

awoke to his senses I had him handcuffed. I turned over to the other one,

who was just trying to sit up, apparently dazed. I threw the stirrup

leather, the end of which I had passed through the buckle, making a noose

of it, over his head, and pulling at the end of it with all my might, I

backed out of the tent, dragging him after me. It was all done in a

minute, and I had them both bagged. The ganger was quite delighted as he

took hold of the stirrup leather to make the man secure while I went in

to pull out his handcuffed mate. This was easily done under the

persuasion of my revolver.

By the time they were both outside the tent they were wide awake. We made

them sit on the ground. I handed the revolver to the ganger and left them

in his charge while I searched their filthy abode. I was quite rewarded.

Underneath some rags which had served as a pillow to the handcuffed man I

found a knife with a blade about five inches long by some three-quarters

of an inch broad, such as is much in use amongst Italians. It was covered

with blood, some of which had not quite dried up. I also picked up a

dirty woollen comforter which he had evidently worn the night before and

on which were blood-stains of very recent date. I was satisfied; I found

nothing more of any value as evidence. My job was done; all that was left

was to escort my two prisoners to Adelaide.

It was now daylight. As there had been no noise few of the early risers

who came slouching out of their tents knew that any arrest had been made

until we were nearly out of the camp, and they took but little notice. I

thanked the man in charge and the ganger for their assistance, and, after

partaking of some coffee at the little cottage where the man in charge

lived, I started off with my two prisoners tied together, making for an

hotel not far off where I knew I could obtain a vehicle to drive them

down to Adelaide. I arrived in Adelaide all well, and by two o'clock they

were quickly and safely locked up in the police station. They were duly

charged and tried. The girl had recovered from her injuries, and the

culprit escaped with a long term of imprisonment instead of being hanged;

the other received a short sentence. My first attempt to hunt down

criminals had come off satisfactorily.

Shortly after I had joined the police my good friend, Mr. George

Hamilton, retired from his position and Mr. Peterswald was appointed

Commissioner. Mr. Peterswald, having been Mr. Hamilton's right-hand man,

was thoroughly fitted for the appointment. He held it for many years,

during which time the efficiency of the police force of South Australia

was well maintained. As Commissioner I personally received from him

during the time I was in the force every consideration. We had become

personal friends as far as it was consistent with our respective

positions, and, as soon as I received my first appointment as an officer

in the South Australian Military Forces, he was one of the very first to

welcome me to his house.

It was just before Christmas, 1881, that General Downes, the Commandant,

sent for me to see him at his office. I walked across the barrack square

to the Military Offices, and in a few minutes was shown into his room. He

informed me that he had been unable to arrange with the Government to

raise the nucleus of the Permanent Artillery Force which was required to

take charge of the lately constructed Fort Glanville, and that, as a

matter of fact, the contractors had asked for an extension of the time

for its final handing over to the Government. He had, however, pointed

out the necessity for a duly qualified Staff Instructor to be appointed

to the Volunteer Force. Several new units had been formed throughout the

colony. The localities in which the units had been raised were far

distant from the headquarters at Adelaide, and, unless the services of

some such Staff Instructor were made available, it could not be expected

that they could be held together. The Government had considered his

recommendation and had approved of it. He had, therefore, recommended me

for the position, pending the raising of the artillery unit, and he had

that morning been notified that his recommendation had met with their

approval.

"I have much pleasure," he said, "in telling you this. I have been

watching your work, while you have been in the police, and instructing

them, with keen interest, and, I am satisfied that you are quite capable

of carrying out the duties attached to your new appointment. I have seen

Mr. Peterswald, your Commissioner, and he is quite prepared to grant you

your discharge from the police. Please arrange to see him, and tell him

that I sent you, because I would like you to start your new duties from

the first of the year."

I have wondered, ever since that fateful interview with the general,

whether there is such a thing as second sight, or--to put it another way,

whether a person is permitted at times to have a glimpse into the future.

While the general was talking to me, and as soon as he told me that his

recommendation had been approved of, and that the appointment was

actually made, I was looking at him sitting in his chair at his office

desk, and I thought that I saw myself sitting in that very chair,

actually in his place, as Commandant of South Australia. The vision was a

passing one, but I well remember being seized with a determination to do

all I could to make that vision come true. As will be seen later on, it

did come true, and in much shorter time than I or anybody else could have

possibly expected.

I at once, in accordance with the general's wishes, called on Mr.

Peterswald. He was delighted at the good news. He, of course, knew about

it from the general. He told me I could have leave of absence up to

January 1, the date on which I was to take up my work at the Military

Staff Office. My next business was to cable home to my father to inform

him of my appointment. I knew what a pleasure it would be, most

particularly to my mother, to hear the news. From the time that I had

left home my only letters had been to my mother, and the only letters I

had received had been from her. She always kept me fully informed of all

the different doings of our large Gordon family.

Yet it is wonderful to think what a difference it makes to one's ideas

when you decide to place some 16,000 miles between all your own best

friends and your solitary self. Your solitary self goes forth alone. You

go into new worlds, you leave behind all the pals of your youth, all

those whose friendship in after life would be an anchor to you; all those

sweet girls whom you love, all those relations who always protested they

were so ready and keen to help you in your troubles, but who, when the

time of trouble comes, suddenly have so many troubles of their own that

they really can do nothing for you; but the one whom you feel most to

leave behind is your mother.

On the day following the news of my appointment I called at Government

House. My Woolwich mate, Johnny Jervois, was more than delighted at the

result of his advice to me to remain in Adelaide. He and I had some

exciting times later on when the Russian scare occurred in Australia in

1885; of which, more presently. His Excellency the Governor, Sir William,

gave me much encouragement by the kind way in which he received me, and I

need hardly say that I felt somewhat overcome by what appeared to me the

extraordinary kindness of my South Australian friends. With the exception

of my having been at Woolwich with young Jervois, all were strangers to

me on my arrival in Adelaide. My resignation having been accepted I had

ceased to be a policeman, and I felt at full liberty to accept any of the

many invitations which were kindly given to me for the forthcoming

festive season. It was a happy Christmas and New Year's time. My

Christmas Day was spent with the general and his charming wife and

family, at their home at Mitcham, near Adelaide.

On New Year's Eve and New Year's Day respectively I was the guest of the

Governor and the new Commissioner, Mr. Peterswald. I also obtained

permission from the Commissioner to invite my late police comrades to a

social evening at their barracks. That evening is one of the happiest

recollections of my life. During the months I had been with them I had

had no occasion, either as their instructor or while in charge of the

barracks, to find any fault with their work. We had been brought closely

together, and, if at times a few hard words had to be spoken as regards

their duties, they fully recognized that they were merited, and they bore

no personal ill-will. The South Australian Police were then, and have

been since, and are now, an efficient and fine body of men.

On January 1, 1882, I took up my duties at the Military Staff Office. My

mind was made up not to fail, but to give effect to the vision I had, at

the time of my interview with the general, which had pointed to the

Commandant's chair as my future lot.

How it was realized you will learn as you read on.

MILITARY APPOINTMENTS AND PROMOTIONS OF

BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOSEPH MARIA GORDON,

C.B.

1874--Joined Military Academy, Woolwich.

1876--Lieutenant, Royal Artillery.

1881--Police Instructor, South Australia.

1882--Staff Instructor, Military Forces, South Australia.

" --Lieutenant Commanding South Australian Permanent Artillery.

1883--Captain.

1885--Major.

1892--Lieutenant-Colonel on the Staff.

" --Acting Commandant.

1893--Colonel on the Staff.

" --Commandant, South Australian Military Forces.

1896--Re-appointed Commandant, under new Defence Act.

1898--Inspector, Warlike Stores, and Military Adviser for Australian

Colonies, in England.

1899--Returned to South Australia, Commandant.

" --Special Service Officer, South African War.

1900--Colonel, Imperial Land Forces.

" --Chief Staff Officer to all Overseas Colonial Forces, on

the Staff of the Commander-in-Chief, Lord Roberts.

" --and commanded a Mounted Column, South Africa.

" --Brigadier-General, Adelaide.

1901--Companion of the Most Honourable Order of the Bath.

1902--Commandant of the State of Victoria.

1905--Commandant of the State of New South Wales.

1912--Chief of the General Staff, Commonwealth Military Forces,

and First Member of the Military Board of Control, Australia.

Retired, owing to age limit, 1st August, 1914.

Part II

[Illustration: Lord Hopetoun, Marquis of Linlithgow]

CHAPTER I

SOLDIERING IN SOUTH AUSTRALIA

On January 2, 1882, I attended the staff office and began my new duties.

The general asked me to draw up a short memorandum setting out how best

to utilize my time up to the end of the financial year--June 30. My

special work was the instruction of the Volunteer Companies and

detachments stationed in the country, as apart from the units maintained

within the metropolitan area of Adelaide. It is worth while for you to

study the map of South Australia. In order to carry out these duties very

large tracts of country had to be covered by rail and road.

The amount of money placed on the estimates to cover travelling expenses

was by no means large, so it was very necessary to work out an itinerary

for the half-year, which, while enabling the units to get as much

instruction as possible, would not entail any expenditure beyond that

placed at my disposal. In addition to this, I was in charge of the office

work in connexion with the whole of the Volunteer branch of the military

forces at that time serving in South Australia. With the assistance of a

smart clerk placed at my disposal by the general I was well able to

fulfil these duties to his satisfaction. By the end of the week the

itinerary submitted by me received approval and a fair start was made.

The Colony of South Australia was founded upon lines that differed from

those on which the rest of the Australian Colonies started their

existence. The Chartered Company of South Australia was entrusted by the

British Government with the development of an immense tract of country

stretching right up through the centre of Australia from the south to the

north coast. The Northern Territory came under its administration. This

tract of country approached in size nearly to one-third of the whole of

Australia. South Australia has been called the "Cinderella" of the

Australian Colonies, not only because she was the youngest, but also

because of the character of her constitution. The original settlers had

landed on virgin soil, untainted by previous settlements of convict

prisoners. South Australia had not begun as a Crown Colony. The Chartered

Company had been granted self government from the day that the ships

conveying the original settlers cast their anchors off the shores of

Glenelg, and they held their first official meeting under the spreading

branches of the gum tree whose bent old trunk still marks that historic

spot. It was on December 28, 1836, that the landing took place. Every

year since that date the anniversary of that auspicious day has been set

aside for a national holiday. The now exceedingly prosperous seaside

resort of Glenelg hums each December 28 with joyous holiday makers. A

banquet, presided over by the mayor, and attended by the Governor, the

Premier, members of the Government and Parliament, is held to commemorate

the birthday of the Colony and do honour to the few surviving veteran

colonists who took part in the ceremony of the proclamation under the

shade of the historic gum tree in 1836.

I have just looked up last year's Press account of this ceremony, and I

find the following names mentioned, there are only two dating from

1836--Miss Marianne Fisher and Mrs. M. A. Boneham, who were on that date

still alive.

The capital of South Australia is Adelaide. I have travelled over many

parts of the world, and venture to say I have seen every important city

and town in Australia, New Zealand and South Africa. I have no hesitation

in proclaiming Adelaide the best as regards situation, laying out, and

climate. The genuine hospitality of its citizens is well known. Its site

was most carefully selected and surveyed, and the city itself laid out

and planned by a very able Engineer officer, Colonel Light. There was no

hurry, no fuss, when this was done. Colonel Light was given an absolute

free hand, besides ample time in which to complete his work. No better

monument exists to his memory than the city of Adelaide itself. Colonel

Light gave full consideration to the chief requirements of a city. He

appears to have selected from different parts of the world the best

characteristics of their cities and to have embodied them in his

conception and plan of Adelaide. Nothing which could be of benefit in

days to come seems to have been overlooked. The most important item,

perhaps--namely, facility for a perfect system of drainage--had been

evidently kept in view when the site was chosen. In after years, when it

was deemed advisable to instal what is known as the deep drainage system,

the best known up to date, it was found that it could be carried out

without the slightest difficulty, not only throughout the city proper,

but also in the numerous suburbs, which are steadily growing in

population outside the beautiful park lands surrounding it. Practically

Adelaide proper covers one square mile of ground, East Terrace being the

only broken side. Around this square mile lies a belt of park lands

averaging about a quarter of a mile wide. The suburbs commence beyond

these park lands, the oldest and chief one, North Adelaide, being itself

surrounded by a similar belt.

The park lands are indeed the lungs of the city. It is forbidden to erect

any private buildings thereon. No portions of them may be alienated

except for general purposes, such as public institutions, gardens,

exhibitions, racecourses, cricket and football ovals. The rights of the

citizens to their park lands are guarded by impenetrable legal

safeguards. Adelaide has been at times called the "city of the five

squares," also the "city of the twin towers," namely, those of the post

office and Town Hall. In the middle of the centre square marking the

heart of the city stands the statue of Queen Victoria. What city do you

know whose citizens can, after a day of heat, within a few minutes' walk

from their homes be enjoying the advantages of being in the country by

visiting the park lands? I know none other.

Adelaide nestles at the foot of a beautiful range of hills, the highest

point of which, "Mount Lofty," some 2,000 feet high, rises overlooking

the city. Numbers of spurs slope gracefully towards the plain, whose

shores the sea washes--the sea whence the cool breezes blow over the

city. What a glorious sight can be seen from Mount Lofty on a full

moonlight night! Stand on Mount Lofty, look up and revel in the sight of

an Australian summer night's sky, the dark but ethereally clear bluish

dome overhead, myriads of little stars, blinking at the steady brilliant

light of the greater constellations. Look right and left--on all sides

the spurs, covered with misty haze, lose themselves as they merge into

the plains. Look west towards the city and the sea. There beneath the

soft and silvery rays of the moon lies Adelaide and its suburbs, wrapt in

the peace and quiet of the night. Its thousands of street lights shine so

clear that they seem to lie at your feet. You see deep, dark places

amongst the lights; there are the park lands. Then raise your eyes and

look farther west; there is the sea. It shines as a silver mirror. The

soft winds from the west are blowing, and the wavelets, dancing in the

light of the moon, play with her shining rays as they leap on to break

gently on the sandy beach. Many times have I revelled in this sight while

staying with my friend, John Bakewell, whose beautiful home is close to

the top of the mount.

Colonel Light must have also kept in mind the climatic conditions. From

any part of the city a drive of less than a couple of hours will take one

up some fifteen to eighteen hundred feet above the sea. The railways, and

afterwards the advent of the motor-cars, have brought the hills down to

Adelaide and the plain, and the many and beautiful homes now adorning the

crests of the ridges and nestled there might almost be suburbs. See the

lovely foliage of the trees, gathered from all parts of the world. Look

at the gardens, luxuriant in blooms, where the flowers revel in rivalling

each other in beauty and colour and in profusion of blossoms. See the

ripening fruits festooning the trees in the orchards.

It is amongst such surroundings that the fortunate citizens of Adelaide

live, and there it was my privilege to spend--I say so without the

slightest reservation--the happiest years of my life. Would they could

come again.

You are not surprised now, are you, that the citizens of Adelaide fully

recognize the debt of gratitude they owe Colonel Light? His memory they

cherish. His name will ever be an honoured one. His monument, Adelaide

itself, a living one which will last until the day when the last trumpet

shall sound "the assembly." His recompense, the gratitude of her citizens

right up to that day.

The development of the defence system of the colony of South Australia

was as follows: In its early days the British Government maintained a

small garrison of regular soldiers, with their headquarters in Adelaide.

This garrison was at the disposal of the local Government; the Governor

was Commander-in-Chief. It was not anticipated then that troops from

Australia would be required to do battle for the Empire in European wars.

There was little trouble to fear from the aboriginal tribes. History

repeated itself in the case of South Australia. As it had happened in the

older colonies, the aborigines did not give cause for the slightest

anxiety, except on a few occasions when intrepid and daring explorers

went forth into the wild bush country miles and miles away from any

habitation. Barracks were built for the regular garrison. On the date I

started my duties the building was being utilized as an institution for

the poor and infirm. The military staff office and the mounted police

barracks were adjacent to it.

So long as the garrison of regulars remained at Adelaide there was no

particular inducement for the pioneers to burden themselves with the

additional responsibilities of becoming soldiers themselves. Yet have you

ever known or heard of any British settlement, no matter how small, which

did not elect a mayor and raise a volunteer force? When the time came for

the British Government to remove the regular garrison, the South

Australian volunteer force was established. This took place on the

conclusion of the Maori War, which was followed by the peaceful

settlement of the native question in the north island of New Zealand. The

British Government decided to withdraw all regular troops from New

Zealand and Australia then, feeling assured that the colonists, who had

already given the best and strongest evidence and proof of their capacity

to direct the affairs and develop the resources of the immense

territories entrusted into their hands, were more than capable of raising

and organizing military units on lines best adapted to their own economic

and political requirements. Thus it was that at the time the regulars

were withdrawn fairly efficient volunteer forces had come into

existence.

The South Australian Government retained the services of some of the

regular non-commissioned officers as instructors, and of some of the

officers for staff duties. At the time I joined the staff some of these

were still going healthy and strong. Well I remember Major Williams, our

staff quartermaster, Captain Powell, our cavalry instructor,

Sergeant-Majors Ryan and Connell, infantry instructors, two of the best.

They were with me then, they were under me for years; they never wavered

in their zeal, nor had I once, in our long association together, ever to

find fault with them or their work, not even in later days, when the

holders of the public purse set the pruning knives clicking and the

military vote suffered so severely as to necessitate much extra work on

the part of those who remained on the staff.

The growth of the colony steadily continued, never halting, though

occasionally bad seasons checked its progress. In the 'seventies South

Australia was fully established. Adelaide was becoming a rich and

populous city, the capital of a great territory. A stupendous pioneer

work, the overland telegraph right through the continent from Adelaide in

the south to Port Darwin in the north, had been completed, some 2,000

miles through unoccupied country. The Burra-Burra copper mines had given

forth their store of the copper. The Moonta and Wallaroo district was

still richer in that precious metal. Even now there appears to be no end

to the wealth of metal lying below the ground waiting for the pick of the

miner. Millions of acres of wild bush land had been turned into rolling

grass plains on which millions of sheep browsed in peace. In the settled

districts along the Northern Railway line to Port Augusta paddocks after

paddocks of smiling and rustling wheatfields waited for the harvesting

machines each autumn time.

The question of the advisability of establishing the Defence Force of the

colony on a sounder footing was taken up by the Government, which came to

the decision that it would be in the best interests of the forces to

appoint a regular Imperial officer, thoroughly efficient and up to date,

who should be entrusted with the reorganization, administration and

instruction of the Defence Department and the forces under its control.

This decision met with all-round approval. Politicians, Press, members of

the then existing forces and the public generally all concurred. A

request was sent to the Imperial Government, asking for the services on

loan for five years of an officer possessing the qualifications referred

to. The selection fell on Lieut.-Colonel (now Major-General) M. F.

Downes, R.A., C.M.G., who is still alive and well in Melbourne, and whose

constant friendship I have had the privilege of enjoying from the date I

first took up my duties under him. He lost no time on his arrival in

carrying out his instructions, and submitted a scheme for the

Government's approval. The general lines of his scheme were as follows:

The military forces were to consist of (a) an efficient administrative

and instructional staff; (b) a number of regular (permanent) artillery

units to man the forts and maintain them in a state of thorough

efficiency; (c) a force comprising all branches of the service, inclusive

of departmental and non-combatant corps on a partially paid system; (d)

the maintenance of a volunteer force to meet the requirements of outlying

districts; and (e) the encouragement of rifle clubs.

The only part of this scheme which requires some little explanation is

the partially paid force, the backbone of the scheme. General Downes

proposed that instead of the three months' continuous training carried

out by the Militia at home, the partially paid units should be paid by

the day, the maximum number of days being fixed by Act of Parliament.

Eight hours a day or over constituted a full day for purposes of pay; up

to four hours, half a day; and two hours or less, a quarter day. A

proviso existed that a few days of continuous training in camp should

take place each year. The original number of full days in the year first

approved of was, I think, twenty-four, and the rate of pay 5s. a day.

Whole holidays, of which there are a good many in the colonies, were

available for full day, half-holidays and Saturday afternoons for

half-day, and all evenings for quarter-day parades. By the time I joined

the general's staff his system had been in force for over three years,

was giving satisfaction to all concerned, and similar conditions of

service were later on adopted in every one of the Australian colonies.

The itinerary for the half-year ending June 30, 1882, which General

Downes had approved of, kept me continually on the move. The days in

between my journeys in the country were fully occupied with the

compilation of reports and other administrative duties. It was all a new

experience to me. I travelled hundreds of miles. The residents in the

outlying districts offered me every hospitality. Horses, of course, were

always available. Kangaroo and wallaby hunts, shooting and fishing

parties, were arranged to fill up the time in spare days. The wild turkey

is indeed a wary bird; he wants a lot of stalking, especially in the open

salt bush plains. An ox or cow was often made use of to approach this

knowing bird. It was considered an excellent day's sport if we bagged a

brace or two.

Six months sped by. Then came the day when the general informed me that

the Government had approved of the raising of the Regular (Permanent)

Artillery unit. Fort Glanville had been completed, the guns mounted, and

the contractors had handed over the fort to the Government. I remember

the general's kind words to me so well. He told me he was pleased with my

work, that he had reported upon my success as staff instructor to the

volunteer force, that he had recommended me for the position of

Lieutenant Commanding the Permanent Artillery unit, and that the

Government had approved.

So at last I had got appointed to my own branch of the service--once

again I was a gunner. I took up my residence at the fort, where there was

barrack accommodation for about thirty men and quarters for one officer.

Within three weeks I had got together a first-class lot of young men, and

the general came down to inspect us. An efficient gunner is not made in a

day, no, nor even in a year, so that for months I had little time for

play. In addition a most interesting and difficult piece of work came my

way. The fixed defences, recommended by Sir William Jervois and General

Scratchley, consisted of three forts, one not far from the mouth of the

Port River, a second one approximately half-way between the mouth of the

river and Glenelg, and the third one near Glenelg. At that time there

were not sufficient funds to undertake the completion of the whole

scheme. The centre one, Fort Glanville, was considered the most

important, and had therefore been constructed first. The plans for the

other forts had been prepared at the same time as those for Fort

Glanville.

The coast from Glenelg to the mouth of the Port River is very low, a

continuous ridge of sandy dunes fringing a beautiful sea beach from which

the waters recede far at low tide. The mail boats anchored in the open

roadstead; passengers landed at the Semaphore jetty, cargo being placed

in barges and towed up the river to Port Adelaide. It was a most

unsatisfactory arrangement, and many have been the times that I got wet

through when meeting the steamers. In particularly rough weather baskets

had to be used to get on or off the ship. When it was too rough and

dangerous passengers had to be taken on to the next port of call. For

years the question of providing proper harbour accommodation had been

before successive Governments, but the vested interests at Port Adelaide

and other political reasons had successfully blocked the project. About

the beginning of 1882, however, a company was formed, which acquired a

large frontage to the sea from the boundaries of the Semaphore northwards

to the mouth of the Port River. This company obtained the right to

construct a harbour. It was called the Largs Bay Company. It built a

first-class up-to-date hotel on the foreshore, constructed a fine jetty,

and a railway leading into Port Adelaide, with the view of diverting the

landing of the passengers from the old Semaphore Government jetty to

Largs Bay. All this will probably be of little interest to you, except

that it supplies a reason for the influences that were brought to bear on

the Government to construct No. 2 Fort. If the outer harbour was to be

constructed, its protection was necessary. Hence I was instructed by the

general to revise the original plans of the Fort and adapt them to the

new fortress guns, which had superseded those existing at the time of the

construction of Fort Glanville. To plan forts, to obtain the widest scope

for the fire power of their guns, is fascinating work to a gunner. I

revelled in it, and in a few weeks I was ready with the revised plans.

The plans were approved of, and the contract was let for its

construction. Largs Bay Hotel then became my headquarters.

The time came when the building of the Largs Fort was advanced enough to

push on with the mounting of the heavy guns, which on arrival had been

stored at Port Adelaide, some three miles away. The hauling of the guns

and carriages and their assembling and mounting was excellent instruction

to my young gunners. In revising the plans of the Fort I had made

provision for barrack accommodation for a larger body of men.

Fort Glanville has now for some time past been dismantled. The proposed

fort near Glenelg was never built, though two 9.2 inch B.L. guns, which

were imported at great cost as the result of the Russian scare, are still

lying buried in the sand hills on the proposed site.

CHAPTER II

POLO, HUNTING AND STEEPLECHASING

While busy with my professional duties I found time to amuse myself as

well. My friends at the club had put my name up as a member. I was soon

elected. You will doubtless smile when I tell you what happened the first

time I entered the club as a full member. It had been a very hot day. A

visiting team of polo players from the western district of Victoria had

battled hard in the afternoon against the Adelaide team. The good game of

polo in those days was in its infancy in Australia. A few enthusiasts in

Adelaide and some in the wonderfully rich western district of Victoria,

the De Littles, Manifolds, Blacks and others who owned thousands of acres

of as good country as there is in Australia, kept the game going. An

inter-colonial match was arranged. Lance Stirling, now Sir Lancelot, and

President of the Upper House, Arthur Malcolm, a thorough sportsman with a

keen love for practical jokes, and the two brothers Edmund and Charlie

Bowman, were playing for Adelaide. The old veteran, Dave Palmer, St.

Quintin, Para Hood and one of the Manifolds represented the western

district of Victoria.

It was the custom to celebrate all such occasions as polo matches, big

race days, Hunt Club meetings, by holding dinner parties at the club,

often attended by fifty or sixty of the younger members, with a

sprinkling of the older sports, who thoroughly enjoyed the vivacity and

exuberance of the younger men. These were dinners to be remembered, full

of joyous spirits, where many amusing incidents used to occur. As the

hours of the evening grew late and the early morning approached the fun

was at its height. I happened to choose this very particular night for my

first visit to the club after my election as a full member. I knew what

was going on, and, though I thought it better to avoid going there that

night, an irresistible feeling came over me and I succumbed to it. So, at

about eleven o'clock I made my appearance. It had been a long time, in

fact, not since I had left Melbourne, that I had had a real jolly night.

I had held the bit particularly tight between my teeth during my time in

the police, and I did feel inclined for a jollification. I got it all

right. I was greeted all round with the heartiest welcome.

Congratulations on my appointment were showered on me, and in a few

minutes I was as recklessly enjoying the fun as they were. While the

large dining-room was being prepared for an obstacle race cock-fighting

held sway. An amateur orchestra with improvised instruments,

coal-scuttles, pots and pans, hair-combs and other similar objects was

playing in the back court of the club, in the centre of which there was a

fountain. Some enterprising member had offered a prize to anyone who

hopped twice round the narrow parapet, surrounding its basin, without

falling in, while keeping time to the music. It certainly was difficult

to follow the strains of that band. From a very slow and dignified

movement the music suddenly broke into the quickest time that ever any

tune was played. The result was fatal to the hopper. A bath in the

fountain followed. The prize was not won that night. And so the frolic

ran on till the early hours of the morning.

I felt somewhat sorry for myself when I turned up next day at the office.

I didn't feel much inclined for work, and I waited patiently for noon to

strike to make my way to the club and a large whisky and soda. Lunch-time

approached. I began to notice that several of the older members were

looking serious and were not so affable as usual. The secretary asked me

to step into his office. I did so. He, too, was looking serious. He told

me that it had been reported to him that I had on my very first visit, as

a member of the club upset the whole place, that my good old friend Mr

Hamilton, who lived at the club, had complained bitterly of the noise and

disturbance, and was going to ask the committee to cancel my election and

practically have me turned out. He himself had been forced to call a

special meeting of the committee to deal with the matter. I sat, quiet

and sad, by the side of the old fountain. Every now and again one of the

chief offenders of the night before would, as he passed me, sympathize

with me in my trouble. My misery did not last long. Two or three members

of the committee entered the secretary's office. Presently the secretary

beckoned me to his office. Round a table sat three members of the

committee. In the centre of the small table was a magnum of champagne and

a small bucket of ice. In silence the glasses were filled up. The oldest

member of the committee, still as serious as a judge, handed me one. They

each helped themselves. Then he spoke: "We have asked you to come here

this morning"--and then a smile came over their faces--"to welcome you to

the club and to say how happy we are that you have got your appointment."

Thus ended my anxiety, and a few minutes later on the magnum of

champagne. I had certainly had my leg pulled.

In view of my duties in connexion with the construction of the new fort I

moved to the Largs Bay Hotel. Standing by itself mid-way between the two

forts at the shore end of the jetty, the hotel had been completed and

opened with much rejoicing. Mr. Hixon was its first manager. No expense

had been spared by the company in making it not only comfortable, but

luxurious. The winter months were just beginning; there was no attraction

to the seaside, and there were but few residents. The monotony of living

there was varied two days each week by the arrival of the inward and

outward bound mail steamers, that was all. But I was too busy to worry

about pleasure; the training of my men at Fort Glanville and the

supervision of the construction of Fort Largs kept me busy five days of

the week. Saturday and Sunday I devoted to sport and pleasure. The polo

season ended with the autumn; hunting began with early winter.

Had anyone told me in the days when I used to be carried into the boats

on the good old ship _Waipa_ that within a couple of years I would once

again be enjoying playing polo, following the hounds and steeplechasing,

I would not have believed them. Yet so it was. The hunting season coming

on, I at once set to work to get a couple of good mounts. Good Mother

Luck was, as usual, again on my side. A friend of mine, Leonard Browne,

who owned Buckland Park Station, about twenty-five miles from Adelaide,

offered me one of his station horses. We named him Buckland. He was the

soundest and best jumper I ever threw my legs across. He was even better

than "Kate Dwyer." For two seasons he never gave me a fall. I have, for a

wager, put up a sheet of corrugated iron six feet long by two and a half

feet wide, leaning it slanting against a rest, in the middle of a

paddock, and, jumping on Buckland's back, I would ride him straight at

it. He never bothered to go to the right or left of it. The old horse

would take it in his stride and sail over it without rapping it. Wire

fences were child's play to him; he got over them just as easily as he

negotiated post and rails.

Satan, a thoroughbred I bought after a selling race at Morphetville, was

my second string. He had broken down in his near foreleg during the race.

He was only three years old, jet black, sixteen hands one, and as

handsome as paint. I had named him Satan. I had by this time been asked

by the general on several occasions to accompany him as his staff officer

at such times as he was making his inspections, and I thought it would be

well for me to have a decent charger. The general liked a good horse.

Satan was just the horse. I had him for some twelve years. I schooled him

to jump, and he took to it very kindly. Many are the miles of road

travelling he saved me when later on we were busy with field manoeuvres,

by his jumping capacities. Satan was not a "Buckland," but he seldom

failed me. So it came to pass that I was able to enjoy many a good day

with the hounds on Saturday afternoons; then a good dinner, the theatre,

and afterwards a little fun and light-hearted supper and frolic at the

club till the early hours of Sunday morning.

What a crowd of real good sportsmen lived in Adelaide in those days!

Perhaps the oldest and most respected of the professional sports was Mr.

Filgate. Then there was Seth Ferry, who had ridden many a hard race in

his life; Saville, as clever with his pencil as he was as a

trainer--brother-in-law, I think, of Leslie Macdonald, who afterwards

managed Wilson's stud at St. Albans, Victoria, and on Wilson's death

became an owner himself, and a successful one, too. Revenue won the

Melbourne Cup for him, and several other good horses have in late years

carried his colours to the front in first-class races. Leslie Macdonald

is still a very well-preserved man, a first-class sport, and a good

companion. Tom Power was another good trainer, and Johnny Hill, who

trained Auraria, the Melbourne Cup winner. The pride of place amongst

breeders was then taken by Sir Thomas Elder. The stud farm at

Morphetville left nothing to be desired. The renowned chestnut, Gang

Forward, and a big-boned bay horse named Neckesgat were the lords of the

harem. Some twenty brood mares, descendants of the best strains of

thoroughbred stock, had been brought together, and many a good horse

which played about as a foal at Morphetville's beautiful paddocks

afterwards won classical races.

Sir Thomas Elder was at this time fairly on the wrong side of fifty. He

was a bachelor. He and his brother-in-law, Mr. Barr Smith, were the heads

of that well-known firm, Elder, Smith and Co., which was interested in

many important concerns, and, _inter alia_, represented the P. & O. S. N.

Co., mail contractors to Australia. This company's ships called in at

Adelaide once a week, the incoming and outgoing mail in turn. Sir Thomas

usually invited the captain to his house during the steamer's stay in the

roadstead.

They used to tell of him that though he took the greatest pleasure in the

Morphetville stud, he knew but little about horses. Sir Thomas delighted

in taking his guests through the paddocks, his manager close beside him.

"Now there," Sir Thomas would say, "isn't that a fine horse? Now, Mr.

Ellworthy, just tell us all about him." It was generally a her. But when

he came to White Arab stallion Mr. Ellworthy's services were not

required. Sir Thomas's partner, Mr. Robert Barr Smith, might well be

named the Grand Old Man of South Australia. He died at a very ripe old

age--a charming personality, a shrewd man of business, a most generous

citizen whose gifts were munificent, and equalled only by those of his

brother-in-law, Sir Thomas. Mr. Barr Smith's principal home, Torrens

Park, some six miles from Adelaide, situated at the foot of the hills,

was always open house to his friends. I can never forget the many happy

days I spent there, and who, of the many who were privileged to be their

friends, can ever forget the charming personality, the sweet ways, and

the generous nature of Mrs. Barr Smith?

My pen runs away with me when I think of all my kind friends in those

happy days. But let me not forget one family, the Bakers of Morialta. The

Hon. John Baker was one of the first citizens of Adelaide to appreciate

the value of the Mount Lofty ranges as a home during the summer months.

He took up some hundreds of acres in what was at that time bush country

up the heights to the north of Mount Lofty. I do not know whether

Norton's Summit, in the neighbourhood of which he purchased the land, was

so named when he built his comfortable home at Morialta. The entrance

gates into that beautiful domain are just past the village which bears

the name Norton's Summit. The Hon. John Baker was a politician, but he

was also a sportsman and a horse breeder. I think I am right in stating

that he bred that good horse Don Juan, which started the "King" of

Australian bookmakers, Joe Thompson, in his triumphant career. Not to

know Joe Thompson in those days in Australia meant not to know Australia.

He was the leviathan of the turf, or at least, he became so, and a keen

sportsman he was, too. Of all sports horse racing has always the pride of

place in Australia, though others flourish there.

To Mrs. John Baker, Mr. Baker's widow, I owe a deep debt of gratitude.

From the time I first arrived in Adelaide she made me welcome at

Morialta. Her eldest son, who later on became Sir Richard Baker,

President of the Legislative Council of South Australia, was a good sport

and a true friend of mine up to the time of his death.

I believe that it was his father who established the first pack of hounds

in South Australia. The kennels were at Morialta. At the time I am

writing of, Allen Baker, a younger brother of Sir Richard, was Master. I

was his best man on his marriage day. I remember it so well, though it

was so long ago. He was quite nervous about the whole thing, as he called

it, the evening before. I tried to cheer him up. He told me that he

particularly wished the clergyman to cut the service as short as

possible, and I was on no account to let him "make a speech." I duly

warned the clergyman in the morning, and he took the hint. I fortified

Allen with a small bottle of champagne just before the ceremony, which

took place at the church at Mitcham. He just got through it, and, as soon

as he got out of the church, he jumped up into the four-wheeled dogcart

that was waiting for him and, taking hold of the reins, with his pretty

bride beside him, drove away as happy as a bird. His nervousness had

disappeared.

Perhaps the most enjoyable event of the year in Adelaide was the occasion

when the Hunt Club Races took place. The meeting was held at the close of

the season, and a right merry meeting it was too. It was a huge picnic,

winding up with dinner and theatre parties, dances, and good old suppers.

I had nothing good enough to win any race. Buckland was a sure jumper,

but not fast enough. Satan's foreleg would not stand training. However,

one never knows one's luck in steeplechasing, so I sent Buckland to

Leslie Macdonald to be trained, and promised myself a real ding-dong

jumping day over the big sticks at Morphetville--and I had it, too. The

two principal races were the Drag Cup and the Hunt Club Cup--the former

about two miles and three-quarters, the latter about four miles. A maiden

steeple, a hurdle race and a hunters' flat race filling up the programme.

The best horse at the meeting that year was named Albatross, a jet black,

curiously enough, and the property of a good sport, Mick Morris, a

Government stock inspector. Albatross had been heavily backed to win the

double, the Drag and Hunt Club Cups. I think it was Bob Turner who rode

him in the Hunt Club Cup. He had bad luck opposite the grand stand, for

he struck the wall hard the second time round and unseated Bob. The race

was over as far as Albatross was concerned, and so were the double wagers

as far as Mick Morris and his friends were concerned. But Mick and his

pals meant to get their money again by backing Albatross straight out for

the Drag Cup. Bob Turner had been badly shaken by his fall, and was

unable to ride again. Morris asked me to ride him. I had already ridden

old Buckland in the Maiden Steeple and Hunt Club Cups some six miles,

without being near winning, so I thought I would oblige Morris.

Unfortunately, Albatross being top-weight had a heavy impost to carry,

some 13 st. 4 lb. I rode only about 11 st. 6 lb. in those days, so I had

to put up some two stones dead weight. The saddle was a heavy,

old-fashioned hunting one, and taking it for granted all was well I

jumped on Albatross's back in the saddling paddock and jogged quietly

down to the starting point. There were some eight starters. Down went the

flag, away we went, and I took Albatross to the front. He was a fine

jumper, but he had one fault; he was inclined to run down his fences, and

squirm a little when jumping. We went once round the course. We were

coming to the wall for the second time just in front of the grand stand

and Albatross was moving like a bird. I let him just "gang his ain gait";

nothing behind me could force the pace. He led the field easily, and I

felt more than confident that the race was mine. But you never can tell.

He came to the wall. He had to shorten his stride in taking it, which

made him squirm more than usual. I felt something go; it was my left

stirrup leather. The clip holding it to the saddle had been left open,

and the wrench of my left leg as Albatross jumped had pulled the leather

out. I managed to keep the stirrup iron hanging on to my foot with the

end of the leather trailing on the ground as we galloped on. I had hopes

I might recover the leather, and by holding on to it with my left hand

make some use of it. It was not to be. In my efforts to pick up the

leather I had to slow Albatross down. This enabled the other horses to

close up to me. There was only one thing to do--let the stirrup go and

set Albatross sailing again. This I did. At the next fence--a stiff log

one--I was nearly jerked clean off. I had forgotten I was riding with

only one stirrup, and, as Albatross swerved in jumping, I all but fell

off on the near side. It struck me that if I did not get rid of the other

stirrup I would probably be thrown soon, so I got rid of it. I now found

myself with about a mile and a half to go, some ten real stiff fences to

negotiate, and riding without stirrups. I quite well remember my memory

harking back for a moment to the old days of the riding school at

Woolwich when old Dan, our riding master, used to call out, "Cross

stirrups," and "Take care" and "'Old on." Well, it was a case of "'olding

on" on Albatross for the rest of that journey. It was soon over.

Albatross sailed along. I couldn't hold him, but kept in on the course.

Young Farr on Peter came after me. We raced together at the last fence.

Over we went; both landed safely, but I was beat. Farr, sitting

comfortably on Peter, led me past the post. The only consolation I had

was that I had not been responsible for saddling Albatross. My good old

friend Michael Morris, though he had lost his money, thought I had put up

a real good fight, and gave me a present of a handsome hunting-crop to

remind me of my ride on that good horse Albatross. We had a glorious

winding up to that day. The Hunt dinner at the club, a large theatre

party, and a dance. Indeed, I was glad when I got to bed at the end of it

all.

On the close of the hunting season followed the polo season. It was

arduous work to play polo in the heat of the summer, but it could not be

helped. The first polo ground was in the park lands inside the Victoria

race-course. Now the Polo Club owns a clubhouse and a tip-top ground not

far from the city. Ponies were rather difficult to get in those days, and

when you did get them there was very little opportunity to train them. It

was with difficulty we managed to get one practice game a week with full

sides. Several of the members of the Polo Club lived in the country, and

it was difficult for them to spare the time to come into town for a game;

besides, it was a fairly expensive game. Still, we battled away against

all difficulties, and the game of polo was kept going in South Australia

while the richer and older colonies of New South Wales and Victoria

practically dropped it.

Of recent years polo has become a favourite pastime throughout Australia,

especially in many country districts, and after the War will doubtless

become one of its national games. At the close of the hunting season I

had turned out Buckland and Satan for a long spell, and picked up four or

five ponies. I got some stables put up at Fort Glanville. The splendid

beach at low tide afforded an excellent practice ground. The season moved

along all well; we had only one severe accident. The game in those days

began by placing the ball on the ground half-way between the goals. A

player from each side was selected to gallop at a given signal from the

goal posts to the ball. On the particular afternoon of the accident the

two players selected were Tom Barr Smith and George Hawker. By some

accident the two rode straight at each other; the ponies met head to

head. There was quite a loud report. It was the cracking of the skull of

one of the ponies. The pony had to be shot, but no particular harm was

done to the riders. As a result of this accident it was decided to alter

the rules of the game. This was done, and there was no more wild

galloping to start the game. After trying several ponies, I was

successful in getting hold of two real good ones. One was a light,

cream-coloured mare, descended from a Welsh Taffy imported sire. I called

her "Creamie." She was a flyer. The other, a well-bred little bay, which

I named "Kitty," I bought from the Governor's A.D.C., Captain Williams.

The polo season closed with a race meeting, just as the hunting season

did. The chief event was the Polo Club Cup. I felt fairly confident that

I had that year's cup in my pocket. For some six weeks before the races I

had sent Creamie and Kitty to Mr. Ellworthy at Morphetville, who had

kindly undertaken to supervise their training. As the result of trials

Creamie proved much the faster. Not only that, but she started breaking

watch-records. The day of the races came. I had promised Allen Baker, the

Master of the Hounds, to have the mount on Creamie. A real good

sportsman, Stephen Ralli, was to ride Kitty. I was too heavy myself to

tackle the weights. Creamie was made favourite at even money. Kitty

started at 20 to 1. Off they went to the post. I think Lance Stirling was

starter. There were about eighteen starters. Creamie was next but two to

the rails. I had backed her for quite a lot of money, and had told all my

friends that I could not see what other pony could beat her. They all put

their money on. I had not a sixpence on Kitty. Well, down went the flag.

I was in the grand stand with my glasses fixed on the starting point. The

first thing I saw was one of the riders turning a somersault in the air.

It was Allen Baker. I of course at once lost all interest in the race. I

put down my glasses. Down the course came Creamie leading the field

riderless. Then I heard the shouting: "Kitty! Kitty wins!" and before I

realized it, she had won. Yes, Stephen Ralli had won the cup on Kitty for

me. I had lost L300.

My recollections of the introduction of cash betting, as opposed to the

system of booking bets "on the nod" in the betting ring on Australian

race-courses, are as follows: Not long after my first appointment in

Adelaide the annual big racing meeting was held by the Adelaide Racing

Club at their course in the park lands, east of the city. Large numbers

of the best-known bookmakers from the other colonies were as usual in

attendance. Their voices were hardly what could be called musical. As a

rule each one gave his own voice some peculiar note, so that their

would-be clients could spot their whereabouts in the ring. The result of

this chorus was unique as a musical phenomenon.

I think it was the Cup Day. It was fine overhead and hot, yet a charming

day. The race for the Cup was next, and the ring was settling down to

business. Suddenly, amidst the general uproar, a fine-sounding voice,

true and melodious, was heard intoning what at first sounded to most

people a church hymn. But it was not a church hymn. It was a new method

of shouting out the odds, attracting attention to an exceedingly

well-got-up gentleman in a grey frock suit, patent leather boots, white

spats, grey gloves, tall white hat, and a flower in his buttonhole. A new

bookmaker had made his appearance. He informed the crowds in song that he

betted "only for cash," not "on the nod"--"I pay on the winner,

immediately after the race." It only wanted an organ to accompany him. It

was quite amusing to watch the remainder of his brethren in the ring. At

first they looked about for the songster; then they laughed; and then set

to work fairly to howl him down. It was no use; he managed somehow to

make his dulcet notes heard. The new arrival before the end of the day

was well known. His experiment had succeeded; it had been a first-class

advertisement, and he gathered in many clients.

He left Adelaide for the sister States. Some time afterwards an amusing

story went the round of sporting circles. Whether true or not I know not.

Here it is. The committee of one of the most important bookmakers' clubs

in Australia had occasion to adjudicate on a charge laid against him for

conduct which it was stated rendered him an undesirable member of the

club, to the honorary membership of which he had been admitted. The

committee, after inquiry, decided to request him to see them, inform him

of the charge that had been made against him, ask him if he wished to

refute it; if not, it was their intention to cancel his membership. His

answer was reported to be as follows: "The charges made against me

practically accuse me of behaving like a blackguard. Well, I can be a

blackguard--probably a bigger one than any of you are or can be, but

however that may be, there is one thing I can be, if I like, but which

none of you can ever be, and that is a gentleman. Good morning; I am

returning to England to-morrow."

CHAPTER III

THE RUSSIAN SCARE AND ITS RESULTS

Sir Frederick Sargood had been appointed Minister of Defence in Victoria.

He had evidently been impressed with the success that had attended the

experiment made by the South Australian Government when they had decided

to ask the Imperial Government to lend them the services of a regular

officer to command their local troops. He decided upon a similar course

of action, but he went a good deal further than the South Australian

Government had done. He was determined to do the thing well, and he did

it. He asked the Imperial Government for the loan of officers to fill the

following positions: (a) Commandant; (b) Adjutant-General; (c) D.A.G. for

Cavalry and Infantry; (d) D.A.G. for Artillery; (e) O.C. Engineers; (f)

Chief Instructors for Cavalry, Infantry, Artillery and Engineers.

Amongst the senior officers selected by the War Office for these posts

were the following: Colonel Disney, R.A., Lieutenant-Colonel Brownrigg,

Lieutenant-Colonel Walker, R.A., Major Fellowes and Captain Ernest

Rhodes, R.E., brother of Cecil Rhodes.

It was rumoured at the time that Sir Frederick had come to the conclusion

that he had undertaken rather a serious contract in importing such a lot

of officers. How was he to protect himself against such an array of

military talent? He was a most enthusiastic volunteer. He was besides a

very able business man. All Australians know the firm of which he was one

of the partners, Butler, Sargood and Co. His military knowledge, however,

was naturally very limited, and no doubt he felt it would be difficult

for him to battle against the more than heavy demands which the new

military directorate would probably make upon the Government. It

happened, however, that General Downes' period of service with the South

Australian Government was approaching its end, and Sir Frederick hit upon

the happy idea of securing him for the position of Secretary to his

Department. The general's ripe experience in the conduct of the South

Australian forces and the success that had attended his efforts in that

respect rendered him well qualified to give good advice to the Minister

in charge of the Department. General Downes accepted the appointment.

At the time of the Imperial officers' arrival in Melbourne a Charity ball

was being held. The wives of the new officers bought tickets, not with

the intention of going themselves, as they thought it was just an

ordinary charity affair which would not be patronized by the best people.

So, instead of going, they gave their tickets to their servants and sent

them. If they had taken the trouble to ask about the ball they would have

been told that these charity balls were attended by the nicest of the

nice--and they would, of course, have been there themselves. The lady

correspondents of the society journals were naturally awaiting their

arrival as excellent subjects for their pens, and were not slow in

discovering the absence of the good ladies as well as the presence of

their servants. Naturally they felt indignant. The fact was soon

whispered among the guests, and some were unkind enough to look upon the

incident almost in the light of a personal insult. Society was quite

disturbed, and hints of boycotting the offenders were spread about.

However, full explanations were quickly made, and the incident was

forgotten.

Amongst the recommendations made by Sir William Jervois, who had left

South Australia early in 1882, and had been succeeded by Sir William

Robertson, brother of Sir Hercules Robinson, was the acquisition of an

up-to-date gunboat as a beginning of a limited but efficient naval unit

for the defence of South Australia. At this time the Colonies of Victoria

and Queensland had started naval units of their own. Victoria had quite,

for those days, an imposing little fleet, the flagship of which was the

old _Cerberus_. The Colony of New South Wales had not deemed it necessary

to start a fleet on its own. Sydney was the base and headquarters of the

Imperial warships then attached to the Australian station. Consequently

they felt more than fully protected from the point of view of naval

defence. The South Australian Government gave effect to Sir William

Jervois's recommendation, and a gunboat, christened the _Protector_,

built by the firm of Sir William Armstrong, Newcastle-on-Tyne, was

selected, and left England on its outward-bound voyage. The citizens of

Adelaide were much interested in its arrival. This vessel, which was

still in commission two years ago, served for many years as a training

ship for the members of the Naval Reserve. On the occasion of the taking

over of the Defence Forces of the several colonies by the Commonwealth

Government, the captain of the _Protector_ became the senior naval

officer of the Naval Defence Forces. Captain William Cresswell was

afterwards appointed First Member of the Naval Board of Control in the

Commonwealth, promoted to admiral, and knighted. Curiously enough, he

spoke Spanish. He had been born in Gibraltar, not far from Jerez. His

sister was for many years head of the Post Office, in fact,

Postmistress-General at the Rock.

Sir William Jervois's son, my Woolwich mate, had taken on the duties of

Adjutant-General on the departure of his father. He was completing the

term of his engagement at the time when General Downes left for

Melbourne. Pending the arrival of Lieut.-Colonel J. F. Owen, R.A., he was

acting Commandant, and I became, for the time being, acting

Adjutant-General.

It was then we had a surprise. One morning the look-out station people at

Glenelg sighted columns of heavy smoke, evidently issuing from large

craft making towards Glenelg from the entrance to the Gulf. The fact was

communicated to the shipping and customs authorities at Port Adelaide.

They replied that they had no notification of the intended arrival of any

steamers, and none were expected. The people at Glenelg became quite

interested, if not excited, and flocked to the jetty and the Esplanade.

The excitement spread to Adelaide, and many curious people took train for

the seaside suburb. After a time the hulls of three large vessels

gradually appeared above the horizon. Many were the telescopes directed

at them, and very considerable the surprise when it was seen that the

vessels in question were men-of-war, but not British. There was nothing

to be done but to await their arrival. In due time they arrived off

Glenelg and anchored close where the mail steamers usually lay when

calling there. They were flying the Russian flag. All was bustle and

excitement when they were seen lowering their boats.

In the meantime the customs authorities had reached Glenelg in their

steamboat from Port Adelaide, and were awaiting instructions from the

Government as to what action they were to take. They were instructed to

carry on as usual, in the same way as when any foreign men-of-war visited

the port. The Customs House officials, accompanied by the Port Health

Officer, proceeded to the flagship. They were met on board with all due

courtesy, and the admiral expressed his wish for permission to land and

pay his respects to the Governor and the Government of South Australia at

such time as it would be convenient to them to receive him. On the return

of the Customs House boat the Health Officer reported that all was well

with the ships, and that he had granted them pratique. The admiral's

message was as soon as possible conveyed to the Government. His request

was, of course, acceded to, and a representative from the Premier's

office sent on board to place himself in touch with the admiral. The

official visits duly took place during the afternoon. What reasons, if

any, were given by the admiral for his sudden appearance off the coast of

South Australia I never was told. As far as I know they were never made

public, if given. Where had they come from?

It soon became evident that the officers and crews were to be treated

with the ceremony and courtesy it was customary to offer to distinguished

visitors. The admiral had given it out that the visit would be a short

one. There was to be an official dinner at Government House, the usual

reception by the Premier and members of the Government, and official

calls; and the residents of Glenelg decided to hold a ball in their

honour. Great was the excitement, especially amongst the young ladies, at

the prospect of meeting such a large number of naval officers. Previous

to their departure the admiral and officers of the ship gave an official

dinner and an afternoon reception to the chief residents. Then up went

the anchors and away they steamed. Where they were going was not made

known to the public, as far as I know. This unusual event took place

early in 1885.

While the visit lasted the excitement attending it had kept the people's

minds fully occupied, but after the departure of the ships people began

to think what would happen if, instead of coming in a friendly capacity,

the men-of-war had arrived with hostile intentions. To put it very

shortly and to the point, it would have meant practically the surrender

of Adelaide. There were no fortifications at Glenelg. Though the guns on

board the ships had not sufficient range to shell the city itself, the

distance being too great, yet they could in a short time have played

havoc with Glenelg, and it may be doubted whether in those days the

Government and people would have preferred the destruction of Glenelg to

coming to some terms with the enemy. This gave rise to much thought.

Immediately afterwards what became popularly known as "the Russian Scare"

took place in Australia. Our Government instructed the acting Commandant,

Major Jervois, to mobilize our military forces and to take up their war

positions without delay. They further gave instructions to make a final

selection of the site for the construction of the Fort near Glenelg, the

immediate preparation of the plans, and the acquisition of the land

required. A cable was dispatched to our military adviser in London, then

General Harding-Stewart, to place at once on order the armament for the

fort, which it had been decided should consist of two 9.2 and two 6-inch

breech-loading guns, mounted on hydro-pneumatic gun-carriages, the latest

up-to-date ordnance approved of by the home government for coastal

defence purposes throughout the Empire.

The mobilization was duly carried out. A couple of days after the

concentration of the forces had been completed, and the night before the

arrival of our new Commandant, I met with a severe accident. An infantry

camp had been formed at Glenelg to protect the main road to Adelaide.

Major Jervois had arranged for an alarm to take place early the next

morning with a view of testing how far the commanding officers of the

several zones of the defence had grasped their respective duties. The

Governor had paid a visit to the infantry camp at Glenelg that afternoon,

and had remained to take a light evening meal at the officers' mess. It

was a stirring time. Jervois and myself were the only two staff officers

available. We had the assistance of three or four of the instructional

officers. Within three days the whole of the members of our forces were

assembled at the war stations as provided for in our Defence Scheme,

covering the probable enemy landing places from Glenelg along the coast

to the mouth of the Port River and the approaches to the city.

After satisfying myself that the officers entrusted with the defence of

the Glenelg zone understood their instructions for the alarm, I started

off riding down the coast towards Fort Glanville, intending to visit the

commanding officers in charge of the other sections, with the same object

in view. Our horses, my own and those of my orderly officer, had been put

up at the Old Pier Hotel at Glenelg. It was dark when we mounted, and,

knowing the townships well, I cut across several vacant allotments

instead of following the road. Suddenly I felt--as I was cantering across

one of these allotments--as if the devil himself had gripped my face. I

remembered no more till about a couple of hours afterwards my senses came

back to me. My face was quite a picture. Some person had put up a

clothes-line during the afternoon across the vacant allotment. The

clothes-line happened to be a piece of fencing wire. I had cantered right

into it and it caught me just above the upper lip and below my nose. That

I have, since that day, been blessed with a nose of my own is quite a

miracle. I can assure you that when I got hold of the tip of it I could

lift it quite easily from my face.

Some kind doctor attended to it at the Pier Hotel, and, with the aid of

many stitches and good old sticking-plaster, dressed the wound

temporarily. The rest of my face was swollen and I was sore all over from

bumping the hard ground, as I fell, when I was dragged backwards off my

horse by the wire. However, I was much too anxious to get on with my work

to cry "Halt." I couldn't ride, but I ordered a buggy from the hotel and

moved on. As I reached the commanding officers of the successive sections

along the coast I created somewhat of a sensation. I was not surprised. I

presented a sorry figure, at any rate as far as my face was concerned.

However, I satisfied myself that they had mastered their instructions,

and that they would carry them out to the best of their ability.

When nearing Fort Glanville I left the main road, which ran just inside

the sand-dunes and was in a very bad condition, for the beach. The beach

was good going. Arriving close to the fort I struck inland by a track

between the dunes. I felt happier; in a few minutes I would reach the

Fort. But my troubles were not over by any means. The young fellow who

was driving me was a stranger to those parts. I was not sure myself of

the track we were taking. It was the custom to spread seaweed on the

track over places where the sand was too loose and the going too heavy.

As we moved along it we came to a particularly dark spot. The lad

hesitated to drive on. I couldn't see very well. I took the dark spot to

be a patch of seaweed, and told him to go on. We had taken the wrong

track. It was not a patch of seaweed, but a big dark hole, and into it

horse, buggy and our precious selves fell. Extricating ourselves from the

mess, satisfying ourselves that no bones were broken, shaking out the

sand from our ears and hair and off my poor nose and face, I walked off

to the Fort to get assistance for my mate and the horse and buggy. I

hadn't been long in my quarters when the bugles sounded the alarm, and

the commanding officer of the troops attached to the Fort, who had been

kindly attending to my numerous bruises, left me to carry out his duty. I

got my old Irish servant to mix me a strong whisky toddy (I don't

remember ever in my life having a drink which I enjoyed so much) and went

to bed.

I was glad to hear next morning from Major Jervois, who came to see me,

that the commanding officers had successfully carried out the task set

them. He was much amused at my personal appearance. Two days afterwards

Colonel Owen arrived. I was patched up enough to be able to ride, and

accompanied him on his first tour of inspection. He had the unique

experience of arriving in his command and finding the whole of the forces

of the colony assembled together in the vicinity of his headquarters,

Adelaide. Two more days and the scare was over. The troops dispersed to

their respective districts.

It was about this time that an event happened which greatly agitated the

social life of Adelaide. The wife of a Victorian country resident had

arrived in Adelaide and had taken a house in the city. She was

good-looking and charming. She appeared to be quite well off. Her house

became a pleasant resort. She entertained well. She delighted in giving

excellent supper parties. She was quite a Bohemian. Her invitations

included young and old, married and single. After a short time she told

her friends that she had got divorced from her husband and that she

intended to make Adelaide her home for a time.

One of the leading young men fell in love with her--or at least thought

he did--and went so far, she gave out, as to ask her to be his wife. It

was evident to those who knew him well that if he had asked her to be his

wife it had probably been after one of the jolly supper parties. At any

rate, if he had done so, he soon repented and told her so. She was not to

be denied, so she took steps to bring a breach of promise action against

him. Not content with this, she set to work to worry him and his friends

as well. In fact, she succeeded in worrying him so much that one day, in

an ill-advised moment, he made a complaint to the police to the effect

that the lady in question really kept a house to which they should pay

special attention. The police had to take the matter up, but they found

it difficult to get sufficient evidence to prove their case. Finally, one

night, after one of the supper-parties, a hansom cab driver who had been

ordered to call for one of the guests arrived at the house drunk and

created a scene. It was the opportunity for the police and they laid a

charge against her.

The case came on before the court. Evidence was given against her, and

she was called upon for her defence. She quietly told the magistrate that

as she had been charged with keeping a certain house she would ask for

time to prepare her defence. She further said she was preparing a list of

names of the married men, well known in Adelaide, who had often been her

guests at her supper-parties, and that she felt sure that when the

magistrate read the names on the list he would never convict her. We

bachelors had a joyful time at the expense of the married men. As the

case had been adjourned for three days, there was a long interval of

suspense for many of them, wondering whether their name would appear in

that "black list." The morning came when the case was to be resumed. To

the surprise of all and the extreme joy of the married men in particular,

she failed to appear in court. Inquiries were made by the police, and it

was found that she had left Adelaide the previous evening. Who had made

it worth her while to disappear was never known. She had, however, made

out the list, which the Police Commissioner received that afternoon by

post. I got a look at it myself afterwards privately, and I was wicked

enough, I suppose, to be sorry that it wasn't published.

CHAPTER IV

THE SOUDAN CONTINGENT

A few months later Mrs. Barr Smith proposed to open the new theatre and

ballroom which had been added to Torrens Park. Private theatricals and

dances were to be the chief attraction. She wished me to take the leading

part in the opening play and coach the others. I knew that I would have

to give more time, than I could really spare, to make it a success.

Further, there was always the possibility of some untoward event

happening which at the last moment might prevent me from taking my part

and probably breaking up the show. My scruples were, however, overcome by

my hostess's kind insistence. We set to work, and all went happily until

three nights before the date on which _The Jacobite_ was to make its

first appearance. The first dress rehearsal was to take place. Clothed in

our beautiful garments we had sat down, a merry party, to dinner. On the

whole I was fairly satisfied with my company, and felt that with a couple

more dress rehearsals it was probable that the show would be a success.

At that very moment Nemesis was ringing the hall bell. In a few minutes

the butler informed me that an orderly wished to see me. In the hall he

handed me an official letter, marked "Urgent and Confidential." I opened

it. I have never had such a surprise in all my life. The document was a

dispatch from Lieutenant Hawker, the officer in charge of the men at the

Fort Largs, stating that he had given some orders to the men that

afternoon and that the majority of them had refused to obey.

Here was a pretty kettle of fish! From the very day of the raising of the

force some three years before there had not been a single instance of

insubordination of any sort. Occasional cases of overstaying leave had

been about the most serious offence that had taken place. And, lo and

behold! without any warning, without the slightest suspicion that

anything was wrong, here was actually a "mutiny." To leave Torrens Park

at once and say good-bye to _The Jacobite_ was my duty. I gave the butler

a message for Mrs. Barr Smith, and she kindly came out of the dining-room

into one of the drawing-rooms. Then I showed her the dispatch. I tried to

convince her that it would be better not to postpone the performance, but

to get somebody else to take up my part. As all arrangements had been

completed, and the opening night was so close at hand, she thought we

would get on all right if I only promised to turn up on the opening

night.

There was a feeling at the back of my head that I had been devoting more

time than I should have done to play. Had I not made up my mind when

General Downes had told me of my first appointment to the staff that

nothing should divert my thoughts from my work? The fact that the social

obligations I had undertaken would necessitate frequent absences from my

command should have weighed with me more. Such were my thoughts. Then

there came back vividly to my mind some words of advice which my kinsman

General Gordon, of Khartoum fame, had given me when I first joined at

Woolwich. Talking to me one day, he told me that there were three golden

rules of life which if adhered to would lead on to success. These rules

were, first: "_Never allow your pleasure to interfere with your duty_."

Second: "Never allow your duty to interfere with your pleasure." Third:

"Never try to force a woman to give you anything more than she wishes." I

thought of these things and decided that no matter how much annoyance I

caused my good friends, there was to be no more playtime for me till I

could indulge in it without any qualms of conscience as to the fulfilment

of my duties. I succeeded in inducing one of the professors of the

university to come to the rescue, which he bravely did, and the

performance took place without me.

I reached Fort Largs late that night after a twenty-mile drive. I had

made up my mind to leave the men alone till the early morning, when as

soon as the time came for the early morning parade I would order them

myself to fall in. They were all in the large barrack-room ready dressed

when the time came for the usual early parade. I walked into the room

accompanied by the lieutenant and the sergeant-major, and called out

"Fall in, men"; they went straight out on to the parade ground and fell

in. The back of the trouble was broken straightway. It was evident to me

that its cause was in a misunderstanding, probably of a personal

character, between the lieutenant and some of the older men, who had

induced the younger soldiers to join them in the action they had taken,

as they afterwards informed me, so as to bring matters to a head. The

incident was inquired into and the evidence fully convicted the two

ringleaders. They were tried by court-martial, sent to prison and

dismissed from the force. So ended the first and last case of

insubordination that took place during the many years that I commanded

the Permanent Artillery. However, the event had been of use to me, as it

had reminded me of General Gordon's golden rules.

The action taken by Sir Frederick Sargood in importing the Imperial

officers to Victoria was resulting in a very considerable improvement in

the military forces of that colony. They were following on the same lines

as South Australia as regarded their constitution; a very much higher

standard of instruction, a better supervision of detail, and competent

inspection contributed to this much-desired result.

Let us see what was going on in New South Wales. The Officer Commanding

the Forces was Major-General Richardson, who had been in the regular

forces, had retired, and had been appointed Commandant some years

previously. The organization of the military forces of "the Mother

Colony" was being brought into line with that of Victoria and South

Australia. The other three colonies, Queensland, Western Australia and

Tasmania, had been gradually following the lead given by the others,

though, as in New South Wales, they had not as yet imported Imperial

officers to take command.

Towards the close of 1884 the course of our campaign in Egypt was running

anything but smoothly; in fact, the military situation was very serious

and critical. Throughout the Empire a strong feeling of apprehension was

rife, but it was left to New South Wales, the Mother State, to be the

first of England's children to make an offer of material help. Who first

conceived the idea is not recorded, but the credit of crystallizing and

giving it effect belongs to the late the Hon. John B. Dalley. This was

not actually the first occasion on which Australians had offered to fight

alongside English regular troops, for, at the time of the Maori War in

New Zealand, volunteers from New South Wales and Victoria had raised

units and joined in the fighting. But such action on their part had been

looked upon as only natural. New Zealand was their next-door neighbour,

really a sister colony, and it was to the best interests of Australia

that she should be freed from the native menace.

The offer to send troops from the southern to the northern hemisphere was

quite another affair. The thought which inspired that offer could not

have arisen from any feeling of selfish interest. It was really the

outward sign of the affection and love for the Old Country and home

inherited by the colonists. Indeed, the rising Australian generation

realized what a glorious and magnificent heritage the Mother Country had

so generously and freely entrusted to the care of the early pioneers,

their forbears. From the day when the first Englishman set foot in

Australia and the first settlement was founded, right up to the year

1884, when the offer was made, no enemy had ever threatened Australia's

shores.

Australians rejoice that theirs is the only "virgin" continent in this

world. From the day of its birth there had not been a drop of blood shed

on its soil in the strife of war. No other country can make so glorious a

boast. Yet it is true. It is not to be wondered at when, for the first

time for a considerable number of years, a British army was reported to

be in peril, Australia offered to share with them the burden and heat of

the day. The British Government received the offer in the spirit in which

it was made. It conveyed to Australians that it fully recognized the

feelings of patriotism and unselfishness which had prompted the offer,

and accepted it. A contingent composed of one battery of field artillery,

one battalion of infantry and a field ambulance, was organized and

equipped, and left Sydney Harbour in white troopships, carrying with them

the best wishes of all.

As a result of communications between the South Australian and the New

South Wales Governments it was decided to send two of the transports via

Melbourne and Albany, with a promise that they would call at Adelaide if

time permitted. Later on we heard that the troops would divert from the

direct route, Melbourne to Albany, and would pass through Backstairs

Passage into the Gulf of St. Vincent, continuing their journey through

Investigator's Straits. They would have no time to steam up St. Vincent's

Gulf to Adelaide, but they would "cry a halt" for a couple of hours,

taking shelter in the smooth waters of Hogg's Bay on the north shores of

Kangaroo Island.

This was as much as they could do to fulfil their promise within their

scheduled time. We arranged to proceed to Hogg's Bay in the _Protector_

to wish them good speed. The Government issued invitations for this

historic trip. Then the news arrived that the troopships were timed to

reach Hogg's Bay at one o'clock in the morning. Fortunately the moon was

nearly at its full. The _Protector_, with its valuable cargo on board,

including myself, left Port Adelaide in the afternoon. The Government had

taken on board several tons of fruits then in season, as well as a

plentiful supply of fireworks. The worthy commander of the _Protector_

arranged the speed of the ship so as to reach Hogg's Bay just prior to

the hour at which the troopships were expected. It was a glorious night,

a calm sea. Presently the two white troopships loomed up in the offing,

entered the shelter of the bay, and dropped anchor. There were no gun

salutes, of course, but from the decks of the _Protector_ soared hundreds

of rockets. With bands playing the _Protector_ made a tour round the

anchored troopships. Cheers upon cheers rose from her decks, and, before

their echoes could be heard, a thousand voices on the troopships cheered

in response. Immense flares on shore lit up the sky, and the calm surface

of the sea seemed as if on fire. It was an inspiring sight, and one not

to be forgotten. The tour round the ships being concluded, boats were

lowered from the _Protector_ and visitors conveyed to the troopships.

Farewells took place. Though tempered by the personal regrets of those

who were being left behind, their good wishes for their more fortunate

comrades were genuine and straight from their hearts. One last toast,

"Her Majesty the Queen"; one last song, "Auld Lang Syne." Back to our

boats and on board the _Protector_. The noise of the windlasses weighing

the anchors was heard as the last of us reached the _Protector_'s decks.

The troopships' whistles resounded deep on the midnight air. The engines

pulsed; the troopships moved and gathered speed. The strains of "Rule

Britannia" filled our ears, then ceased, as the white ships, phantom-like

in the haze, gradually disappeared. We arrived back at Port Adelaide in

time for breakfast.

We will not follow the contingent's history and its doings in Egypt, but

I will quote a passage from Lord Wolseley's dispatch dated June 15,

1885:--

"The Contingent's work has been so satisfactory that I trust that

the noble and patriotic example set by New South Wales may, should

occasion arise, be followed by other colonies."

Lord Wolseley's hopes have been fully realized.

CHAPTER V

A TIME OF RETRENCHMENT

The term of office of General Owen began with the passing of the "Russian

scare." The finances of the colony were for the time being undergoing a

period of depression. Economy had to be enforced, and General Owen's

first instructions from the Government were to recommend ways and means

of effecting reductions to meet the decrease in the military vote. Major

Jervois's period of service as adjutant-general came to an end about this

time, and the Commandant was informed that it was not proposed to have

him replaced by another officer from England.

It was not practicable to carry on the administration without some

qualified officer to assist the Commandant with his duties. The

inspections of the country units by the Commandant at least once a year

were necessary under the provisions of the Defence Act. During the

periods of his absence on inspection tours the presence of a qualified

deputy at headquarters was necessary. To overcome this difficulty he

asked me if I would undertake the duties of adjutant-general in addition

to those as Officer Commanding the Permanent Artillery. My answer was

that I would do my best. So it came about that in some three years from

my first appointment I had reached the position of practically

Second-in-Command. The fulfilment of my vision seemed to be coming more

quickly than my wildest dreams ever expected.

To carry out retrenchment is ever an unpleasant and thankless job, and

the first six months of our new regime was no exception to the rule. If

you remember, the military forces of the colony comprised no less than

four separate systems--the Regulars or Permanent Artillery, the partially

paid force, the Volunteers, and the rifle clubs. Each of them was serving

under different regulations. Each also had its own interests to

safeguard, and each its staunch supporters. As the pruning knife began

its work, so, violent opposition arose from those to whom it was being

applied. Presently, as the knife kept on moving, dissatisfaction became

general. The supporters of each system wished for the retrenchment of the

others and the maintenance of their own. This, of course, was specially

the case with the partially paid and the volunteer forces. The first

claimed that, with their greater efficiency, if the numbers were somewhat

increased the colony would have a more reliable force than if the

Volunteers were retained. On the other hand, the Volunteers claimed that,

with more instruction and drill, they could be depended on to fight all

right if the necessity arose, and the saving made by abolishing the pay

of the partially paid forces would accomplish all the economy desired by

the Government.

Shortly afterwards the annual session of Parliament opened, with the

usual "floods of talk." Members who were really concerned for the forces

were up and fighting in the interests of the special system of

retrenchment they advocated; the Government were disinclined to stick to

their guns and insist upon the question being one for the Government to

deal with. The result was the common one in such cases--the appointment

of a Royal Commission to inquire into and report upon the conduct of the

forces for the past year, and make such recommendations for retrenchment

as the Commission should deem advisable. With the very limited staff at

my disposal the strain became very severe. In addition the Commandant's

temper did not improve with these happenings. He was a bachelor, and had

not the opportunities a married man has of forgetting official troubles

when enjoying the comfort and happiness of his home. However, we pulled

through, though the Commission sat for some considerable time, during

which no amount of returns seemed to satisfy its cravings for

information. The report of the Commission was by-and-by duly printed and

submitted to the Government, which promised to lay it before Parliament

on a suitable date for the information of Members, and after that the

Government would make the opportunity for the fullest discussion by the

House.

With the close of the year 1888 would come the completion of General

Owen's three years' agreement with the Government. This agreement set out

that at the end of three years the term of service could be further

extended by two years by mutual consent.

Month after month passed away. The Commission sent in its report. When it

was discussed in the House no final conclusion was arrived at. A second

Commission was appointed, and by the time its report was presented to the

Government and the House met, General Owen's term of three years was

coming to a close. It is not to be wondered that the condition of the

forces was unsatisfactory, their numbers reduced, recruiting stopped,

equipment wearing out, schools of instruction held only at rare

intervals. It was a disheartening time for all of us. Enthusiasm lacked,

and the officers and men were sick at heart.

As it was expedient for General Owen to notify the Imperial Government as

to his future movements, he thought it advisable to approach Mr.

Playford, then Minister of Defence, on the subject of the two years'

extension. The Hon. Thomas Playford, popularly known as "Honest Tom," had

been brought up working on his father's market garden, which was situated

in the hills not far from Morialta, the home of the Bakers. He was a

great, tall, powerful, heavy man, much above the average size. At their

interview General Owen referred to the terms of his agreement and

diplomatically sought to discover whether the Government were agreeable

to the two years' extension. As I have pointed out, the general's term of

office had not been too happy a one. The report of the Commissions and

the discussions in Parliament had given rise to a considerable amount of

friction and many adverse comments in the Press. Mr. Playford pointed out

to him that as Parliament was to be prorogued before Christmas he thought

it advisable not to settle the question for the time being. He suggested

that the general should reopen it after the prorogation. The Government

would then be in recess, and as the House would not be sitting, no

disagreeable questions could be raised by members. By making no final

decision before the prorogation he, as Minister, was in a position, in

case questions were asked, to reply that nothing had been decided, and

that the matter was under the consideration of the Government. The

general told me about this interview, and, talking it over, we came to

the conclusion--especially as Mr. Playford had suggested to the general

not to press for an answer just then--that he wished to reopen

negotiations after the prorogation of the House, and that it was his

intention to agree to the extension.

Parliament was prorogued. The general then sent an official letter to Mr.

Playford, reopening the matter, concluding with a statement to the effect

that if the Government were agreeable he, on his part, was prepared to

carry on. He received no acknowledgment of his letter, but he did read

next morning in the papers a statement, evidently inspired, to the effect

that "the Commandant, General Owen, had notified the Ministerial head of

the Department that he was willing to continue his duties for two years

if the Government so desired. The Government, however, did _not_ see

their way to meet the general's wishes." I shall never forget that

morning. The general came to the office in his uniform. As a rule he wore

plain clothes unless he was on some special duty. I was not surprised at

the state of mind he was in. The paragraph, on the face of it, and in the

absence of any acknowledgment of the general's letter, and considering

the tenor of their interview early in December, appeared to be in the

nature of a direct insult, almost premeditated. I sent off an orderly to

the Government offices with a letter from the general requesting an

interview with Mr. Playford as soon as possible.

The answer came back that the Minister was ready to see General Owen at

once. Off went the general. I returned to my room, sat down, lit a pipe

and began to think. It was not long before I heard him return. I didn't

wait to be sent for. I walked straight into his room. He was in such a

temper that he could hardly speak. I felt that his interview must have

been a very painful one. So it had. It had not been long. He told me the

only few words that had taken place. The general appeared to have made

some remark to the effect that it seemed to him that if the paragraph in

the newspapers had been supplied by the Minister, or with his approval,

such action was a direct insult, not only to himself personally, but also

to the uniform he had the honour to wear.

The answer the general received from Mr. Playford fairly astonished me.

It was something to the effect that "if the general had asked to see him

to insult him, the sooner he left the room the better, or he would _kick_

him out." Nothing would suit the general for the moment but to send for

the representatives of the Press and give them an account of the

interview. I succeeded in altering his mind, and suggested that he should

see the Chief Justice and the Governor first, and obtain their advice as

to what action he should take.

This he did, and, as far as I remember, the unfortunate incident was

never made public.

The general made his plans for returning to England at once. General Owen

subsequently filled many important appointments. He was selected some

years afterwards as Commandant of the Colony of Queensland. He was

determined to get back on the South Australians and show them that there

were other people in the world who appreciated his services, even if Mr.

Playford and Co. had not done so. He afterwards commanded the artillery

at Malta, and for a time was Acting-Governor of the island. Later on he

held the position of president of the Ordnance Committee, the most

scientific committee that I know of in our service.

Years later on it fell to me to have a tussle with Honest Tom when he was

Minister for Defence in the Federal Government. About this more anon.

Immediately the general informed me of his decision to leave for England,

the first thought that naturally came to my mind was, "Who is going to

succeed him as Commandant?" I took steps to find out whether the

Government had communicated by cable to England for a successor. They had

not done so. That they had not taken any action in the matter seemed to

me to point to the fact that the unfortunate words uttered in the

interview which had ended so unhappily had not been premeditated by the

Government; otherwise, one would think, they would have taken some steps

to secure a successor. I bethought myself of our old Commandant, General

Downes, then secretary to Sir Frederick Sargood in Victoria. I knew

personally, from conversations that I had had with him during my visits

to Melbourne, that the duties he was performing were not congenial to

him. I at once wrote to him confidentially, told him of the catastrophe

that had overtaken us, and asked him straight whether he was willing to

take up the command in South Australia again if it was offered to him. He

answered, "Yes, certainly, if it is offered." I couldn't possibly

approach Playford in the matter. Playford, according to the general's

account, had been much too rude to my Commandant.

But there are always ways--quite straight, not crooked--of approaching

those in power. Sufficient to say that the Government decided to offer

the appointment to General Downes. During my conversations with those who

had at the time the reins of Government in their hands it was suggested

to me that I should be a candidate for the position. What an alluring

prospect! Was my vision to come true so quickly? Though my work under

General Owen had given him full satisfaction, and I had a good hold of

all the senior commanding officers, I felt that it was too early in the

day for me to accept so heavy a responsibility. I could afford to wait.

Hence my suggestion to the Government to reappoint General Downes.

An interval of some two months took place from the time of General Owen's

departure and the arrival of General Downes from Melbourne. During this

period I was appointed Acting Commandant, and I took my seat in that very

chair in which General Downes had sat on the day he told me of my first

appointment. The vision had been temporarily fulfilled. It was to be

confirmed later on.

The first task I set to myself as Acting Commandant was to make a very

close examination into the state of our finances. The official financial

year closed on June 30.

The annual continuous camps of training were held during the Easter

holidays. I determined to strain every effort to hold a record camp, at

which every member of the force should be present. As soon as I was

satisfied that I could carry out my wishes I wrote to General Downes,

asking him to arrive in Adelaide, if suitable, the day after the troops

had assembled in camp for their annual training, when I would hand over

the command to him. All went well. I selected a site at a place called

Keswick, near the Black Forest, just west of Adelaide. It was the

locality that had been fixed upon in the local defence scheme for the

assembly of the troops in case of invasion. We had a full muster. The

general arrived and took command. He was welcomed by the officers and men

alike. My responsibilities for the time being were over.

The success of General Downes's previous term of command was a big factor

in assisting him to obtain support from the Government and the public at

large, and a somewhat generous increase in the military vote was made

available. His first request to the Government was for the assistance of

an Imperial officer as adjutant-general to relieve me from the onerous

double duties I had fulfilled for three years during Owen's term of

office. The Government concurred at once. A cable was sent home. Within a

few days the general was notified that Major Lovett, Somersetshire Light

Infantry, had been appointed and was sailing at once from London for

Adelaide. On his arrival I handed over to him my duties as

adjutant-general.

General Downes was fully aware of the six years' work that had fallen to

my lot since the fateful January 2, 1882, the day on which he had

notified me of my first appointment. He had, of course, watched from

Victoria with keen interest our difficult and troublous times for the

three years past.

With his usual forethought and kindness he suggested I should apply for

six months' leave. I thanked him heartily and sent in my application.

It was approved.

Oh, what joy!

CHAPTER VI

MY VISION FULFILLED

My voyage homewards on the _Valetta_ was indeed a contrast to the three

months spent on the good old clipper, the _Waipa_, on my way to New

Zealand.

I had arrived in New Zealand in November, 1879, as you know, with

practically nothing before me but a determined and firm resolve to make

good somehow, without any assistance except that which I could give

myself. Within ten years I was returning home, with a record of service

of which I could be proud.

Within those ten years I had held the position of Acting Commandant of an

important colony, with the temporary rank of full colonel, and was going

home with the rank of major. If I had remained in the good old regiment I

would have been fortunate if I had got my captaincy within that period.

But what about the knowledge and experience I had gained, not only as a

gunner, but as a staff officer, and, yet more, as an officer charged with

grave responsibilities in the administration and command of troops,

organized and maintained on lines differing totally from the hard and

fast methods governing our Regular Army, but eminently suitable to the

economic conditions of the healthy young colonies whose citizens were

true to the core at heart in their patriotism and were ready to make many

sacrifices to maintain the might of the Motherland?

For seven years my home had been in Adelaide. My friends had always

cheered me on in my work. If the exuberance of youth, good health and the

happiest of surroundings--all friends, and no foes that I knew of--had

not made my life happy, the fault would have been my own. I am

moralizing--the one thing I have been trying to avoid all through my

tale. What really is in my mind is to point out to any youngster who

reads this, and whose future suddenly becomes blurred and may appear

hopeless, that if he relies on his own self, gives his truest instincts

fair play, and determines to beat his bad luck and give to himself his

best, he will more than likely succeed, as it was my good fortune to do.

Now let us get back on board the ss. _Valetta_, on the moonlight night

when she weighed anchor off Largs Bay and I bade "adios" to the many

friends who had accompanied me on board, and who, re-embarking on the

Customs launch, followed the vessel down the gulf till the evening shades

hid them from our sight. The five weeks spent on the _Valetta_ on the

homeward trip were indeed enjoyable. First, the weather was fine all the

way. I do not think we had one really rough day. The ship was full; not

an empty berth. A "land boom" was on at the time; there was plenty of

money about, and most of the passengers were well-to-do men taking their

families home to have a good time. Land booms I have heard described as

speculations in land, owing to which men with, say, a few hundred pounds

quickly become possessed of as many thousands (on paper, not in land).

Presently the boom cracks, the thousands disappear. I am sorry to say

that this actually happened later on to several of our passengers.

We arrived at Brindisi, and thence went overland to Calais; then Dover

and good old London. What a pleasure it was to get back to the old club,

stay at the old hotel, sit in the little balcony at Morley's, gaze at

Nelson's monument, and walk round the old haunts! After a few days' stay

in London I went home to Wardhouse.

I had undertaken only one official matter to inquire into during my

absence on leave. It was to report upon the method then in vogue for the

supply of warlike material to the colonies. This method was as follows.

An officer, at that time General Harding-Stewart, retired, was acting as

military adviser and inspector of warlike stores to the several colonies.

When any of the colonies ordered rifles, guns or other requirements, he

procured them in London, working on commission. No doubt he meant well,

but at the time I left Adelaide there were hardly two heavy guns alike in

any of the colonies. A climax had been reached when New South Wales

ordered two 10-inch muzzle-loaders similar to the two which South

Australia had mounted at Fort Glanville. The New South Wales guns were

supplied by the same firm. They arrived in Sydney and were mounted at

Middle Head Fort. I visited Sydney at the time they were being mounted,

and found that their calibre differed from the South Australian guns by a

fraction of an inch, so that the ammunition was not interchangeable. As a

matter of fact, there were but few guns of Imperial pattern in the whole

of Australia; we were armed mostly with experimental guns of private

firms.

As a result of my inquiries I came to the conclusion that it would be

more satisfactory if a senior officer on the active list of the Royal

Regiment of Artillery was appointed at a fixed salary for a term of

years, who would be instructed, at any rate in the case of heavy

ordnance, field guns and rifles, to supply none except of a pattern

passed into the Imperial Service itself. This recommendation was

submitted by me to my Premier at Adelaide on my return, passed on by him

to the other Premiers concerned, and finally given effect to, and Lieut.

Colonel King-Harman, R.A., was appointed. Little did I think that, within

ten years, I myself was to receive the appointment.

I had also intended to pay a visit to the Expeditionary Force at that

time operating up the Nile. But the relief or fall of Khartoum was

imminent, and the time at my disposal was not sufficient. Khartoum fell

and General Gordon was murdered. Who was to blame? I wonder. Have you

ever been to see and studied the statue raised to his memory in Trafalgar

Square, a replica of which stands in Spring Gardens, Melbourne? If not,

do so some day, and look well into his face. Its expression is one of sad

thought. So might he have looked as he stood in Khartoum facing death.

I must pass over the glorious days I spent at home; they were the last I

spent with my father and mother.

Taking my passage by the _Massilia_, a sister ship to the _Valetta_, I

set out once more for the fair lands of the South, happy and contented,

mentally and physically refreshed, and determined to rise still higher in

my profession. On my arrival at Adelaide I received a right royal

welcome. I found General Downes going strong. There had been no more talk

of Royal Commissions. Major Lovett had settled down to his work and was a

general favourite; he himself liked Adelaide immensely. More funds had

been made available; my own Permanent Artillery had behaved well during

my absence and were doing well. For the next two years nothing occurred

out of the usual, either in South Australia or the other colonies, from a

military point of view. The end of 1891 was approaching; the general

decided to retire. Major Lovett had completed his term as

adjutant-general and was returning home. I was asked to step into the

breach once more and take up his duties as well as my own. I, of course,

agreed, and I was promoted to lieutenant-colonel early in 1892.

The Premier of South Australia was then Charles Cameron Kingston, or, to

give him his full title, which he dearly loved, Sergeant Charles Cameron

Kingston, B Company, 1st Regiment, Adelaide Rifles. Kingston possessed a

charming personality. He was a most able lawyer, could see through most

things and most people, could analyse a difficult subject, select what

was good, discard what was bad, quicker than most men. As a politician he

was highly successful. Rough old Seddon of New Zealand might be reckoned

as his closest rival. As a lawyer he was sound as a bell, a most eminent

draftsman, and a mighty quick worker when he liked, though he was not a

model of industry. As a sergeant he was tip-top. B Company was the best

company in the regiment; he seldom missed a parade. As a "sport" he was

loved by old and young. They spoke of him as "Good old Charlie."

General Downes, when leaving, made up his mind to recommend to the

Government to secure the services of another Imperial officer on the

active list to succeed him who should take over the command before the

actual date of his own retirement. Personally I must say I was rather

surprised at the general's action, for by this time I had full confidence

that I could carry out the duties myself. I had not by any means wasted

all my time during my leave two years before; I had got much information.

Then I had been instrumental in obtaining for him his second term of

command, notwithstanding that he had retired from the active list himself

when he had taken up the duties of secretary to Sir Frederick Sargood. So

I had hoped that, while he might express his opinion to the Government,

he would not insist on it too much. I must admit that he was quite frank

with me as to the attitude he was taking up. His argument was to this

effect. It had been found necessary before to supersede local officers.

"Surely," he said, "the same considerations that held good then hold good

now. I do not say that you are not qualified to fill the position, but if

you are appointed it will form a precedent, and, on the expiry of the

terms of the engagements of the Imperial officers in the other colonies

the claims of local officers will again naturally be put forward. Then

good-bye to the system of obtaining the services of thoroughly

experienced officers who have no local interests and no axes to grind."

Meantime, the senior commanding officers of several branches of our

forces were, without my knowledge, beginning to interest themselves to

have me appointed as successor to the general.

To return to Sergeant Charles Cameron Kingston, let me tell of an

incident which may give you some insight into the personal character of a

remarkable man. It is one which, except for an accident, might have had

fatal results. Kingston was leading the Government at the time; Sir

Richard Baker of Morialta was President of the Upper House. Kingston had

introduced a Bill in the House of Representatives dealing with

arbitration in industrial disputes. Sir Richard Baker was the father of a

Bill introduced into the Senate on the same subject. While the aims of

the two were identical, the methods by which those results were to be

obtained were by no means analogous. Each Bill had its supporters in each

House. As the debates proceeded considerable bitterness arose, ending in

correspondence in the daily Press. Finally, Kingston and Baker commenced

to abuse each other in print. Kingston's temper gave out. He wrote a

letter to Sir Richard which he had delivered at the latter's office in

Victoria Square, together with a case containing a pistol and some

cartridges. He could no longer stand what he considered the insults Sir

Richard had thought fit to level at him. The letter stated that he would

be on the pavement on the opposite side of the street to the entrance to

Sir Richard's office at five minutes to twelve o'clock, noon, next day,

Saturday, and asked Sir Richard to take up a position on the pavement

outside his offices at that hour, bringing his pistol with him. As soon

as the post office clock, which was close to the office, began to strike

twelve, each would step into the roadway and shoot at his leisure. A

quaint duel, was it not?

The accident which saved the situation was the fact that Sir Richard was

not in the habit of attending his office on Saturday morning. His son, or

someone in the office, opened Kingston's letter, and the police were

informed. Shortly before noon Kingston was seen walking across from the

Government Offices towards Baker's offices. Two constables in plain

clothes followed him and watched him as he coolly took up his stand on

the pavement. The hands of the post office clock pointed at three minutes

to twelve. The two constables walked up to Mr. Kingston. They politely

asked him what his business was. "I am just waiting for Baker to come out

of his office," he answered; "then you will see some sport. I advise you

to move a bit to one side. I don't think he is much of a shot. He might

get one of you two." The constables, who were well known to Kingston,

informed him that Sir Richard had not been to his office that morning, so

that there would be no sport, but they had instructions from the

Commissioner of Police to arrest him for attempting to commit a breach of

the peace, and to take him at once before a magistrate. Within half an

hour he appeared before a police magistrate, had his pistol taken from

him, and was bound over to keep the peace for six months.

In the meantime the news had spread throughout Adelaide like wildfire,

and had reached Sir Richard at the Adelaide Club. Kingston's letter and

the revolver which accompanied it had been sent down to the club from Sir

Richard's office after twelve o'clock. No sooner had Sir Richard been

told of what had happened than he put the revolver Kingston had sent him

into his pocket, borrowed another at the club, and started off to look

for his challenger, who, he knew, usually lunched at Parliament House and

would at this time probably be walking down King William Street from the

Government Offices in Victoria Square. He was not mistaken, for after

proceeding a short way up King William Street he came face to face with

Kingston. "I am sorry," he said, "I was not at my office this morning,

but here I am now. Stand off, and the first one who counts five aloud can

shoot away."

"I am sorry," said Kingston, "but I can't oblige you; the police have

taken away my revolver."

"Never mind," said Baker, "here is the one you sent me," handing it over

to him. "I don't believe it will go off. I have one of my own."

It was now time to interfere. Three of us who had followed Sir Richard

out from the club stepped in and good counsels prevailed. As Kingston had

been bound over to keep the peace for six months no duel could take

place. As a matter of fact, it was not long before the two redoubtable

belligerents shook hands and had a friendly laugh over the incident.

Now comes the sequel. By the Regulations under the Military Act, any

member of the forces convicted of an offence in a civil court was liable

to dismissal. On the Monday morning a full report of the case appeared in

the newspapers. Before this took place General Downes had retired and I

was once more acting Commandant. The officer who was acting

Adjutant-General brought the newspaper report under my notice officially.

There was no other course but to order Sergeant Kingston to be put under

arrest and called upon to make a statement, if he so wished, before he

was dismissed from the forces, in accordance with the Regulations. This

order I gave. The Attorney-General at the time, Mr. Homburgh, was very

much concerned at my order. A doubt then entered my mind as to whether

being bound over to keep the peace amounted to a conviction under the

provisions of the Defence Act Regulations. I immediately referred the

question to the Crown Solicitor, who said it was a difficult question I

had raised, but ruled finally that being bound over to keep the peace was

not tantamount to a conviction within the meaning of the Regulations.

Whether this was sound law or not I cannot say, but it gave me the

opportunity to let Sergeant Kingston off easily. I at once sent orders to

his commanding officer to warn the sergeant to appear before me at the

Staff Office the next morning, so that I could deal with the case.