THE MARCH TO MAGDALA.

On board Transport General Havelock,

December 1st, 1867.

I am happy to say that, speaking personally, the Abyssinian expedition has

begun. I am on my way to that cheerful and well-ordered country. Had I

known on landing in Bombay that I should be detained there for a month, I

should have made myself very comfortable, and should have enjoyed myself

exceedingly. But I thought that, although the Commander-in-chief and the

main body of the expedition were not sailing for two months, I should do

better to push on at once. I accordingly applied for a passage, and was

promised one as soon as possible. This phrase, “as soon as possible,” in

the mouth of an ordinary individual, means something. From an official it

means just nothing. It is merely one of those vague ambiguities in which

the official mind delights. It is a phrase which admits of no argument

whatever.

Day after day passed, and nothing came of it. A steamer or two started,

but although we expressed our willingness to sleep on deck, and put up

with any accommodation whatever, no room could be found. One of our

number, hopeless and disgusted, took passage in the last Peninsular and

Oriental steamer, and is probably at the present moment wandering about

Aden, praying for a passage across. I thought it better to wait here until

I could be taken direct to our destination. At last came the intelligence

that our horses could be put on board a sailing-ship. This was something

done, and I felt really thankful when, after a long day’s work, I left the

ship’s side, leaving the horses and their syces on board. Indeed, the

servant question is one of the most serious of those which present

themselves to the mind of an intending Abyssinian expeditionist. It is not

difficult to get one. You only have to speak, to get half-a-dozen servants

and syces. But you know, both by the warnings of your friends and by your

own instincts, that so many applicants, so many rogues. It is at present

the very best profession in Bombay to get hired to a master going to

Abyssinia, and to disappear two days before he leaves with his purse and

any other portable valuables which may come handy. My first servant, a

mild Hindoo of engaging aspect, was seized with a pulmonary affection,

while his brother, who was servant to a friend of mine, was at the last

moment melted by the tears of an aged and despairing mother, and both left

us; but not until some hours after their departure did we find that they

had, of course accidentally, carried away with them a considerable amount

of specie and small valuables. When at last a servant is obtained who

really does mean to go to Abyssinia, there is no little trouble to be gone

through with him. He must have a month’s, or perhaps two months’, pay in

advance. He must have an arrangement made for the payment of the greater

part of his wages to his family during his absence. He must be provided,

at your expense, with warm clothes, boots, blankets, &c.; and all this

with the strong chance of his bolting at the last moment. One of my syces

alarmed me greatly by not turning up on the morning when the horses were

to be embarked; but he finally appeared upon the landing-stage just as

they were being slung into a lighter, three hours after the time named.

Whether he or any of the syces finally accompanied the horses I am unable

to say, as the ship, instead of sailing that afternoon as positively

settled by the authorities, was detained three or four days; and it is

very probable that during that time the syces slipped ashore with their

warm clothes, advance of wages, &c. This painful question cannot be solved

until the ship with the horses arrives at Annesley Bay. Another four or

five days passed, and then came the welcome order to go at once on board

the General Havelock, which was to start the next day at noon. On board we

accordingly went, but found, as we anticipated, that there was no chance

of her starting for that day at any rate. The usual conflict of

departments was taking place. Some department had ordered a force of

twenty European soldiers and fifty Sepoys belonging to the transport train

to come on board. This they did. Then came a committee of some other

department, and questioned whether the Havelock was fit to carry this

force, and whether they had not better be transferred to some other ship.

Finding that the men’s things were all below, it was determined to leave

them as they were. Then the same committee, with a view, I suppose, of

making the vessel more comfortable, determined to send three and a half

tons of gunpowder on board, and with this intent sent a carpenter in the

course of the afternoon, who took down the only available bath, and

prepared to convert the same into a powder-magazine. The next morning the

same carpenter came on board and brought some more tools, and then

returned to shore. In the afternoon he fetched the tools away. In the mean

time one department had sent the water-lighter alongside; but another

department had sent no tanks on board to receive it. Presently that

department sent some tanks, but as it had not occurred to it to measure

the hatchways, the tanks were considerably larger than the opening down

which they had to go, so they had to be taken away and a fresh set of

tanks brought on board. Then, long after dusk, the water-ship again came

alongside, and we took in our water. In the mean time we went ashore to

the department which had sent us on board, to ask when it was probable

that the Havelock would really sail. We were assured by that department

that she had already started, and we had great difficulty in persuading it

that she was still at anchor, and likely to remain so. The next morning,

the powder not having arrived, and nothing more having been heard either

of it or of the carpenter, our captain got up steam and started; and it is

by no means improbable that the powder, with one or two committees of

departments, are at present cruising about Bombay harbour looking for the

Havelock. And yet ours is an absolutely favourable example, for a steamer

last week was detained six days after the date of the embarkation of its

passengers. And if this confusion exists now, when only one or two vessels

are starting a-week, what a scene of confusion will it be when the main

body of the force sails! It always is so, and always will be so, as long

as our army is managed by a set of independent departments, who have no

concert whatever between them. We have here the quartermaster-general’s

department, the commissariat, the land-transport, the marine, the

adjutant-general’s department, the ordnance, and so on _ad infinitum_.

Military men are the first and loudest to complain of this multiplication

of offices without union or concert, which work together well enough in

quiet times, but which in emergencies paralyse each other’s efforts, and

cause a confusion in exact proportion to their own number. It needs some

military reformer of an iron will, and an assured parliamentary support,

to put an end to all this, to do away with the independence of the various

departments of the service, and to make them all subordinate branches of

the adjutant-general’s office; so that a general upon service may give his

orders to his adjutant-general only, and the latter may instruct the

officers of the departments under him as to what should be done. All

indents and orders should be given to him alone, and he should be

responsible for the working of the several branches. In some respects it

turned out to be as well that we had not started at the time named, for at

night, when the rations were served out to the troops, it was found that

both the porter and arrack, which form a somewhat important part of a

soldier’s rations, had not been sent on board by the commissariat. Great

was the consternation. However, fortunately next day, while departments

were skirmishing over water and water-tanks, and the carpenter was going

and coming with his tools, there was time to send to the commissariat, and

for them to repair their error.

The General Havelock is a steamer of about 250 tons, and the object of her

builders appears to have been to combine the maximum of rolling qualities

with the minimum of speed. In calm weather she can steam six and a half

knots an hour; in a slight swell she can roll to an angle of thirty-five

degrees. Having said this, I have said all that can be said in dispraise

of the vessel. She has capital accommodation for a ship of her size, a

snug little poop-deck, extremely comfortable seats and chairs, a perfect

absence of any smell from the engine-room, and one of the jolliest

skippers in existence. So we are very comfortable. We are five in number;

three officers of the Land Transport Corps, and two “specials;” and as we

get under the awnings on the poop-deck, while a fair breeze is helping us

along at the rate of eight knots an hour, we agree that we have all the

advantages of keeping a steam-yacht without the expense. The charge

Government makes to officers while on board is eight rupees a-day, which

is handed over to the captain of the ship, who has to supply everything

for that sum. I do not think that the captain of the Havelock will be a

gainer by this transaction. We all sleep on deck, not from necessity, for

there are plenty of berths below, but partly because the nights on deck

are charming, although a little cold, and partly from horror of a species

of monster, which appears to me to be as large as cats—but this may be the

effect of imagination and extreme terror—and to run much faster. They have

many legs, and horns resembling bullocks’. They are fearless of man, and

indeed attack him with ferocity. I call them vampires—their ordinary name

is cockroaches. This sleeping on deck is attended with occasional

drawbacks. Last night I was awakened by a splash of water on my face.

Thinking it was spray, I pulled my rug over my face, but only for an

instant, for a rush of water came down upon me as if emptied from a

bucket. In an instant everyone was upon his feet, and began dragging his

bed over to the leeward side of the ship. But it was no use. The rain tore

across the deck as if pumped by a hundred steam fire-engines, and nothing

remained for us but to beat a retreat down through the cabin staylight,

for to go outside the awning by the ordinary poop-ladder was out of the

question. Our first amazement and consternation over, we had a great laugh

as we gained the cabin-floor, drenched through, and with our silk

sleeping-dresses clinging to us in the most uncomfortable manner. By the

time we had changed these the storm was over as suddenly as it had begun,

and taking fresh rugs we soon regained our beds, which, turned over, were

dry enough on the lower side for all practical purposes.

Over the engine-room is a large bridge-deck, and here are the quarters of

the European soldiers, twenty-five in number, while the sepoys occupy the

main deck. Both the Europeans and sepoys are volunteers from various

regiments into the Land Transport Train. This is a newly-organised corps,

and is only formed for the purposes of the expedition, both officers and

men returning at its conclusion to their regiments. It is commanded by

Major Warden, and consists of fourteen divisions, each containing two

thousand baggage-animals. To look after each of these divisions are a

captain and two subalterns, together with thirty-eight men—Europeans and

sepoys, who are divided into four classes. When it is remembered that

among the two thousand animals are oxen, horses, mules, camels, and

elephants, and that there will be an attendant to each two animals, it

will be seen that the post of officer in a division of the Land Transport

Corps will be by no means a sinecure. His difficulties, too, will be

heightened by the fact that the drivers will be men of innumerable

nationalities and races—Spaniards and Italians with the mules, Greeks from

Smyrna and Beyrout, Egyptians and Nubians, Arabs and Affghans, together

with men from all the varied tribes of India. The sepoys who are with us

do not appear to me at all the sort of men for the service. They belong

entirely to infantry regiments, and are quite unaccustomed to horses. The

Hindoo is not naturally a horseman; and to take a number of infantry

sepoys and put them on horses, and set them at once to severe work, is an

absurdity, which will be speedily demonstrated to be such by the men being

knocked up and in hospital by the end of the first week. Only men

belonging to the native cavalry should have been allowed to volunteer. It

is true that many of the Europeans also belong to line regiments, but the

same objection does not hold good to them, for most Englishmen are more or

less accustomed to horses, and if not they soon fall into it.

‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐

Annesley Bay, December 4th.

Our voyage has not terminated so uneventfully as it began, and I am no

longer writing on board the General Havelock, but on the Salsette, a very

fine Peninsular and Oriental steamer, having a portion of the 33d regiment

from Kurrachee on board, and having the Indian Chief, with another portion

of the same regiment, in tow. This Red-Sea navigation is a most intricate

and dangerous business, and this western shore is in particular completely

studded with islands and coral-reefs. These islands differ entirely in

their character—some are bold rocks rising perpendicularly from the water

with rugged peaks and fantastic outlines, and attaining an elevation of

two or three hundred feet; others, far more dangerous, are long flat

islets, rising only two or three feet above the sea, and imperceptible on

a dark night at a distance of fifty yards. Still others, again, most

dangerous of all, have not yet attained the dignity even of islets,

although millions of little insects work night and day to bring them up to

the surface. These are the coral-reefs, which, rising from a depth of many

fathoms to within a few feet of the surface, form so many pitfalls to the

unsuspecting mariner. The General Havelock was running along the coast

with a favourable breeze, and we had been all the morning watching the low

shore, with its stunted bushes and the strangely-conical hills which rise

from it, bearing a fantastic resemblance to haycocks, and barns, and

saddles, and with a mighty range of mountains in the distance. These

mountains had a strange interest to us, for among and over them we have to

go. They were our first sight of Abyssinia, and were by no means

encouraging as a beginning. In this way we spent the morning, and after

lunch were about to resume doing nothing, when we were startled by hearing

the man who was standing in the chains heaving the lead, shout out, “Five

fathoms!” His call two minutes before had been ten fathoms. The captain

shouted “Stop her!” “Turn her astern!” and the chief engineer leapt below

to see the order carried out. In the momentary pause of the beat of the

screw, the leadman’s voice called out “Two fathoms!” The screw was

reversed, and a rush of yellow foaming water past the side of the ship

told us at once that it was at work, and that the sandy bottom was close

to her keel. Very gradually we stopped, and were congratulating ourselves

on the near shave we had had, when, looking over her side, we saw that,

vigorously as the screw was working astern, the ship remained just where

she was. The General Havelock was palpably ashore. At first we were

disposed to make light of the affair, for, grounding as she did

imperceptibly, we imagined that she would get off with little difficulty.

Accordingly we first worked ahead, then astern, but with an equal absence

of result. The head and stern both swung round, but she was fast

amidships, and only moved as on a pivot. The troops were now ordered on

deck, and were massed, first aft and then forward; but the General

Havelock gave no sign. Then it was resolved to roll her, the men running

in a body from side to side. Then we tried to jump her off. The whole of

the Europeans and sepoys were set to jump in time—first on one side, and

then on the other. A funnier sight, eighty men, black and white, leaping

up and down, and then going from side to side, could not be conceived.

Everyone laughed except those who swore when their naked feet were jumped

upon by the thick ammunition-boots of some English soldier. Presently the

laughter abated, for everyone was getting too hot even to laugh. The scene

was strangest at this time, and reminded me, with the leaping figures, the

swarthy skins, and the long hair, more of a New Zealand war-dance than

anything I had ever seen. Hours passed in experiments of this sort, but

still the General Havelock remained immovable, only when the sun went down

and the wind rose she rolled almost as heavily as if afloat, and lifted on

the waves and fell into her bed with a heavy bump which was very

unpleasant. Boats were now lowered and soundings taken, and it was found

that the water was deeper on nearly every side than at the exact spot upon

which we had struck. Hawsers were got out and the men set to work at the

capstan; but the anchors only drew home through the sandy bottom, and

brought up branches of white coral. Part of the crew were all this time

occupied in shifting the cargo. But in spite of every effort the ship

remained perfectly fast. It was evident that she would not move until a

portion at least of her cargo was removed from her. While we were debating

how this was to be done, for the shore on either side was a good mile

distant, the wind fresh, and the boats small, an Arab dhow, which we had

observed running down, anchored about a hundred yards off. The Sheik came

on board, and after immense talk agreed to come alongside for three or

four hours to take a portion of the cargo and the troops on board, and so

to lighten our ship. When the bargain was closed, and the sum to be paid

agreed upon, he discovered that there was not water enough for his boat to

float alongside. The negotiations thus came to an end, and the Sheik

returned to his own craft. Soon after another and larger dhow came up and

anchored at a short distance. We sent off to see if he could help us, but

it seemed that he had no less than seventy-two camels on board bound for

Annesley Bay. How the poor brutes could have been stowed in a boat which

did not look large enough to hold twenty at the very most, I cannot

imagine, and they had come in that state all the way from Aden. About an

hour after we had got ashore, a large steamer, which we knew by her number

to be the Salsette, with a ship in tow, had passed at a distance of about

three miles, and to her we signalled for assistance. She, however, passed

on, and anchored with her consort under the lee of an island, and about

six miles off. We had given up all hopes of aid from her, and had begun as

a last resource to throw our coal overboard, when at nine o’clock in the

evening we saw a boat approaching with a lug-sail. When she came alongside

she turned out to belong to the Salsette, which had most fortunately

orders to anchor at the spot where we had seen her. We found, on

conversation with the officer who had come on board, that, loaded with

troops as she was, it would not be safe for her to come within towing

distance of us, and therefore that she must leave us to our fate,

especially as we did not appear to be in any immediate danger. They kindly

offered, however, to take my fellow-correspondent and myself on board, an

offer which we gratefully accepted, as it was quite possible that we might

not be off for another week. When we arrived on board the Salsette we were

received with the greatest kindness, and before starting in the morning

had the satisfaction of seeing the signal flying from the Havelock of “We

are afloat.”

Relieved from all anxiety on account of our late shipmates, our servants,

and our luggage, we enjoyed the run to Annesley Bay exceedingly. It is an

immense bay, and, indeed, a finer harbour, once in, could hardly be

imagined. The entrance, however, is intricate and dangerous. Long shoals

extend for miles near its mouth, and there are several islands within the

bay itself. All eyes, or rather all telescopes, were directed towards the

spot which was to be our destination. My glass, one by Salomans, is a

wonderful instrument for its size, and is indeed far better than any I

have tried it against since I left England. My first impressions of our

landing-place are, I confess, anything but pleasing. A mist hangs over the

land, which excludes a view of the hills, or, indeed, of anything except

the foreshore. This is a dead flat, covered with low bushes. The town

consists of about fifty tents and marbuees, a large skeleton of a wooden

storehouse, piles of hay and grain-bags, hundreds of baggage-animals, with

a throng of natives wandering about. There is but one pier, and this is

still in course of construction. In the harbour are anchored a dozen or so

of transports and a few native dhows. Some of these dhows are occupied in

transporting forage and stores from the ships to shore; and as they cannot

themselves approach within a distance of a couple of hundred yards of the

shore, long lines of natives transport the goods upon their heads to land.

One ship is unloading mules; this she accomplishes by lowering them on to

a raft, upon which they are towed with ropes to within a short distance of

the shore, when the horses are pushed or persuaded to alight and walk. The

Havelock came in just before sunset, about two hours after ourselves. I

have not yet been ashore. The Beloochees, who arrived yesterday in the

Asia and the Peckforten Castle, are landing to-day.

‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐

Annesley Bay, December 6th.

I had not intended to write again until the time of the departure of the

next mail, as my last letter went off only yesterday morning; but two

companies of the 33d regiment are to land this afternoon and to start at

midnight, and as this is the first body of European troops who have

landed, I think it as well to accompany them to Senafe, sixty miles

distant, where Colonels Merewether and Phayre have gone up with the

pioneer force. They will not advance beyond this point for some time, and

I shall therefore, when I have seen the passes, return, after a few days’

stay there, to this place, which is at present the main point of interest.

I should not move from it, indeed, were it not that there is some doubt

whether the King of Tigré will permit us to pass. He is at present

stationed near the head of the pass with a body of 7000 men, but I fancy

his only object in this is to make us buy his friendship at as high a rate

as possible. If he really means mischief it will be a very serious matter

indeed; for, although we should of course scatter his forces easily

enough, it would give us such an enormous line of march to be guarded that

it would be impossible to move a step until we had completely subdued

Tigré. I sincerely hope that this will not be the case. But another week

or two will show; and in the mean time, as I shall have plenty of

opportunities of writing on the subject, I must return to my present

topic, which is the state of things at the landing-place here. It is not,

as I said in my last, a cheerful place to look at from on board ship, but

it is very far worse on landing. The pier is nearly finished, and is a

very creditable piece of work indeed. It is of stone, and about 300 yards

long, and is wide enough for a double line of rails. One line is already

laid down, and saves an immensity of labour; for the goods are landed from

the native boats, which bring them from the ship’s side, are put on to the

trucks, and are run straight into the commissariat yard, which is fifty

yards only from the end of the pier. Before this pier was finished

everything had to be carried on shore upon the heads of the natives; and

as a boat cannot approach within 300 yards of shore, owing to the shallow

water, it may be imagined how slowly the work of debarcation went on. The

pier is ridiculously insufficient for the purpose. Even now the ships are

lying in the harbour for days, waiting for means of landing their goods,

although lines of natives still supplement the pier, and pass bales of

goods through the water on their heads. When the whole expedition is here

there will be a complete dead-lock, unless a very great increase of

landing accommodation is afforded. The commissariat yard is piled with

enormous quantities of pressed hay, Indian and English, grain, rice, &c.

They are well arranged, and in such weather as we have at present there is

no fear of their taking damage from being exposed to the air, especially

as the precaution has been taken to have trusses of pressed hay laid down

as a foundation for the piles of grain-bags. The commissariat yard is

distinguished by the fact that here only do we see women—bright-coloured,

picturesquely-clad creatures, a hundred of whom have been sent across from

India to serve as grinders of corn. Beside the commissariat tents are a

few others belonging to the other departments, and these, with a large

unfinished wooden storehouse, at which a dozen Chinese carpenters are at

work, constitute the camp at the landing-place. But this is only a small

portion of the whole, the main camp being a mile and a half inland; and,

indeed, there are half-a-dozen small camps, a cluster of tents scattered

within the circle of a mile.

The reason why the main camp was fixed at such an inconvenient distance

from the landing-place was, that water was at first obtainable from wells

sunk there. But this supply has ceased some time, and it would be better

to concentrate the offices of the departments near the landing-place, and

that every soul whose presence down here is not an absolute necessity

should be sent up to Koomaylo, which is fourteen miles inland, and which

is the first place at which water can be obtained. As it is, all living

things, man and beast, have to depend for their supply of water upon the

ships. Every steamer in harbour is at work night and day condensing water,

the average expense being twopence-halfpenny a gallon for the coal only.

The result is of course an enormous expense to the public, and very great

suffering among the animals.

Leaving the camp, I proceeded to the watering-place, and here my senses of

sight and smell were offended as they have not been since the days of the

Crimea. Dead mules and camels and oxen lay everywhere upon the shore, and

within a short distance of it. Here and there were heaps of ashes and

charred bones, where an attempt had been made to burn the carcasses.

Others, more lately dead, were surrounded by vultures, who, gorged with

flesh, hardly made an effort to rise as we approached. One ox had fallen

only a few minutes before we reached it, and several vultures were already

eying it, walking round at a respectful distance, and evidently not quite

assured that the animal was dead. Here and there half-starved mules

wandered about, their heads down, their ears drooping, and their eyes

glazing with approaching death. Some would stagger down to the sea-side,

and taste again and again the salt water; many of them, half-maddened by

thirst, would drink copiously, and either drop dead where they stood, or

crawl away to die in the low scrub.

More miserable still was the appearance of the camels. Several native

boats were unloading them at a distance of two or three hundred yards from

shore. The water was not more than three or four feet deep; but when the

poor beasts were turned into it most of them lay down, with only their

heads above water, and positively refused to make an effort to walk to

land. Some never were able to make the effort, and their bodies drifted

here and there in the smooth water. Some of the camels had got within

fifty yards of shore, and then had lain down, looking, with their short

bodies and long necks, like gigantic water-fowl. Those who had been driven

ashore were in little better plight. Their bones seemed on the very point

of starting through their skin, and they lay as if dead upon the sand,

uttering feebly the almost human moaning and complainings peculiar to the

camel. Others had recovered a little. These were endeavouring to browse

the scanty leaves on the bushes around. Some of these camels have been

twenty days on the voyage, and during this time have been crowded together

like sheep in a pen, with next to nothing either to eat or drink during

the whole time. The wonder is that any of them survived it. Government

suffers no loss by the death of these unfortunates, as a contractor agreed

to deliver them here in a fair condition, and only those who survive the

voyage, and recover something of their former strength, are accepted and

paid for. At least, this is one version of the story. The other is, that

they are consigned to the Land Transport Corps. That body, however,

receive no intimation of their coming, and boatload after boatload of

camels arrive, and wander away from the beach to die for want of the water

within their reach. At a mile from the landing-place the scene is painful

in the extreme. Camels and mules wander about in hundreds without masters,

without anything. Here they strive for a few days’ existence by plucking

scanty shoots; here they sicken and die. The scenes were frightful

everywhere, but were worst of all at the watering-troughs. These were

miserably-contrived things. Only ten or a dozen animals could approach at

once; they were so unevenly placed, that when one end was full to

overflowing there was not an inch of water at the other; and beside this,

at a time when water was worth its weight in gold, they leaked badly. They

were only supplied with water for an hour or so in the morning, and for a

similar time in the evening; and in consequence the scene was painful in

the extreme. There was a guard to preserve order, but order could not have

been kept by ten times as many men. There were hundreds of transport

animals, with one driver to each five or six of them. What could one

driver do with six half-mad animals? They struggled, they bit, they

kicked, they fought like wild-beasts for a drink of the precious water for

which they were dying. Besides these led animals were numerous stragglers,

which, having broken their head-ropes, had gone out into the plain to seek

a living on their own account. For these there was no water; they had no

requisition pinned to their ears, and as they failed thus scandalously to

comply with the regulations laid down by the authorities, the authorities

determined that they should have no water. They were beaten off. Most of

them, after a repulse or two, went away with drooping heads to die; but

some fought for their dear lives, cleared a way to the trough with heels

and teeth, and drank despite the blows which were showered upon them. I

inquired of the Land Transport Corps why these scattered mules are not

collected and fed. I am told that nearly the whole of these mule- and

camel-drivers have deserted and gone to Massowah. And so it is. The mules

and camels are dying of thirst and neglect; the advanced brigade cannot be

supplied with food; the harbour is becoming full of transports, because

there are no means of taking the men inland, although there are plenty of

animals; and all this because the land transport men desert. The officers

of that corps work like slaves; they are up early and late, they saddle

mules with their own hands, and yet everything goes wrong. Why is all

this? One reason undoubtedly is, that the animals have been sent on before

the men. A few officers and a comparatively small body of native followers

are sent out, and to them arrive thousands of bullocks, thousands of

mules, thousands of camels. The Arab followers, appalled by the amount of

work accumulating upon them, desert to a man, the officers are left

helpless. Had a fair number of officers and followers been sent on to

receive the animals as they came, all might have gone well. It was simply

a miscalculation. And so it is, I regret to say, in some other

departments. You apply for a tent, and are told there are no bell-tents

whatever arrived. You ask for a pack-saddle, and are told by the

quartermaster-general that there is not a single pack-saddle in hand, and

that hundreds of mules are standing idle for want of them. You ask for

rations, and are informed that only native rations have yet arrived, and

that no rations for Europeans have been sent, with the exception of the

sixty days’ provisions the 33d regiment have brought with them. Why is

this? There are scores of transports lying in Bombay harbour doing

nothing. Why, in the name of common sense, are they not sent on? The

nation is paying a very fair sum for them, and there they lie, while the

departments are pottering with their petty jealousies and their petty

squabbles.

The fact is, we want a head here. Colonels Merewether and Phayre have gone

five days’ march away, taking with them all the available transport.

Brigadier-General Collings only arrived yesterday, and of course has not

as yet been able to set things in order. I am happy to say that General

Staveley arrived last night, and I believe that he will soon bring some

order into this chaos. The fact is, that in our army we leave the most

important branch of the service to shift for itself. Unless the Land

Transport Train is able to perform its duty, nothing can possibly go

right; but the Land Transport Corps has no authority and no power. It is

nobody’s child. The commissariat owns it not, the quartermaster and

adjutant-general know nothing whatever of it. It may shift for itself. All

the _lâches_ of all the departments are thrown upon its shoulders, and the

captains who are doing the work may slave night and day; but unaided and

unassisted they can do nothing. The land transport should be a mere

subordinate branch of the commissariat; that department should be bound to

supply food at any required point. Now, all they have to do is to join the

other departments in drawing indents for conveyance upon the unhappy land

transport, and then sitting down and thanking their gods that they have

done everything which could be expected of them. General Staveley is an

energetic officer, and will, I believe, lose no time in putting things

straight. Even to-day things look more hopeful, for General Collings

yesterday afternoon put the services of 200 Madras dhoolie-bearers at the

disposition of the Transport Corps to supply the place of the mule- and

camel-drivers who have deserted. I have therefore every hope that in

another week I shall have a very different story to tell. In addition,

however, to the mortality caused by the voyage, by hardships, and by bad

food and insufficient water, there is a great mortality among the horses

and mules from an epidemic disease which bears a strong resemblance to the

cattle-plague. Ten or twelve of the mules die a day from it, and the 3d

Native Cavalry lost ninety horses from it while they were here. The

district is famous, or rather infamous, for this epidemic; and the tribes

from inland, when they come down into the plain, always leave their horses

on the plateau, and come down on foot. The Soumalis and other native

tribes along this shore are a quarrelsome lot, and fights are constantly

occurring among the native workmen, who inflict serious, and sometimes

fatal, injuries upon each other with short, heavy clubs resembling

Australian waddies. The washing, at least such washing as is done, is sent

up to Koomaylo. Yesterday two dhoolies, or washermen, were bringing a

quantity of clothes down to the camp, when they were set upon by some

natives, who killed one and knocked the other about terribly, and then

went off with the clothes.

Some of the ships have brought down the horses in magnificent condition.

The Yorick, which has carried the horses of the officers of the 33d, is a

model of what a horse-ship should be. The animals are ranged in stalls

along the whole length of her main-deck, and the width is so great that

there is room for a wide passage on either side of the mast. These

passages were laid down with cocoa-nut matting, and the animals were taken

out every day—except once when the vessel rolled too much—and walked round

and round for exercise. In consequence they arrived in just as good

condition as they were in upon the day of starting. While I am writing,

the Great Victoria is signalled as in sight. This vessel contains, it is

said, the Snider rifles, the warm clothing, the tents, and many other

important necessaries. Her arrival, therefore, will greatly smooth

difficulties and enable the troops to advance.

At the time that the above letter was written I had only been a few hours

upon shore, and was of course unable to look deeper than the mere surface.

I could therefore only assign the most apparent reason for the complete

break-down of the transport train. The disaster has now become historical,

and rivalled, if it did not surpass, that of the worst days of the Crimea;

and as for a time it paralysed the expedition, and exercised throughout a

most disastrous influence, it is as well, before we proceed up the

country, that we should examine thoroughly into its causes.

After a searching inquiry into all that had taken place prior to my

arrival, I do not hesitate to ascribe the break-down of the transport

train to four causes, and in this opinion I may say that I am thoroughly

borne out by ninety-nine out of every hundred officers who were there. The

first cause was the inherent weakness of the organisation of the transport

train, the ridiculous paucity of officers, both commissioned and

noncommissioned, the want of experienced drivers, and the ignorance of

everyone as to the working of a mule-train. The second cause was the

mismanagement of the Bombay authorities in sending animals in one ship,

drivers in another, and equipments scattered throughout a whole fleet of

transports, instead of sending each shipload of animals complete with

their complement of drivers and equipments, as was done by the Bengal

authorities. The third cause was the grossly-overcoloured reports of the

officers of the pioneer force as to the state of water and forage, and

which induced the Bombay authorities to hurry forward men and animals, to

find only a bare and waterless desert. The fourth reason was the conduct

of the above-mentioned officers in marching with all the troops to Senafe,

in direct disobedience of the orders they had received. This last cause

was the most fatal of all. In spite of the first three causes all might,

and I believe would, have gone tolerably well, had it not been for the

fourth.

At Koomaylo and at Hadoda, each thirteen miles distant from Zulla, there

was water in abundance, together with bushes and browsing-ground for the

camels. Had the animals upon landing been taken at once to these places,

and there allowed to remain until the time approached for a general

forward movement of the whole army, as Sir Robert Napier had directed,

everything would have gone well. The officers would have had plenty of

time to have effected a thorough and perfect organisation; the men would

have learnt their new duties, and would have acquired some sort of

discipline; the camels could have gone to Zulla and brought out forage for

the mules; not an animal need have remained at Zulla, not one have

suffered from thirst; and the immense expense of condensing water for them

would have been avoided, besides the saving of life of many thousands of

animals. But what happened? As I have shown in the previous chapter,

General Napier had said to Colonel Merewether, in his parting

instructions, “It is not at all intended that this force shall take up a

position upon the high land, for which its strength and composition are

not fitted;” and again, he had written at the end of October, “that if the

news were satisfactory, Staveley’s Brigade would sail, and _upon its

arrival_ the advance may be made.” To Colonel Phayre he had written

October 9th: “It is not of course intended that Colonel Field should move

to the high table-land at Dexan, &c., but shall merely take up such

position as will cover the dépôt and protect the cattle;” and again, in

the same letter: “You will understand that it is not my desire to

precipitate a lodgment upon the table-land, which we should have to retain

too long before advancing.” General Napier, then, had been as explicit as

it was possible for a man to be in his orders that no advance should take

place; and he had specially said, in his memorandum of 7th September, the

subject of the transport train, that “great care should be taken to

prevent their being overworked.” And yet, in spite of these orders,

Colonels Merewether and Phayre, together with Colonel Wilkins,—to whom the

making of piers, &c., had been specially assigned by the General in his

instructions to the pioneer force,—with Colonel Field and the whole of the

troops, start up to Senafe on or about the 1st of December! And this at a

time when two or three large transports might be expected to arrive daily!

The consequences which might have been expected ensued. The unfortunate

animals, the instant they arrived, were saddled, loaded, and hurried off

without a day to recover from the fatigue of the voyage. The muleteers

were in like way despatched, without a single hour to acquire a notion of

their duties.

Senafe is five days’ march from Zulla, up a ravine of almost unparalleled

difficulty.

Up and down this ravine the wretched animals stumbled and toiled, starving

when in the pass, and dying of thirst during their brief pauses at Zulla;

the fortunate ones dying in scores upon the way, and the less happy ones

incurring disease of the lungs, which, after a few painful weeks, brought

them to the welcome grave. And all this to feed Colonels Merewether and

Phayre and the troops at Senafe. _Cui bono?_ No one can answer. No one to

this day has been able to offer the slightest explanation of the

extraordinary course adopted by these officers. If Colonel Merewether had

felt it his duty to go to Senafe in order to enter into political

relations with the chiefs in the neighbourhood, and to arrange for the

purchase of animals and food, a small escort would have enabled him to do

so. Not only was their absence disastrous to the mule-train, but it was

productive of the greatest confusion at Zulla. There no one was left in

command. Astounding as it may appear to every military man, here, at a

port at which an amount of work scarcely, if ever, equalled, had to be got

through, with troops, animals, and stores arriving daily in vast

quantities, there was at the time of my arrival absolutely no “officer

commanding,”—not even a nominal head. Each head of department did his

best; but, like Hal o’ the Wynd, he fought for his own hand. The confusion

which resulted may be imagined but cannot be described. Having thus

briefly adverted to the causes which led to the breakdown of the transport

train, I continue my journal.

‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐

Koomaylo, December 9th.

I mentioned in my letter of two days since, that the news from the front

was, that the King of Tigré, with an army of 7000 men, was inclined to

make himself unpleasant. Our last “shave,” that of yesterday, goes into

the opposite extreme, and tells us that the Kings of Shoa and Lasta have

both sent to Colonel Merewether, and have offered to attack Theodore. The

hostilities and the alliances of the kings of these tribes are, of course,

matters of importance; but as these native potentates seldom know their

own minds for many hours together, and change from a state of friendship

to one of hostility at a moment’s notice, or for a fancied affront, I do

not attach much importance to any of them, with the exception of the King

of Tigré, through whose dominions we have to pass. If he allows us to pass

to and fro without interference, we can do very well without the alliance

of Shoa or of Lasta. We are strong enough to conquer Theodore, even if he

were backed by the three kings named; and now we have got everything

ready, the difference of expense between a war of a few weeks’ duration

and one of twice as many months, will be comparatively trifling. As for

the troops, nothing would cause such disgust as to return without doing

anything, after all the preparations which have been made. I do not think,

however, that it would make much difference in our movements now, even if

the prisoners are given up. Of course, had they been released a year ago,

in consequence of our entreaties or in exchange for our presents, we

should have been contented; but now we must demand something more than a

mere delivery of the prisoners. There is compensation to be made for their

long and painful sufferings, and an attempt at any rate made to obtain

some sort of payment for our enormous expenses. I attach, therefore,

little importance to what is doing at Senafe, but consider the state of

the preparations at the landing-place at Annesley Bay to be the central

point of interest. For the last two days much has been done towards

getting things in order. Pack-saddles in abundance have been landed. Sir

Charles Staveley has disembarked, and is hard at work; and in the Land

Transport Corps, in particular, great things have been done. Captain

Twentyman, who is in command, laid a number of suggestions before the

general, which he at once sanctioned. Fodder was strewed near the

watering-place, and as the starving animals strayed down they were

captured. One hundred and fifty of them were handed over to the Beloochee

regiment, whose men cheerfully volunteered to look after them. Tubs were

obtained from the commissariat to supplement the absurdly-insufficient

troughs at the watering-place, and which were only kept full of water at

certain times of the day. The 200 Madras dhoolie bearers, who have been

transferred to the transport, are doing good work, and there is every hope

that in another week things will be straight, and the wretched stragglers

who at present shock one with their sufferings be again safely hobbled in

line with other animals.

The work which the officers of this corps get through is prodigious.

Captains Twentyman, Warren, and Hodges, and Lieutenant Daniels, are

beginning to forget what a bed is like, for they are at work and about for

more than twenty hours out of the twenty-four. Indeed, I must say that I

never saw a greater devotion to duty than is shown by the officers of the

various departments. The quartermaster’s department, the commissariat, and

others, vie with each other in the energy which they exhibit, and the only

thing to be wished is that there were a little more unanimity in their

efforts. Each works for himself. Whereas if they were only branches of an

_intendance générale_, the heads of the departments might meet each other

and their chief of an evening, each state their wants and their wishes,

concert together as to the work to be performed next day, and then act

with a perfect knowledge of what was to be got through. However, this is a

Utopia which it is vain to sigh for. Probably till the end of time we

shall have separate departments and divided responsibilities; and between

the stools the British soldier will continue to fall, and that very

heavily, to the ground.

On the afternoon of the 7th the first two companies of the 33d regiment

were to land; and this spectacle was particularly interesting, as they

were the first European regiment to land upon the shores of Abyssinia. A

large flat, towed by a steam-barge, came alongside, and the men, with

their kit-bags and beds, embarked on board them. As they did so, the

regimental band struck up, the men and their comrades on board ship

cheering heartily. It was very exciting, and made one’s blood dance in

one’s veins; but to me there is always something saddening in these

spectacles. This is the third “_Partant pour la Syrie_” that I have seen.

I witnessed the Guards parade before Buckingham Palace. I saw them cheer

wildly as the band played and the Queen waved her handkerchief to them;

and six months afterwards I saw them, a shattered relic of a regiment, in

the Crimea. Last year I described a scene in Piacenza, on the eve of the

march of the Italian army into the Quadrilateral. There, too, were

patriotic songs and hearty cheerings, there were high hopes and brave

hearts. A week after I saw them hurled back again from the land they had

invaded, defeated by a foe they almost despised. Fortunately, in the

present case I have no similar catastrophe to anticipate. As far as

fighting goes, her Majesty’s 33d regiment need fear nothing they will meet

in Abyssinia, or, indeed, in any part of the world. It is a regiment of

veterans; it won no slight glory in the Crimea, and a few months later it

was hurried off to aid in crushing the Indian mutiny. In India they have

been ever since, and are as fine and soldierlike a set of men as could be

found in the British army. We were to have landed at two o’clock, but a

few of the little things which always are found to be done at the last

moment delayed us half an hour; and that delay of half an hour completely

changed the whole plans of the day. It had been intended that, after

landing, the men should remain quiet until five o’clock, by which time the

heat of the day would be over; that they should then pack the baggage upon

the camels, which were to start at once with a guard, that the men should

lie down and sleep till midnight, and that they should then march, so as

to arrive at Koomaylo at five o’clock in the morning. All these

arrangements, admirable in their way, were defeated by this little

half-hour’s delay. There was not a breath of wind when we left the ship,

but in the quarter of an hour the passage occupied the sea-breeze rushed

down, and when we reached the pier the waves were already breaking

heavily. Time after time the man-of-war’s boats came to us as we lay

thirty yards off, and took off a load each time; once, too, we drifted so

close to the end of the pier that the men were able to leap off upon the

rough stones. In this way all the troops got off except the baggage-guard.

But by this time the surf had increased so much, that the boats could no

longer get alongside; accordingly the tug had to tow the barge a couple of

hundred yards out, and there to remain until the sea-breeze dropped. In

consequence it was nine in the evening before the baggage got ashore, and

nearly one in the morning before the camels had their loads; and even then

some of the men’s beds had to be left behind. Considering the extreme

lateness of the hour, and the fact that the moon would soon be down, I

thought it best to get a sleep until daylight. Under the shelter of a

friendly tent I lay down upon the sand until five o’clock, and then, after

the slight toilet of a shake to get rid of loose sand, I started.

The road from Annesley Bay to Koomaylo can hardly be termed either

interesting or strongly defined. It at first goes straight across the

sand, and, as the sand is trampled everywhere, it is simply impossible to

follow it. We were told that the route lay due west, but that just where

the jungle began there was a sign-post. Compass in hand, we steered west,

and entered the low thorny scrub which constitutes the jungle. No

sign-post. We rode on for a mile, when, looking back at the rising sun, I

saw something like a sign-post in the extreme distance. Riding back to it,

it proved to be the desired guide, and the road from here is by daylight

distinct enough. For the first six miles it runs across a dead-level of

sand, covered with a shrub with very small and very scanty leaves, and

very large and extremely-abundant thorns. Bustards, grouse, deer, and

other game are said to be very abundant here, but we saw none of them. A

sort of large hawk was very numerous, but these were the only birds we

saw. At about six miles from the sea the ground rises abruptly for about

ten feet in height, and this rise ran north and south as far as the eye

could reach. It marked unquestionably the level of the sea at some not

very remote period. From this point the plain continued flat, sandy, and

bushy as before for two miles; but after that a rocky crag rose, rather to

our right, and the sand became interspersed with stones and boulders. Our

path lay round behind the hill, and then we could see, at about four

miles’ distance, a white tent or two, at the mouth of an opening in the

mountain before us. These white tents were the camp at Koomaylo. About

three miles from Koomaylo we came upon a very curious burial-place. It was

in a low flat, close to a gully, and covered a space of perhaps fifty

yards square. The graves were placed very close together, and consisted of

square piles of stones, not thrown together, but built up, about three

feet square and as much high. They were crowned by a rough pyramid of

stones, the top one being generally white. Underneath these stone piles

was a sort of vault. From this point the ground rose more steeply than it

had yet done.

Koomaylo is situated at the mouth of the pass which takes its name from

it. The valley here is about half-a-mile wide. It is rather over thirteen

miles from the sea, and is said to be 415 feet above the sea-level; but it

does not appear to be nearly so high. At any rate, its height does not

make it any cooler; for, hot as it is at Annesley Bay, it is at least as

hot here. The greatest nuisance I have at present met with in Abyssinia

are the flies, which are as numerous and irritating as they are in Egypt.

Fortunately they go to sleep when the sun goes down; and as there are no

mosquitoes to take their place, one is able to sleep in tranquillity. We

found on arriving at Koomaylo that the troops had not been in very long.

They had got scattered in the night, owing to some of the camels breaking

down; had lost their guides, lost each other, and lost the way. Finally,

however, all the troops came in in a body under their officers at about

eight o’clock. The animals were not quite so unanimous in their movements;

for a number of them took quite the wrong road, and went to Hadoda, a

place about six miles from here, to the north, and twelve miles from

Zulla. There are wells there, so they got a drink, and came on in the

course of the day. A few, however, have not yet turned up, and one of

these missing animals bore a portion of my own luggage and stores. The

others will perhaps arrive; but I have a moral conviction that that animal

will never again make his appearance. As the men were too tired upon their

arrival to pitch their tents, many of which indeed had not yet arrived,

they were allowed to take possession of a number of tents which had been

pitched for head-quarters. When we arrived they were all shaken down; the

men were asleep in the tents, and the camels had gone down to water. The

first step was to go down to water our horses and mules, the next to draw

rations for ourselves, our followers, and beasts. The watering-place is a

quarter of a mile from this camp, which is on rather rising ground. The

wells are, of course, in the bed of what in the rainy season must be a

mighty torrent fifty yards wide.

I have seen many singular scenes, but I do not know that I ever saw a

stranger one than these wells presented. They are six in number, are

twelve or fourteen feet across, and about twelve feet deep. They are dug

through the mass of stones and boulders which forms the bed of the stream,

and three of the six have a sort of wooden platform, upon which men stand

to lower the buckets to the water by ropes. The other wells have sloping

sides, and upon them stand sets of natives, who pass buckets from hand to

hand, and empty them into earth troughs, or rather mud basins, from which

the animals drink. The natives while so engaged keep up the perpetual

chant without which they seem to be unable to do any work. The words of

this chant vary infinitely, and they consist almost always of two words of

four or five syllables in all; which are repeated by the next set of men,

with the variation of one of the syllables, and in a tone two notes lower

than that used by the first set. Round these wells are congregated a vast

crowd of animals—flocks of goats and small sheep, hundreds in number,

strings of draught-bullocks, mules, ponies, horses, and camels, hundreds

of natives, with their scanty attire, their spears, their swords exactly

resembling reaping-hooks, and their heavy clubs. Here are their wives and

sisters, some of them in the ordinary draped calico, others very

picturesquely attired in leathern petticoats, and a body-dress of a sort

of sheet of leather, going over one shoulder and under the other arm,

covering the bust, and very prettily ornamented with stars and other

devices, formed of white shells. Round their necks they wear necklaces of

red seeds and shells. Some of them are really very good-looking, with

remarkably intelligent faces. The scene round the wells is very exciting,

for the animals press forward most eagerly, and their attendants have the

greatest difficulty in preserving order, especially among the mules and

camels. The supply, however, is equal to the demand, and by the end of the

day the wells are nearly deserted, except by the soldiers, who like to go

down and draw their water fresh from the wells. The upper wells, where

buckets with ropes only are used, are really very fair water; those for

the animals are not clear, but are still drinkable. All have a taste

somewhat resembling the water from peat-bogs. Natives are employed digging

more wells, which can be done, for the quantity which is drawn appears to

make little or no difference in the level of the water in the present

wells. Some of the camels occasionally get quite furious; to-day I saw

one, whose saddle had slipped round under its belly, begin to jump and

plunge most wildly, with its head in the air, and uttering the most

uncouth cries. There was a general stampede, especially among the mules,

many of whom have, I fancy, never seen a camel before. It was some minutes

before the animal could be caught and forced down upon its knees by its

driver, and by that time he had quite cleared the ground in his

neighbourhood. The camels are kept as much as possible kneeling, and there

were a hundred or two near him at the time he commenced his evolutions.

When one camel rises, all in his neighbourhood always endeavour to do the

same; and the efforts of these beasts to rise, the shouts of their

drivers, and the stampede of the mules, made up a most laughable scene.

Near the wells is another large graveyard; the tombs here are rather more

ornate than those I have already described, some of them being round, and

almost all having courses of white quartz stones. Upon the top of many of

these tombs are two or three flat stones, placed on end, and somewhat

resembling small head- and foot-stones. As there is no inscription upon

them it would be curious to find out the object with which the natives

erect them.

Having finished watering our horses, we proceeded to the commissariat

tent. Here an immense quantity of work is got through, all the animals and

men drawing their rations daily; and I have heard no complaint of any

sort, except that some Parsees, while I was getting my rations, came up

and complained bitterly because there was no mutton, and it was contrary

to their religion to eat beef. The commissariat officer regretted the

circumstance, but pointed out that at present no sheep had been landed,

and that the little things of the country are mere skin and bone, and

quite unfitted for the troops. The Parsees, who were, I believe, clerks to

one of the departments, went off highly discontented. The moral of this

evidently is that Parsees should not go to war in a country where mutton

is scarce. As for the Hindoos, I cannot even guess how they will preserve

their caste intact. It is a pity that their priests could not give them a

dispensation to put aside all their caste observances for the time they

may be out of India. As it is, I foresee we shall have very great

difficulty with them.

‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐

Koomaylo, December 12th.

When I wrote two days ago I hardly expected to have dated another letter

from Koomaylo. I had prepared to start for Senafe, leaving my baggage

behind me, and returning in ten days or so. The great objection to this

plan was that neither at Zulla nor here are there any huts or stores where

things can be left. The only thing to be done, therefore, was to leave

them in the tent of some friend; but as he, too, might get the route at

any moment, it would have been, to say the least of it, a very hazardous

proceeding. The night before last, however, I received the joyful and

long-expected news that the ship which had left Bombay with my horses six

days before I started myself was at last in harbour. My course was now

clear; I should go down, get my horses, and then go up to Senafe, carrying

my whole baggage with me. Vessels and troops are arriving every day, and

the accumulations of arrears of work are increasing in even more rapid

proportion. Major Baigrie, the quartermaster-general, is indefatigable,

but he cannot unload thirty large vessels at one little jetty, at whose

extremity there is only a depth of five feet of water. Unless something is

done, and that rapidly, and upon an extensive scale, we shall break down

altogether. It is evident that a jetty, at which at most three of these

country boats can lie alongside to unload, is only sufficient to afford

accommodation for one large ship, and that it would take several days to

discharge her cargo of say one thousand tons, using the greatest despatch

possible. How, then, can it be hoped that the vessels in the harbour,

whose number is increasing at the rate of two or three a-day, are to be

unloaded? In the Crimea great distress was caused because the ships in

Balaclava harbour could not manage to discharge their stores. But

Balaclava harbour offered facilities for unloading which were enormous

compared to this place. There was a wharf a quarter of a mile long, with

deep water alongside, so that goods could be rolled down planks or

gangways to the shore from the vessels. The harbour was land-locked, and

the work of unloading never interrupted. Compare that with the present

state of things. A boat-jetty running out into five-foot water, and only

approachable for half the day owing to the surf, and, as I hear, for

months not approachable at all. It can be mathematically proved that the

quantity of provision and forage which can be landed from these boats,

always alongside for so many hours a-day, would not supply the fifth of

the wants of twenty-five thousand men and as many animals. Everything

depends upon what the state of the interior of the country is. If we find

sufficient forage for the animals and food for the men—which the most

sanguine man does not anticipate—well and good. If not, we must break

down. It is simply out of the question to land the stores with the present

arrangements in Annesley Bay, or with anything like them. The

pier-accommodation must be greatly increased, and must be made practical

in all weather, that is to say, practical all day in ordinary weather. To

do this the pier should be run out another fifty yards, and should then

have a cross-pier erected at its extremity. The native boats could lie

under the lee of this and unload in all weathers, and there would be

sufficient depth of water for the smaller transports to lie alongside on

the outside in calm weather, and to unload direct on to the pier. I know

that this would be an expensive business, that stone has to be brought

from a distance, &c. But it is a necessity, and therefore expense is no

object. I consider that the railway which is to be laid between the

landing-place and this point will be of immense utility to the expedition;

but I believe it to be a work of quite inferior importance in comparison

with this question of increased pier-accommodation. There is no doubt that

in spite of the troops and animals arriving from Bombay before things were

ready for them here, things would have gone on far better than they have

done, had there been any head to direct operations here. But the officers

of the various departments have been working night and day without any

head whatever to give unity and object to their efforts. I understand that

General Staveley was astonished to find that before the arrival of General

Collings, two days previous to himself, there had been no head to the

expedition.

Sir Robert Napier was fully alive to the extreme importance of this

question of wharfage, for in his memorandum of September 12th he

recommended that planking, tressles, piles, and materials to construct

wharves should be forwarded with the 1st Brigade. “There cannot,” he

proceeded, “be too many landing-places to facilitate debarkation, and on

such convenience will depend the boats being quickly cleared, and the

stores removed from them dry. It would be advisable that a considerable

number of empty casks should be forwarded to be used as rafts, or to form

floating-wharves for use at low water, particularly should the shores

shelve gently. Spars to form floating shears should also be forwarded.”

Thus Sir Robert Napier, himself an engineer, had long before foreseen the

extreme importance of providing the greatest possible amount of landing

accommodation; and yet three months after this memorandum was written, and

two months after the arrival of the pioneer force at Zulla, an unfinished

pier was all that had been effected, and Colonel Wilkins, the officer to

whom this most important work had been specially intrusted, was quietly

staying up at Senafe with Colonels Merewether, Phayre, and Field. A second

pier was not completed until the end of February, and consequently many

vessels remained for months in harbour before their cargoes could be

unloaded, at an expense and loss to the public service which can hardly be

over-estimated.

We had quite a small excitement here this afternoon. I was writing

quietly, and thinking what a hot day it was, when I heard a number of the

soldiers running and shouting. I rushed to the door of my tent and saw a

troop of very large monkeys trotting along, pursued by the men, who were

throwing stones at them. Visions of monkey-skins flashed across my mind,

and in a moment, snatching up revolvers and sun-helmets, three or four of

us joined the chase. We knew from the first that it was perfectly

hopeless, for the animals were safe in the hills, which extended for

miles. However, the men scattered over the hills, shouting and laughing,

and so we went on also, and for a couple of hours climbed steadily on,

scratching ourselves terribly with the thorn-bushes which grow

everywhere—and to which an English quickset-hedge is as nothing—and losing

many pounds in weight from the effect of our exertions. Hot as it was, I

think that the climb did us all good. Indeed, the state of the health of

everyone out here is most excellent, and the terrible fevers and all the

nameless horrors with which the army was threatened in its march across

the low ground, turn out to be the effect of the imagination only of the

well-intentioned but mischievous busybodies who have for the last six

months filled the press with their most dismal predictions. I have heard

many a hearty laugh since I have been here at all the evils we were

threatened would assail us in the thirteen miles between Annesley Bay and

this place. We were to die of fever, malaria, sunstroke, tetse-fly,

Guinea-worm, tapeworm, and many other maladies. It is now nearly three

months since the first man landed, and upon this very plain there are at

present thousands of men, including the Beloochee regiment and other

natives, hundreds, taking Europeans only, of officers, staff and

departmental, with the conductors, inspectors, and men of the transport,

commissariat, and other departments. From the day of the first landing to

the present time there has not been one death, or even an illness of any

consequence, among all these men upon this plain of death. As for the two

companies of the 33d, their surgeon tells me that the general state of

their health is better than in India, for that there has not been a single

case of fever or indisposition of any kind in the five days since they

landed, whereas in India there were always a proportion of men in hospital

with slight attacks of fever. All this is most gratifying, and I believe

that all the other dangers and difficulties will, when confronted, prove

to have been equally exaggerated. The difficulties of the pass to the

first plateau, 7000 feet above the sea, have already proved to be

insignificant. There are only four miles of at all difficult ground, and

this has already been greatly obviated by the efforts of the Bombay

Sappers. The December rains have not yet begun, but yesterday and to-day

we have heavy clouds hanging over the tops of the mountains. The rain

would be a very great boon, and would quite alter the whole aspect of the

country. The whole country, indeed, when not trampled upon, is covered

with dry, burnt-up herbage, presenting exactly the colour of the sand, but

which only needs a few hours’ rain to convert it into a green plain of

grass, sufficient for the forage of all the baggage-animals in the camp.

While I have been writing this the Beloochees and a company of Bombay

Sappers and Miners have marched into camp, with their baggage and camels.

The Beloochees are a splendid regiment—tall, active, serviceable-looking

men as ever I saw. Their dress is a dark-green tunic, with scarlet facings

and frogs, trousers of a lighter green, a scarlet cap, with a large black

turban around it; altogether a very picturesque dress. The Sappers and

Miners are in British uniform. Both these corps go on early to-morrow

morning to Upper Sooro. I have not decided yet whether I shall accompany

them, or go on by myself this evening.

A letter has just come down from Colonel Merewether saying that all is

going on well at Senafe. The King of Tigré has sent in his adhesion, and

numbers of petty chiefs came in riding on mules, and followed by

half-a-dozen ragged followers on foot, to make their “salaam.” I do not

know that these petty chiefs, who are subjects of the King of Tigré, are

of much importance one way or another, but their friendship would be

useful if they would bring in a few hundred head of bullocks and a few

flocks of sheep. It is, I understand, very cold up there, and the troops

will have need of all their warm clothing.

‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐

Upper Sooro, December 13th.

I must begin my letter by retracting an opinion I expressed in my last,

namely, that the defile would probably turn out a complete bugbear, as the

fevers, guinea-worm, and tetse flies have done. My acquaintance with most

of the passes of the Alps and Tyrol is of an extensive kind, but I confess

that it in no way prepared me for the passage of an Abyssinian defile. I

can now quite understand travellers warning us that many of these places

were impracticable for a single horseman, much less for an army with its

baggage-animals. Had not Colonel Merewether stated in his report that the

first time he explored the pass he met laden bullocks coming down it, I

should not have conceived it possible that any beast of burden could have

scrambled over the terrible obstacles. Even now, when the Bombay Sappers

have been at work for three weeks upon it, it is the roughest piece of

road I ever saw, and only practicable for a single animal at once. It is

in all twelve miles; at least, so it is said by the engineers, and we

took, working hard, seven hours to do it; and I found that this was a very

fair average time. A single horseman will, of course, do it in a very much

shorter time, because there are miles together where a horse might gallop

without danger. I remained at Koomaylo until the afternoon, as it was too

hot to start till the sun was low. Nothing happened during the day, except

the arrival of the Beloochees and Bombay Engineers. The soldiers had two

or three more chases after the monkeys, of which there are extra ordinary

numbers. I need hardly say that they did not catch any of them: a dog,

however, belonging to one of the soldiers seized one for a moment, but was

attacked with such fury by his companions that it had to leave its hold

and beat a precipitate retreat. I have just been watching a flock or

herd—I do not know which is the correct term—of these animals, two or

three hundred in number, who have passed along the rocks behind my tent,

at perhaps thirty yards’ distance. They have not the slightest fear of

man, and even all the noise and bustle of a camp seem to amuse rather than

alarm them. They are of all sizes, from the full-grown, which are as large

as a large dog, down to tiny things which keep close to their mothers, and

cling round their necks at the least alarm. The old ones make no noise,

but step deliberately from rock to rock, sitting down frequently to

inspect the camp, and indulge in the pleasure of a slight scratch. These

full-sized fellows have extremely long hair over the head and upper part

of the body, but are bare, disagreeably so, towards the caudal extremity.

The small ones scamper along, chattering and screaming; they have no mane

or long hair on the head. The old monkeys, when they do make a sound, bark

just like a large dog. In the afternoon an enormous number of locusts came

down the pass, and afforded amusement and diet to flocks of birds, who

were, I observed, rather epicures in their way, for on picking up many of

the dead bodies of the locusts, I found that in every case it was only the

head and upper part of the thorax which had been eaten. I shall accept

this as a hint; and in case of the starvation days with which this

expedition is threatened—in addition to innumerable other evils—really

coming on, I shall, when we are driven to feed on locusts, eat only the

parts which the birds have pointed out to me as the tit-bits. I am happy

to say that there is no probability of our being driven to that resource

at present; for on our way here yesterday I passed considerable quantities

of native cattle, and any quantity is procurable here, and as for goats

they are innumerable. We bought one this morning for our servants for the

sum of a rupee. The commissariat have made up their minds that all

servants and followers must be Hindoos, and therefore abstainers from

meat, and so issue no meat whatever in their rations—nothing, indeed,

except rice, grain, a little flour, and a little ghee. Now, the fact is

that the followers are generally not Hindoos. Many of the body-servants

are Portuguese, Goa men; and the horse-keepers are frequently Mussulmans,

or come from the north-west provinces, where they are not particular. Even

the mule-drivers are Arabs, Egyptians, and Patans, all of whom eat flesh.

It thus happens that the whole of our five servants are meat-eaters, and

it is fortunate that we are able to buy meat from the natives for them,

especially as they have really hard work to do; and in the cold climate we

shall enter in another day or two meat is doubly necessary.

We had intended to start at three o’clock, but it was four before our

baggage was fairly disposed upon the backs of the four baggage-animals—two

strong mules and two ponies—and we were in the saddles of our

riding-horses. Our route, after leaving the wells, ran, with of course

various turnings and windings, in a south-westerly direction. The way lay

along the bottom of the valley, a road being marked out by the loose

stones being removed to a certain extent, and laid along both sides of the

track. The valley for the first seven or eight miles was very regular, of

a width of from 200 to 300 yards. Its bottom, though really rising

gradually, appeared to the eye a perfect flat of sand, scattered with

boulders and stones, and covered with the thorny jungle I have spoken of

in a previous letter. This scrub had been cleared away along the line of

road, or there would have been very little flesh, to say nothing of

clothes, left upon our bones by the time we came to our journey’s end.

Backward and forward, across the sandy plain, as the spurs of the hills

turned its course, wound the bed of the torrent—I should think that we

crossed it fifty times. It is probable that on occasions of great floods

the whole valley is under water. To our left the hills, though rocky and

steep, sloped somewhat gradually, and were everywhere sprinkled with

bushes. On the right the mountain was much more lofty, and rose in many

places very precipitously. Sometimes the valley widened somewhat, at other

times the mountains closed in, and we seemed to have arrived at the end of

our journey, until on rounding some projecting spur the valley would

appear stretching away at its accustomed width. Altogether, the scenery

reminded me very much of the Tyrol, except that the hills at our side were

not equal in height to those which generally border the valleys there.

At half-past six it had become so dark that we could no longer follow the

track, and the animals were continually stumbling over the loose stones,

and we were obliged to halt for half-an-hour, by which time the moon had

risen over the plain; and although it was some time longer before she was

high enough to look down over the hill-tops into our valley, yet there was

quite light enough for us to pursue our way. In another three-quarters of

an hour we came upon a sight which has not greeted my eyes since I left

England, excepting, of course, in my journey through France—it was running

water. We all knelt down and had a drink, but, curiously enough, although

our animals had been travelling for nearly four hours enveloped in a cloud

of light dust, they one and all refused to drink; indeed, I question if

they had ever seen running water before, and had an idea it was something

uncanny. This place we knew was Lower Sooro, not that there was any

village—indeed, I begin to question the existence of villages in this part

of the world, for I have not yet seen a single native permanent hut, only

bowers constructed of the boughs of trees and bushes. But in Abyssinia it

is not villages which bear names; it is wells. Zulla, and Koomaylo, the

Upper and Lower Sooro, are not villages, but wells. Natives come and go,

and build their bowers, but they do not live there. I fancy that when

there is a native name, and no well, it is a graveyard which gives the

name. We passed two or three of these between Koomaylo and Sooro, all

similar to those I have already described. From Lower to Upper Sooro is a

distance of four miles. It is in this portion of the road that the real

difficulties of the pass are situated, and I never passed through a

succession of such narrow and precipitous gorges as it contains. The sides

of these gorges are in many places perfectly perpendicular, and the

scenery, although not very lofty, is yet wild and grand in the extreme,

and seen, as we saw it, with the bright light and deep shadows thrown by

the full moon, it was one of the most impressive pieces of scenery I ever

saw. The difficulty of the pass consists not in its steepness, for the

rise is little over three hundred feet in a mile, but in the mass of huge

boulders which strew its bottom. Throughout its length, indeed, the path

winds its way in and out and over a chaos of immense stones, which look as

if they had but just fallen from the almost overhanging sides of the

ravine. Some of these masses are as large as a good-sized house, with

barely room between them for a mule to pass with his burden. In many

places, indeed, there was not room at all until the Bombay Sappers, who

are encamped about half-way up the pass, set to work to make it

practicable by blasting away projecting edges, and in some slight way

smoothing the path among the smaller rocks. In some places great dams have

been formed right across the ravine, owing to two or three monster

boulders having blocked the course of the stream, and from the accumulated

rocks which the winter torrents have swept down upon them. Upon these

great obstacles nothing less than an army of sappers could make any

impression, and here the engineers have contented themselves by building a

road up to the top of the dam and down again the other side. We were three

hours making this four-mile passage, and the labour, the shouting, and the

difficulties of the way, must be imagined. Of course we had dismounted,

and had given our horses to their grooms to lead. Constantly the baggage

was shifting, and required a pause and a readjustment. Now our tin pails

would bang with a clash against a rock one side; now our case of

brandy—taken for purely medicinal purposes—would bump against a projection

on the other. Now one of the ponies would stumble, and the other nearly

come upon him; now one of the mules, in quickening his pace to charge a

steep ascent, would nearly pull the one which was following, and attached

to him, off his feet; then there would be a fresh alarm that the ponies’

baggage was coming off. All this was repeated over and over again. There

were shouts in English, Hindostanee, Arabic, and in other and unknown

tongues. Altogether it was the most fatiguing four miles I have ever

passed, and we were all regularly done when we got to the top. I should

say that the water had all this time tossed and fretted between the rocks,

sometimes hidden beneath them for a hundred yards, then crossing and

recrossing our path, or running directly under our feet, until we were

within a few hundred yards of Upper Sooro, when the ravine widening out,

and the bottom being sandy, the stream no longer runs above the surface.

Altogether it was a ride to be long remembered, through that lonely valley

by moonlight in an utterly unknown and somewhat hostile country, as

several attempts at robbery have been made by the natives lately upon

small parties; and although in no case have they attacked a European, yet

everyone rides with his loaded revolver in his holster. A deep silence

seemed to hang over everything, broken only by our own voices, except by

the occasional thrill of a cicada among the bushes, the call of a

night-bird, or by the whining of a jackal, or the hoarse bark of a monkey

on the hills above.

It was just eleven o’clock when we arrived at Upper Sooro. An officer at

once came to the door of his tent, and with that hospitality which is

universal, asked us to come in and sit while our tent was being pitched.

We accepted, and he opened for us a bottle of beer, cool, and in excellent

condition. Imagine our feelings. Brandy-and-water would have been true

hospitality, but beer, where beer is so scarce and so precious as it is

here, was a deed which deserves to be recorded in letters of gold. I

forbear to name our benefactor. The Samaritan’s name has not descended to

us; the widow who bestowed the mite is nameless. Let it be so in the

present case. But I shall never cease to think of that bottle of beer with

gratitude.

My tent was now pitched; my servant procured some hot water and made some

tea; and having taken that and some biscuit, and having seen that the

horses were fed, I slightly undressed, lay down upon my water-proof sheet,

and lighted a final cigar, when to my horror I observed many creeping

things advancing over the sheet towards me. Upon examination they turned

out to be of two species—the one a large red ant, the other a sort of

tick, which I found on inquiring in the morning are camel-ticks. They are

a lead colour, and about the size of sheep-ticks, but they do not run so

fast. This was, indeed, a calamity, but there was nothing to be done. I

was far too tired to get up and have my tent pitched in another place;

besides, another place might have been just as bad. I therefore wrapped

myself as tightly as I could in my rug, in hopes that they would not find

their way in, and so went to sleep. In the morning I rejoiced greatly to

find that I had not been bitten; for they bite horses and men, raising a

bump as big as a man’s fist upon the former, and causing great pain and

swelling to the latter.

I describe thus minutely the events of every day, because the life of most

officers and men greatly resembles my own, and by relating my own

experience I give a far more accurate idea of the sort of life we are

leading in Abyssinia than I could do by any general statements.

Upper Sooro is a large commissariat dépôt, exceedingly well managed by

Conductor Crow. It is a new basin of five hundred yards long by two

hundred across, a widening out of the pass. It is selected for that

reason, as it is the only place along the line near water where a regiment

could encamp. Owing to its elevation above the sea the temperature is very

pleasant, except for two or three hours in the middle of the day. Another

agreeable change is that the thorny bushes have disappeared, and a tree

without prickles, and which attains a considerable size, has taken their

place.

At seven o’clock this morning the Beloochees began to arrive, having

started at midnight. The advanced guard were therefore exactly the same

time doing the distance that we were. Their baggage, however, has been

dropping in all day, for it was loaded on camels, and most of these

animals stuck fast in the narrow passages of the pass, and had to be

unloaded to enable them to get through; and this happened again and again.

The pass, in fact, is not, as yet, practicable for camels; mules can

manage it, but it is a very close fit for them, and it will be some time

yet before camels can pass with their burdens. I suppose after to-day’s

experience camels will not be again employed this side of Koomaylo until

the pass has been widened. Some of the poor animals were stuck fast for a

couple of hours before they could be extricated. There are now a hundred

of them lying down within fifty yards of my tent. I consider the camel to

be the most ridiculously-overpraised animal under the sun. I do not deny

that he has his virtues. He is moderately strong—not very strong for his

size, for he will not carry so much as a couple of good mules; still he is

fairly strong, and he can go a long time without water—a very useful

quality in the desert, or on the sea-shore of Abyssinia. But patient!

Heaven save the mark! He is without exception the most cantankerous animal

under the sun. When he is wanted to stand up, he lies down; when he is

wanted to lie down, he will not do it on any consideration; and once down

he jumps up again the moment his driver’s back is turned. He grumbles, and

growls, and roars at any order he receives, whether to stand up or lie

down; whether to be loaded or to have his packs taken off. When he is once

loaded and in motion he goes on quietly enough; but so does a horse, or a

donkey, or any other animal. After having made himself as disagreeable as

possible, there is small praise to him that he goes on when he cannot help

it. I consider the mule, which people have most wrongfully named

obstinate, to be a superior animal in every respect—except that he wants

his drink—to the much-bepraised camel.

A messenger passed through here yesterday from Abyssinia. He was bringing

letters from Mr. Rassam to Colonel Merewether. He reports that Theodore is

continuing his cruelties, and killing his soldiers in numbers. Under these

circumstances one can hardly feel surprised at the news that, in spite of

his efforts, he is unable to increase his army beyond seven or eight

thousand men. He is still at Debra Tabor.

‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐

Camp, Senafe, December 16th.

I arrived here only half-an-hour since, and find that the post is on the

point of starting. I therefore have only time to write a few lines to

supplement my last letter, which was sent from Sooro. All description of

the pass between that resting-place and Senafe I must postpone to my next

letter, and only write to say that there is no particular news here. The

messenger from Mr. Rassam arrived in the camp yesterday. He states that

the King of Shoa’s men are between Theodore and Magdala, and that there is

every hope that they will take the latter place, and liberate the

prisoners. The reports about the King of Tigré are, to a certain extent,

founded on fact. He has professed the greatest friendship, but there are

sinister reports that he really means mischief, and for two or three days

the pickets have been doubled. It is not thought that there is any

foundation for the report of his intention to attack us. The situation of

this camp is very pleasant—upon a lofty table-land, seven thousand feet

above the sea, and with a delightfully bracing wind blowing over it, and

reminding one of Brighton Downs in the month of May. At night I am told

that the thermometer goes down below freezing-point. The camp is situated

in a slight hollow or valley in the plain; through its centre flows a

stream, which when the camp was first formed was knee-deep, but has

greatly fallen off since, so much so that reservoirs are being formed and

wells sunk in case the supply should cease. Short as the time is before

the post goes, I might have sent you more intelligence were it not that

Colonels Merewether and Phayre are both absent upon some expedition in the

surrounding country, and I am therefore unable to draw any news from any

official source. The health of everyone up here is excellent, and the

horses are suffering less from the disease which has almost decimated them

in the lower ground. There are plenty of cattle brought in for sale, but

unfortunately the authorities have no money to buy them with.

‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐

Senafe, December 19th.

I wrote a few lines, upon my arrival here two days ago; but as the post

was upon the point of starting, I could not do more than state that the

rumours which had reached us down below respecting the King of Tigré were

untrue, and that that monarch was at present pursuing a course of masterly

inactivity. I will now, therefore, resume my letter at the point where my

last regular communication ended—namely, at the station of Sooro, in the

pass leading to this place. I do not apologise for making my description

of this pass very detailed, for at present the whole interest of the

expedition centres in the passage of the troops and baggage from Zulla to

this point, and I feel sure that any particulars which may enable the

public to picture to themselves the country through which our soldiers are

marching will be read with keen interest. From Sooro to Rayray Guddy, the

next regular station, is, according to the official report, twenty-eight

miles; but I am convinced, and in this opinion I am borne out by every

officer I have spoken to, that thirty-three would be much nearer the fact.

Indeed, in every march up here the official distances are a good deal

under the truth. But, indeed, the officers of the exploring force appear

to have seen everything through rose-coloured spectacles. At Zulla they

reported plenty of water, and they found, a short way further, an

abundance of forage, which no one else has been able to discover before or

since. It was on the strength of these reports of forage and water that

the baggage-animals were hurried forward. I am not blaming the officers

who made the reports. They simply acted as it is the nature of explorers

to act. Every father thinks his own child a prodigy. Every discoverer

believes that the country, or river, or lake which he has been the first

to report on, is a country, river, or lake such as no man ever saw before.

Over and over again this has happened, and disastrous consequences have

ere now arisen from the persistent use by explorers of these rose-coloured

spectacles. It is not more than four or five years—to give one example out

of a thousand—since Dr. Livingstone reported that he had discovered a

magnificent navigable river in Eastern Africa, with rice, cotton, and corn

abounding upon its banks, and a climate beyond reproach. In consequence of

this report the “Universities Mission” was organised, and a band of

missionaries, headed by their bishop, Mackenzie, started. After months of

struggle they arrived at the place of disembarkation, having already

discovered that their noble stream was, at a good average time of year,

about three feet deep. There they set up their mission; there, one by one,

these noble fellows died of want and of fever, victims of an explorer’s

rose-coloured spectacles. After that we must not grudge the few hundred

mules that have fallen a sacrifice to the want of springs and forage which

could be seen only through the glasses of the chiefs of the exploring

party.

From Sooro to Rayray Guddy is too far a march to be made in one day along

such a road as there is at present, and accordingly it is generally broken

at a spot called Guinea-fowl Plain, where there is a well yielding a small

supply of water, the colour of pea-soup. We had had quite sufficient of

night-marching previously, and, having passed one day at Sooro, we started

at ten o’clock the following morning. We had intended to have started an

hour earlier; but making a start here is a very different thing from

sending for a cab at an appointed time to catch a train. In the first

place there are the trunks, which have been opened the night before, to

close; there is the tent to strike and pack up. Then at the last moment

you discover that your servants have not washed up the breakfast-things,

and that your mule-wallah has not yet taken his animals to water. At last,

when all is ready, comes the important operation of loading the four

baggage-animals. Each load has to be adjusted with the nicest precision,

or the very first piece of rough ground you arrive at, round goes the

saddle, and your belongings come to the ground with a crash. With our two

mules we have the “Otago saddle,” which is excellent. Indeed, in the

opinion of almost everyone here, it is by far the best of the rival

saddles. Upon these saddles we pack our own baggage, and once fairly

adjusted this is pretty safe for the day. Not so the other animals, for

which we have common mule-saddles. Upon these is piled a multifarious

collection of bundles. Our servants’ five kits, our animals’ rugs and

ropes, our tents, two sacks containing cooking-utensils and numerous

etceteras, and a water-skin for use upon the road. The actual weight that

these animals have to carry is not so great as that borne by the others;

but the trouble of adjusting and fastening on is at least ten times as

great. The loads have frequently to be taken off three or four times, and

then when we think all is right, and get fairly into motion, we have not

gone twenty yards before there is a gradual descending motion observed on

one side of an animal, and a corresponding rise of the opposite burden,

and we are obliged to stop and readjust everything, or in another minute

or two the whole would have toppled over. These things ruffle the temper

somewhat, and our equanimity is not improved by the intense stupidity

which our native servants always manifest upon these occasions. They seem

to have no eye. They heap bundles on the side which was before palpably

the heaviest; they twist cords where cords can be of no earthly use:

altogether they are horribly aggravating. However, by this time I am

getting accustomed to these things, and take matters into my own hands,

and insist on things being done exactly as I direct them. At ten o’clock,

then, we were fairly off, and I do not know that I ever rode through a

more monotonous valley than that between Sooro and Guinea-fowl Plain. It

was the counterpart of that I described in my last letter as extending

between Koomaylo and Lower Sooro. A dead flat of two or three hundred

yards across, with the torrent’s bed winding across it, and spur after

spur of mountain turning it every quarter of a mile. Some of the mountain

views which we saw up the ravines were certainly very fine, but it became

monotonous in the extreme after six hours’ march at the rate of little

over two miles an hour. The vegetation, however, had changed since the

preceding day. The thorny bush no longer covered everything, but a variety

of shrubs now bordered the path, and the diversity of their foliage was a

relief to the eye. Immense quantities of locusts were everywhere met with,

making the ground yellow where they lay, and rising with a rustling noise,

which was very discomposing to the horses at our approach. They did not

eat all the shrubs, but the species upon which they fed were absolutely

covered with them, and most of their favourite plants were stripped

completely bare. Monkeys, or rather baboons, still abounded: we saw

numerous large troops of them, which must have been over a hundred strong.

It was about five o’clock when we reached Guinea-fowl Plain, which may

have guinea-fowls, although we saw none; but which is most certainly not a

plain, for at the place where the well is the valley is narrower than it

had been for miles previously. Here we found some really large trees, and

under them we pitched our tent. It was not long before our servants had

fires lighted and dinner in a forward state. There were two or three other

parties who had arrived before us, and, as it got dusk, all lighted fires;

and, as each party, with their cooking and grooms’ fires, had at least

three bonfires going, it made quite a picturesque scene. The night was raw

and cold, and we had a few drops of rain. It was fortunate that we had

brought water with us for cooking purposes, for the water in the well was

perfectly undrinkable.

The next morning we were again off early for our longest journey, that on

to Rayray Guddy, where food would be procurable for horse and man, neither

one nor the other being obtainable at Guinea-fowl Plain, where there is no

commissariat station. We had carried our own food, and a small portion of

grain for the horses; but they would have fared very badly had we not met

some natives in the pass with a bundle of hay, and done a little barter

with them for rice. The valley for the first twelve or fourteen miles from

Guinea-fowl Plain greatly resembled in its general features that we had

passed the day previously, but the vegetation became more varied and

interesting every mile. We now had great trees of ivy, we had the

evergreen oak, and occasionally gigantic tulip-trees. We had great numbers

of a tree, or rather large shrub, of the name of which I am ignorant; its

leaves more resembled the sprays of the asparagus when it has run far to

seed than any other foliage I know, but the growth of the shrub was more

like a yew. Upon its branches were vast quantities of a parasite

resembling the mistletoe, whose dark-green leaves afforded a fine contrast

to the rather bluish tint of the tree. Climbing everywhere over the trees,

and sometimes almost hiding them, were creepers of various kinds; on the

ground grew vast quantities of the aloe. There were, too, numerous cacti

of various kinds, some thick and bulky, others no thicker than a lady’s

little finger, and growing like a creeper over the trees. But, strangest

of all, upon the hill-sides grew an immense plant, or rather tree, of the

cactus tribe, which I had never seen before. It started by a straight stem

fifteen or twenty feet high, and thicker than a man’s body. This branched

out into a great number of arms, which all grew upwards, and to just the

same height, giving it a strange and formal appearance, exactly resembling

a gigantic cauliflower. I believe its name is _Euphorbia candalabriensis_,

but do not at all vouch for this. Some of the mountain slopes were quite

covered with this strange tree, but as a general thing it grew singly or

in pairs. The tulip-trees were superb; they grew generally in rocky

places, and with their huge twisted trunks, and glossy green leaves, and

limbs more than a hundred feet long, they were studies for a painter.

At about three miles from Rayray Guddy the valley narrowed to a ravine,

and we came upon running water. The pass from here to the station is steep

and difficult, but nothing to that at Sooro. Having drawn our rations, and

received the unwelcome intelligence that there was no hay, and only the

scantiest possible amount of grain for our animals, we established our

camp and went up to look at the land transport division, about a quarter

of a mile higher up the valley. There were four or five hundred mules and

ponies here, in good order, but hardly good condition; in fact, the work

has been hard and forage scant. How hard the work has been, our journey of

the two preceding days had testified. All along the line of march we had

come across the carcasses of dead animals, from which great vultures rose

lazily at our approach. As we approached Rayray Guddy the remains of the

victims occurred much more frequently, and the air was everywhere

impregnated with the fœtid odour. This was only to be expected, as the

poor animals had been obliged to endeavour to accomplish the march of

thirty miles from Sooro without food, and in most cases without water. No

time should be lost in forming a small commissariat dépôt at Guinea-fowl

Plain, where a ration of hay and grain could be served out to the animals

as they pass through. The work these baggage-animals have to go through is

extremely severe, and their half-starved appearance testifies that they

have not sufficient food served out to them, and to expect them to do two

days’ work on their one day’s scanty rations is a little too much even

from mules. We found our friends who had started before us from

Guinea-fowl Plain encamped up there with Captain Mortimer of the transport

train. It was proposed that we should throw in our mess with them. We

accordingly returned to our own encampment, took our meat and rum, our

plates and knives and forks, and marched back again. In an hour dinner was

ready, and in the mean time I was glad of an opportunity of inquiring how

this advanced division of the transport train had got on. I found that

they had, like the one down at Zulla, had the greatest trouble with their

drivers. The officer complained bitterly of the class of men who had been

sent out—Greeks, Italians, Frenchmen, Spaniards, the mere sweepings of

Alexandria, Cairo, Beyrout, and Smyrna. The Hindoo drivers, he said, upon

the whole, worked steadily, and were more reliable than the others, but

were greatly wanting in physical strength. The Persians, on the contrary,

were very strong and powerful men, and could load three mules while a

Hindoo could load one; but they had at first given very great trouble, had

mutinied and threatened to desert in a body, but, upon the application of

the lash to two or three of the ringleaders, things had gone on more

smoothly. The Arab drivers had almost all deserted. Even up here the mules

still suffer from the disease which prevailed down upon the plain, and

which carried off a hundred horses of the 3d Native Cavalry. It is very

sudden in its action, and is in nearly every case fatal. The animals seem

seized with some internal pain, arch their backs, and become rigid. In a

short time the tongue grows black, a discharge takes place from the

nostrils, and in a few hours, sometimes not more than one, from the time

he is attacked, the animal is dead. At present, as with our

cattle-disease, all remedies are ineffectual. Animals in good condition

are more liable to be attacked than are the poorer ones. After dinner we

returned to our tent, where, however, we did not pass a

remarkably-pleasant night. In the first place, it was bitterly cold—the

temperature of Rayray Guddy is indeed colder than it is here; and in the

second, a mule had broken loose from its head-ropes, and came down to our

encampment. Five or six times it nearly upset our tent by tumbling over

the tent-ropes, in addition to which it made our horses so savage by going

up among them, that we were afraid of their breaking loose. Four or five

times, therefore, did we have to get up and go out in the cold to drive

the beast away with stones. The grooms were sleeping at their horses’

heads, but were so wrapped up in their rugs that they heard nothing of it.

The next morning it was so cold that we were really glad to be up and

moving, and were on our way at a little before eight. The first six miles

of the road is narrow and winding, and is as lovely a road as I ever

passed. With the exception only of the narrow pathway, the gorge was one

mass of foliage. In addition to all the plants I have mentioned as

occurring below, we had now the wild fig, the laburnum, various sorts of

acacia, and many others, One plant in particular, I believe a species of

acacia, was in seed; the seed-pods were a reddish-brown, but were very

thin and transparent, and when the sun shone upon them were of the colour

of the clearest carmine. As these shrubs were in great abundance, and

completely covered with seed-pods, their appearance was very brilliant.

Among all these plants fluttered numerous humming-birds of the most lovely

colours. Other birds of larger size and gorgeous plumage perched among the

trees at a short distance from the path. Brilliant butterflies flitted

here and there among the flowers.

At last we came to an end of this charming ride, and prepared for a work

of a very different nature. We turned from the ravine which we had now

followed for sixty miles, and prepared boldly to ascend the hill-side. As

soon as we left the ravine all the semi-tropical vegetation was at an end;

we were climbing a steep hill covered with boulders, between which stunted

pines thrust their gnarled branches and dark foliage. We had gone at one

leap from a tropical ravine to a highland mountain-side. The ascent was, I

should say, at the least a thousand feet, and a worse thousand-feet climb

I never had before and never wish to have again. It is a mere track which

zigzags up among the rocks and trees, and which was made by the 10th

Native Infantry and the Sappers, as the pioneer force rested below and had

breakfast. The men effected marvels considering that it was the work of

two hours only; but it is at best a mere track. Sometimes the mules mount

a place as steep as a flight of stairs; then they have to step over a rock

three feet high. In fact, it is one long struggle up to the top, and in no

place wide enough for two mules to pass. One mule falling puts a stop to a

whole train, and this was exemplified in our case, for we were following a

long line of mules when they suddenly came to a stop. For half-an-hour we

waited patiently, and then, climbing up the rocks and through the trees at

the side of the stationary mules, we finally came to the cause of

detention—one of the mules had fallen. The drivers had taken no efforts to

remove his pack or his saddle, but were sitting by his side quietly

smoking their pipes. After a little strong language we took off his

saddle, got things right, and the train proceeded again. This is the great

want of the transport corps—a strong body of inspectors, as they are

called, volunteers from European regiments. There ought to be one of these

to every ten or fifteen drivers, who, as in the present case, if not

looked after by a European, will shirk work in every possible way. But

this is a subject upon which I shall have much more to say at a future

time. This road or path is really not practicable for the passage of

mules, for, although singly they can go up well enough, if one party going

up were to meet another going down, it is probable that, if no European

came up to make one party or other retrace their steps, they would remain

there until the last animal died of starvation. Three companies of the

Beloochee regiment arrived yesterday at the bottom of the hill, and have

set to work to widen and improve it; and as a party of sappers and miners

have begun to work downwards from the top, the road will soon be made

passable. For this hill-side is not like the pass of Sooro, which would

require an incredible amount of labour to render it a decent road. There

are no natural obstacles here beyond trees to be cut down and stones to be

rolled away; so that by the time the main body of the army arrives I have

no doubt that they will find a fair road up to the plateau.

‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐

Senafe, December 20th.

I closed my letter in great haste yesterday afternoon, for the authorities

suddenly arrived at the conclusion that it was the last day for the

English mail. I was obliged to break off abruptly in my description of the

road, being at the point where we had just arrived upon the plateau.

Looking backwards, we could see peak after peak extending behind us, which

when we had been winding among their bases had looked so high above us,

but which now were little above the level of the spot where we were

standing. A few of the peaks around us might have been a thousand or

fifteen hundred feet higher than the plateau, and we were standing nearly

on the summit of that high range of hills we had seen from the sea. We are

now seven thousand four hundred feet above Zulla, and by my description of

the pass it will be seen that it is no child’s-play to attain this height.

It is not that the ascent is so steep; on the contrary, taking the

distance at seventy miles, the rise is only one in a hundred, an easy

gradient for a railway; but more than half the rise takes place in three

short steep ascents, namely, the Sooro pass, a rise of one thousand five

hundred feet in four miles; the Rayray Guddy pass, a rise of one thousand

feet in three miles; and the last climb on to the plateau, a rise of one

thousand five hundred feet in two miles. Thus four thousand feet, or more

than half the rise, takes place in nine miles, and over the remaining

distance the rise is only one foot in every two hundred. The difficulties

of the journey are the general roughness of the road, the long distances

the animals have to go without water, and the ascent of the Sooro pass,

for there is no doubt that the final rise to the plateau will soon be made

a good road by the exertions of the Beloochees and Sappers. Turning our

horses’ heads we proceeded onward. The change to an open plain and a fresh

wind in place of the long valley and oppressive stillness was charming.

One would have thought oneself on the top of a Welsh hill. The ground was

a black peaty soil, with a short dried-up grass. Here and there were small

patches of cultivated ground, and clumps of rock cropped up everywhere.

Looking forward, we could see that the general character of the ground was

that of a plain; but enormous masses of rock, of seven or eight hundred

feet in height, rose perpendicularly in fantastic shapes sheer up from the

plain. Here and there were ranges of mountains, some of considerable

altitude. Far in the distance we could see hills rising between hills, but

never attaining any great height. Everywhere over the plain were little

groups of cattle and sheep grazing. We were evidently in a

thickly-populated country.

After about two miles’ ride we turned the corner of a slight rise, and

there before us lay the camp. It is prettily situated on the side of a

little valley, and faces the north. The 10th Native Infantry are encamped

on the right wing; the Mountain Train occupy the centre; and the 3d

Cavalry camp lies on the left. Behind the rise a plain stretches away, and

upon this the troops will be encamped as they arrive. The soil of the

valley-side and of the plain beyond is a mere sand, covered with grass and

bushes, but in the hollow of the valley, where the stream runs, or rather

used to run, it is a deep black peat. Wells are now being sunk in this

peat, and these rapidly fill with water. There are still deep pools where

the stream formerly ran, and dams have been formed, which will keep back a

considerable supply of water. The troops are not, therefore, likely to

fall short for some time, and if they should, there is plenty at a stream

two or three miles farther on. The health of the troops is pretty good,

but both officers and men are subject to slight attacks of fever, much

more so than they were when encamped on the plain by the sea. This is

singular, for except that the nights are rather cold, this feels the very

perfection of climate. The horses and mules are doing much better up here,

and although some died at first, it is probable that they had brought the

seeds of the disease with them from the pass below. As it is, the cavalry

have suffered terribly. The 5th Cavalry, out of five hundred horses, have

lost one hundred and seventy, and the officers’ horses of the infantry and

Mountain Train have been nearly exterminated.

Things are very tranquil here. The King of Tigré, after first being

friendly, and then blustering a little, has just at present, influenced

probably by the reports of the increasing force of the expedition,

determined upon the prudent policy of friendship, at any rate until he

sees a better opportunity of plunder than he does at present. Yesterday

afternoon an ambassador arrived from him, saying magnanimously, “Why

should we not be friends? My foes are your foes; my interests your

interests. Take therefore my forage, and my blessing.” Colonel Merewether

is greatly delighted at this message, and sees, through those

rose-coloured spectacles of his, an early end to the expedition. Everyone

else is perfectly indifferent. The King of Tigré’s army of 7000 men could

be scattered like chaff by a battalion of Europeans; and if he ever sees a

chance of falling upon our rear, it is more than probable that his

friendly professions will go for nothing. I do not think that the smallest

reliance can be placed in the friendship of these semi-savage chiefs.

We gave his ambassador a lesson this morning, which will, I have no doubt,

have its effect. It was a brigade field-day, and Colonel Merewether took

the ambassador out to witness it. It is a great pity that the artillery

and the infantry had not a few rounds of blank cartridge, which would have

given his ambassadorship a much more lively idea of what the real thing

would be like, and would have given him such a tale to bear to his king

and master as would have opened his Majesty’s eyes to what the

consequences of a war with us would probably be. But even as it was, it no

doubt had a very salutary effect. The enemy were supposed to be holding a

steep rise at the mouth of a long valley. The infantry threw forward

skirmishers, and the mountain guns took up a position upon a neighbouring

hill, and were supposed to open a heavy fire. Presently the infantry

advanced in line, and made a rush up the steep rise. As they reached the

top they lowered bayonets to the charge, and with a loud cheer rushed upon

the defenders. An instant afterwards the word “Charge!” was given to

cavalry, and away they went down the valley, sweeping the enemy’s supports

and the fugitives from the hill before them for half a mile, and then

scattering in pursuit. It was very well done, and, as I have said, no

doubt had its effect, especially when the ambassador was made to

understand that the force he saw before him was only one-tenth of our

advancing army. The movements of the troops were fairly performed, and did

great credit to their respective commanding-officers. Their remaining

horses are in excellent condition, and are very strong serviceable

animals. Their uniform is a very effective one, light-blue and silver,

with white covers to their forage caps. The infantry, whose uniform is

precisely similar to our own, also wear white cap-covers. Going out to the

parade-ground, which is about two miles distant from here, we passed

several native villages, and a great number of them can be seen scattered

all over the plains. The country, indeed, is very thickly populated; very

much more so than a rural district in England of the same extent. The

people possess goats, sheep, and cattle in abundance, together with

ponies, donkeys, and mules. They are ready to sell all these animals to

us, but demand very high prices, which has been to a certain extent

encouraged by the prices Colonel Merewether has ordered to be paid at the

bazaar for them. Thus, he has fixed the price of a goat at a dollar and a

half, that is six and ninepence, whereas I paid down in the pass only two

shillings for a goat, and could have bought any number at that price. It

is probable, too, that the current price for goats, or indeed for any

animals, is considerably less here than in the valley, for there forage is

extremely scarce, and must be sought at long distances; whereas here it is

abundant, the plains being covered with it. Of course, this price having

been once fixed, the natives will not take less, that is, in specie. They

would take a shilling’s worth of rice for a goat; but of course we have no

rice to give them. It may make but little difference to Colonel Merewether

whether he pays seven shillings or two shillings for a goat; but the

subalterns naturally grumble at having to pay three times the real value

for their food. Not, indeed, that the officers here have to buy much, for

their guns supplement their rations to a very considerable extent.

Guinea-fowls, partridges, ducks, and geese abound, and a large number are

daily shot by the sportsmen of the camp. The ration allowance of one pound

of meat, including bone, a pound of biscuit, two ounces of preserved

vegetables, and a quarter of a pound of rice, is quite insufficient for

one’s wants in a bracing atmosphere like this. The meat issued contains an

enormous proportion of bone, so that there is little if at all more than

half a pound of clear meat in a ration. I am sure that I consume at least

three times my daily allowance of meat.

The natives completely swarm about our camp. The men do not do much, but

loiter about with their swords and spears, and shields made of

elephant-hide. These spears are really formidable weapons. They are from

six to ten feet long, and weighted at both ends, and the natives are able

to throw them with great force and considerable accuracy for a distance of

over thirty yards. These would be ugly weapons in a hand-to-hand fight in

a bush, but as it is, against a disciplined force armed with firearms,

they are simply absurd, and I have seen no offensive weapons—such as bows

or arrows—which could be used with effect against us during the passage of

a defile, in their possession, since my arrival in the country. The women

appear to do all the work. They come into the camp in hundreds laden with

firewood, and keep up a perpetual cry of “Lockaree, lockaree!”—which is

the Hindoostanee for wood, they having picked up that word,—and “Parnè!”

water. Even the children bring their bundles of wood. The women are not

nearly so pretty as some of them I saw down the pass, nor are they so

neatly clad. They are dressed in cotton and leather; but neither are these

so tastefully arranged, or so fancifully ornamented with shells, as were

those I described in a previous letter. They are very thin, many of the

children painfully so, which is surprising when one sees the abundance of

their flocks and herds. The villages, too, are well built. The houses are

low and flat-roofed. They are in many cases built of stone, and some of

them have inner courts, with a sort of veranda formed of boughs to sit

under. They have, like the Arab villages I saw at Alexandria, and which

they strongly resemble, no windows; but as the native’s life is entirely

passed in the open air, I suppose that matters but little. The natives

seem to feel the cold much, and go shivering about in the early morning

and evening in a pitiful way. They bring in honey for sale in pots,

weighing about ten pounds, and for which they charge two dollars. Their

own drink is made of this honey, fermented with the juice of a plant which

grows abundantly upon the plain. The honey, as they bring it into camp, is

very impure, and needs refining before using. The commissariat officer

rode out yesterday to one of the villages, and bought a quantity of

chillies, which will prove a great addition to our fare when they begin to

issue them, for we have had no pepper served out since we landed; and a

course of mutton, unrelieved by condiment of any kind, is apt to pall upon

the stomach.