1884–5--THE SUDAN
Good work of British Officers--A cheery adviser--Arthur
Wynne’s determination--Father Brindle--Life in the Gakdul
Desert--Walkinshaw’s devotion--Fortitude of Mounted
Infantry--Aden camel men--General Dormer’s cheery nature--I am
invalided.
In the middle of August I followed the Egyptian troops up the Nile,
where most of them had been since February, the balance of trained
soldiers being at Suakin. At that place they came under the direct
command of General Freemantle, who wrote to me in the most eulogistic
terms of the work they had done, and on their steadiness on outpost
duty. Colonel Duncan had got excellent work out of those on the
Nile; they had fortified Korosko, Assuan, and Philæ. Here again I
prefer to quote the words of the British officers, who certainly
were not prepossessed in favour of the Fellaheen soldiery. Major
Clarke, an officer sent from India, to act as Director of Railways,
wrote officially: “The amount of work done on the railway by the 4th
Battalion Egyptian Army (Colonel Wynne)[268] is simply prodigious.”
Lord Charles Beresford,[269] who was acting as Director of work on the
Cataracts, wrote: “The way in which the 2nd Battalion (Smith’s)[270]
works the portage, carrying the whalers over the rocks for a thousand
yards, is marvellous.” It was somewhat galling for the British officers
serving in the Egyptian Army to read in the Press that the sailors were
carrying the whalers, for they never had any opportunity of doing so,
and 609 out of 700 were carried by the 2nd Battalion Egyptian Army
round the First Cataract.
Lord Wolseley, nominated to command the Gordon Relief Expedition while
still on the sea, wrote me a very flattering letter asking me to accept
the position of General of the Line of Communications, saying: “It is
a most difficult, arduous, and responsible task, which I hope you will
accept, as I feel sure that you will do it with credit to yourself and
greatly to the advantage of the Service, and there is no doubt that on
the manner in which this duty is performed will depend the success of
the undertaking.”
Long before I received my former Chief’s kind letter he telegraphed
its purport to me, and I, accepting his offer within ten minutes, he
telegraphed again: “Your telegram has relieved my mind of a great
trouble. Can you put some of your men on to the railway?” I replied:
“You can confidently reckon on my cheerfully carrying out any duty
you assign to me.” On receipt of his letter on the 25th September I
telegraphed: “Am taking every precaution to accelerate the transport by
water, paying premiums for quick passages North of Haifa, and South of
that place I have an Egyptian non-commissioned officer travelling in
every native vessel.[271] I have got every man, except a guard of three
per battalion, on railway work or portages.” Lord Wolseley annexed
the horses of the Egyptian Cavalry Regiment, and with reference to
that order I, while expressing the pain it caused our officers, added,
“but you may have the fullest confidence we shall all do our best to
make the expedition a success.” The one great factor of the good work
done was the Arabic-speaking British officers, and their power of
influencing the men.
Lord Wolseley, in appointing me General of the Line of Communications,
reversed the previous decision of the War Minister who replied to my
application for service at Suakin, when Sir Gerald Graham went there
in January 1884, that, being in the Egyptian army, I could not be
employed in command of British troops. As I then pointed out to the
Commander-in-Chief, had I realised these conditions in 1882 I should
never have accepted Lord Granville’s offer of the task of raising an
Egyptian Army.
Early in September I disagreed with a gifted Naval officer who had
charge of the Naval transport on the subject of putting steamers
through the Second Cataract. He declared there was considerable risk
for the steamers, and some for the crew, and demurred to my order that
he should try it. We referred the point to the British General in
Cairo, and to the Admiral, who replied that the officer was to “do his
best to carry out my wishes, bearing in mind that, after stating his
professional opinion, Sir Evelyn Wood was to be wholly responsible for
what might happen to either steamers, officers, or men.” Captain Lord
Charles Beresford[272] was a much more cheery adviser. When I asked:
“Will she go through?” said, “What sort of a hawser?” “Big steel.” “How
many darkies?” “Any number up to six thousand.” “Well, sir, she must
go through, or leave her bottom in it.” The ship with several others
went through the Cataract, in spite of all predictions to the contrary,
but it is fair to observe that both paddle wheels were simultaneously
on the rocks on either side, and when they reached the still waters up
stream of the Cataract there was very little paddle wheel left intact.
Lord Wolseley and the Head Quarter Staff arrived at Haifa on the 5th
October, stayed the greater part of a month, and then preceded me to
Dongola. I worked from daylight to sunset throughout this month passing
supplies, and later troops, up the river, storing 42,000 British
rations at Dongola, before any Europeans went South of Haifa.
As General officer commanding on the Lines of Communication, it was
my privilege to entertain a great number of the stream of officers
who passed through Wadi Haifa. I was riding one evening, before the
Camel battery under Captain Norton left for the Southward, and was so
surprised to observe an officer turn away his head as I passed that I
rode back to ascertain the reason; he had one eye bandaged, and saying
he was suffering from slight ophthalmia, admitted he had turned away
lest I, seeing his state, might prevent his going on with the battery.
I reassured him by saying I was too sympathetic to think of stopping
anyone from going to fight. He was mortally wounded at Abu Klea on the
19th January 1885.
The militant spirit Lieutenant Guthrie showed was amusingly illustrated
later by one of the gunners in the battery. When the square at Abu
Klea was penetrated by the Dervishes, one of them attempted to spear a
gunner who was in the act of ramming home a charge. The Briton brained
the Sudanee, but the rammer head split on the man’s hard skull. Next
day the gunner was sent for; mistaking the reason, and knowing from
experience soldiers are charged for Government property they break, he
led off: “Please, sir, I’m very sorry I broke the rammer, but I never
thought the nigger’s head could be so hard. I’ll pay for the rammer so
as to hear no more of the case.”
Before I left Wadi Haifa for the front Lord Wolseley entrusted to me
for decision, as an Arbitrator, a claim by a contractor for services
rendered, amounting to £42,000. The claimant, a public-spirited man of
business, admitted some rebate should be made, as owing to change of
plans his servants had done less than either party had contemplated,
but suggested about £6000 would be a reasonable sum. I urged the
Principal to come up himself for a personal interview, but he alleged
pressure of work would not allow of his doing so, and he and the
Commander-in-Chief, for the War Office, accepted my award of £29,000.
We had taken many camels off the Supply duties in order to assist
Colonel Wynne’s Egyptian battalion in carrying the frame of the
_Lotus_, a Stern wheeler, which we desired to put together and launch
above the Cataract at Semneh. The beams of steel being very heavy, were
troublesome in transport, for if the two camels on which they were
placed rose at different moments, the girders either slipped backwards
or forwards, occasionally fracturing a camel’s legs. All the riveters
of the “Black Watch” and “Gordon Highlanders” were employed for a month
in putting the _Lotus_ together; she was ready when I passed, and
instructed the Naval officer in charge to proceed.
Half a mile in front was an ugly belt of rocks, which extended, indeed,
for 80 miles south of Wadi Haifa, and from a look in the Naval
officer’s face I turned back and said: “Now, while I should regret the
loss of the steamer, please understand I would prefer she should lie
at the bottom rather than you did not try to get through.” “Yes, I
understand.” “Would you like to have it in writing?” “No, I understand
you accept all responsibility.”
Nevertheless, as I travelled up the Nile, at each successive telegraph
station I received telegrams more and more pessimistic from the
officer commanding the _Lotus_, and eventually he declined the task.
Colonel Wynne,[273] who was the Station Staff-officer on the Line
of Communication, telegraphed at the same time: “I have seen the
Naval officer’s opinion, and while I agree there is danger, request
permission to order the Bluejackets and Voyageurs off the steamer, and
let me take her through hauled by Egyptian soldiers.” This he did; the
_Lotus_ proved to be worth her weight in gold to us in bringing down
stream wounded and sick soldiers.[274]
When I was riding up the Nile the Consul-General in Cairo asked me my
wishes about retaining command of the Egyptian Army, assuming that
reductions then contemplated were carried out; and I replied, on the
10th December, that I wished to remain until Khartoum was taken, but
afterwards not to remain on any terms.
Father Brindle[275] was travelling up in the boats of the Royal Irish,
and I had determined, if it were possible, to overtake him and give him
a Christmas dinner. We crossed to the left bank of the Nile, where the
whalers moored, and were waiting, when the leading boat of the Irish
appeared, the Reverend Father pulling stroke oar. His features were
burnt by the sun, and, like his hands, were covered with blisters, as
he stepped out of the boat stiff with the fatigue of pulling against
the fast-running stream. Said I: “Father, why are you working like
that?” “Oh, to encourage them.” “Any result?” “Very little.” The fact
being, that the ordinary human creature was not endowed with the same
energy and devotion as was my friend. Nevertheless the battalion won
Lord Wolseley’s prize of £100 for the best time, from Wadi Halfa to
Korti, and smallest loss of Supplies.
Father Brindle was doubtless the most popular man in the Expedition.
His own flock naturally loved him, and he was respected by everyone,
from Bugler to Lord Wolseley, who more than once tried to get him
knighted. He had a pony which he never rode, it being used to carry
footsore men in turn. Preaching one day in the desert during Lent, he
said: “Now, my men, I cannot ask you here on Service to abstain, but
you might do something which would be pleasing to the Almighty, and
will gratify me,--abstain from the use of bad language.” Looking into
the upturned faces, he thought from their sympathetic expression he
had effected some good. When the parade was dismissed he stood for a
few minutes speaking to some officers, and ten minutes later, walking
behind two of his recent congregation, who, talking eagerly did not
notice his footsteps on the soft sand, he overheard one say: “Bill,
that was a bloody fine sermon the Father gave us.”
When Lord Wolseley heard at Korti that General Sir Herbert Stewart
was dangerously wounded he sent Sir Redvers Buller across the Bayuda
Desert to replace him, and I became Chief of the Staff, General
Grenfell replacing me on the Line of Communication. A few days later
Lord Wolseley heard that Gordon had been killed at Khartoum; and
the accounts he received from the troops on the Nile at Metemmeh
being unsatisfactory, he despatched me as his Representative, with
instructions, after consulting with Buller, to order a retirement if it
seemed to be necessary.
I started within an hour, although I was in pain, for two days
previously I had sat down in a fold-up chair with my finger between the
joints, crushing the top so that it was in a jelly-like condition. The
arm was in a sling, and it is difficult to get on a camel, which puts
its head back and tries to take a piece out of your leg as you mount,
if you have only one hand. I reached Gakdul, however, on the 18th
February, to find that Sir Redvers and his column were then returning
from Abu Klea.
There was no longer any hope of further offensive operations. Although
2200 camels had crossed the desert on the first journey, the Heavy
Cavalry Regiment had now only 22 riding and 10 baggage camels. The
Light Cavalry Regiment was 100 short, and the transport animals had all
died from overwork.
Buller went on to rejoin Lord Wolseley on the Nile, while I remained
at Gakdul until sunset on the 3rd March, clearing out the sick and
wounded, then ammunition, and last of all stores.[276] We remained
until the whole of the water in the big pools had been exhausted,
and had men 30 feet down in wells, bailing up water in pannikins, to
give the friendly Arabs who were carrying the stores as much time as
possible.
The third day I was in the bivouac, for there were no tents except for
the wounded. I went to a Station Hospital to have my finger dressed,
which was necessary three times a day, as the smell from it was so
unpleasant. The Medical Officer in charge was doubtless as much
overworked as I was, and said shortly: “I tell you what it is, sir, if
you were a soldier I should say, ‘Sit down, my man, and I will pull out
that finger-nail.’” “I am a soldier.” “Yes, but you are a General.”
When he had dressed the finger I went back to my tree and sent for
Doctor Conolly, a friend, and telling him what had passed, asked:
“Please advise me, will this nail ever reunite?” “No, it never can,
as it is crushed down to the root.” “How do you pull it out?” “Slit
the nail down the centre, and then take hold of one half with a pair
of forceps, and pull.” This I did, but when the first half came out I
asked for some stimulant, and then I said: “Now please, I will look
away while you take out the other half.”[277]
The valley in which the wells were situated was shut in. Two of the
regiments, for want of ordinary precautions, let a few Arabs drive off
their slaughter oxen. The work of supervising a retirement is always
depressing, and this, with the anxiety of getting some 2000 men across
a waterless desert of 100 miles, told on my health and temper.
The discipline of some regiments was not satisfactory. Wine had been
taken out to Metemmeh, which was wrong, as the men had no beer or
spirits, and when Colonel Gough[278] and I rode round the bivouac lines
after the troops had moved off to the point of Assembly we found two
corps had left some ball ammunition on the ground. Near at hand were
camels, one carrying mess kit, another wine-cases. We saw the loads
exchanged and the camels started, the wine remaining for the Dervishes.
Perhaps I felt the more angry as I had been there three weeks without
wine or stimulant of any sort, but anyhow my temper was irritable, and
ten minutes later I used offensive, improper language to an officer
who made a stupid mistake in forming up his men on parade. Ashamed of
my bad language, I turned away and saw Father Brindle, with a pained
look in his face. Next day when I was feeling much happier he came up
behind me, and putting his arm on my shoulder, said: “I hope your poor
brain is somewhat rested?” The hope was justified, for I had induced
the camel owners to carry double loads, relieving me of anxiety about
ammunition. I had also heard from Lord Wolseley, who was arranging at
Korti for further operations in the autumn: “When we advance finally
you may count on being one of the Generals to have a command.”
We marched from 5 till 11 p.m. in a hollow square, for there were a few
Arabs about, when we lay down for three hours. It was very hot in the
day, and my baggage camel with blankets not being available, I found
it difficult to sleep from the cold, although probably the temperature
was not really low as it seemed to me, wearing serge weighing only 3
lbs. I was lying with my knees drawn up for the sake of warmth when I
felt a grateful weight on my shoulders, and my first inclination with
the increased warmth was to sleep, but with an effort I sat up and saw
Walkinshaw fifty yards away, walking up and down in his shirt sleeves,
having put his serge over me.
The return to Korti was painful; the men who, intent on saving Gordon,
had marched with elastic step, heads up, and shoulders back, were no
longer the same soldiers. Depressed by the sense of failure, they
straggled, and the bonds of discipline being relaxed, some gave in
while still capable of exertion.
They had, however, been severely tried; roused an hour before dawn,
with the thermometer at that hour always above 60°, they had pulled or
tracked whaleboats for a month 420 miles, against a rapidly flowing
river, under a burning sun, and many were nearly bootless.[279]
The discipline of the Mounted Infantry sections, who acted throughout
as Rear guard, remained perfect. No men fell out on the line of march,
though their camels had been taken from them to carry ammunition.
During a halt, I having remained behind the Column to encourage
stragglers to persevere, strolled round the Rear guard position.
All except the sentries were asleep, and I counted rather more than
two-thirds who were marching without boots, some wearing socks, and
some strips of cloth. The sound principle of Lord Wolseley’s proposal,
vetoed by the Commander-in-Chief in 1873 for the Ashantee Expedition,
was thoroughly shown in this, and in the second Expedition to
Ashantee in 1896, when sections of selected men represented different
battalions. The Regimental feeling was thus strongly evoked, and the
Sections vied with each other in maintaining the reputation of their
Corps. Behind the Mounted Infantry sections, Major French,[280] 19th
Hussars, with about 20 of his men, followed in Rear of all, and was
always alert, bright, and cheerful.
I rejoined Lord Wolseley at Korti on the 14th March, and three days
later was ordered to take two Squadrons of the 19th Hussars and bring
back by force the Aden camel men. They had been enlisted without
sufficient forethought, on a six months’ engagement, which had long
since expired, and the General in command of “the Nile column” had
coaxed them into remaining overtime by promising they should be
discharged on their return to Korti. When they found the promise was
not redeemed, leaving their camels tethered, they marched off in a body
down the river. I ordered the Squadrons to parade at daylight on the
18th, and, accompanied by Lieutenant Wingate, rode after the fugitives,
overtaking most of them before night fell on the 17th March.
I explained the situation, and the impossibility of their reaching Aden
against the will of the Government: next day they returned, and by
offering them enhanced terms they agreed to remain until I could get
some Sudanees to feed and care for the camels.
On New Year’s day, 1885, I had received from the Sheiks of the Korosko
Desert a telegraphic greeting, for which they paid, as they also did
for one which they despatched to Lady Wood in England. On my return
to Korti they sent me another message, and in honour of my being back
safely on the Nile they killed a camel, a peculiar compliment. I heard
afterwards that they were nervous for my safety while I was at Gakdul,
for they had an exaggerated opinion of the power of the Mahdi.
Lord Wolseley and the Headquarters Staff went down stream from Korti on
the 24th March, and having cleared up the camp, I followed next day.
From a mistake in the execution of some orders I was obliged to ride
70 miles in the hot sun, and thus brought on a recurrence of diarrhœa,
from which I had previously suffered from the 23rd of February to the
9th of March, and which clung to me so persistently that I was never
free from pain and inconvenience until I got on board a ship in the
Suez Canal on my way to England. Throughout March the doctors urged me
to go down the river, but anticipating an Autumn campaign, and with the
promise of a command, I evaded compliance till May, when the doctors
became more insistent, and I less capable of resistance.
My health improved at Debbeh, where I commanded about 6400 men, spread
out on the bank of the Nile from Old Dongola to Hamdab. The men were
employed in hutting themselves, and the work was certainly beneficial
in the trying climate. It was generally cool, for the Sudan, from 3
a.m. to 6 a.m., but occasionally even at that hour the thermometer
stood at 77°. From 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. daily, unless there happened to be
a dust storm to add to our discomfort, there was as a rule not a breath
of air, and even lizards and flies clustered under camel saddles to
avoid the sun.
While two soldiers were working together one of them grumbled at the
intensity of the heat, and was rebuked by his comrade, saying, “What is
the use of your grousing? Don’t you know there is only a bit of brown
paper between us and hell?” The grumbler retorted, “And I expect that
bit of paper is scorched.” The Nile, always a rest for our parched
eyes, at the end of March showed half a mile of mud between the banks,
and little more than 100 yards of water opposite to my tent.
The soldiers had been on half rations of groceries for some weeks, and
now we ran out of sugar. Officers scrambled for a 1-lb. tin of cocoa
and milk at six shillings, while invalided officers sent down the river
sold alcohol at thirty shillings a bottle.
The spirits of the troops had recovered from the depressing effect of
the failure to save Gordon, and, in spite of all discomforts, remained
good as a rule, though the difference of feeling in the camps varied
according to the temperament of the general in command. Major-General
the Honourable J. Dormer[281] wrote to me from Tani on the 16th of
April, “Everyone here is cheery and contented, there is no grumbling.”
This, however, was primarily due to his own buoyant spirits. Two Sheiks
rode into the General’s camp with a message from the Mahdi, exhorting
him and his followers to submit, and thus save their bodies in this
world, and their souls in the next, by embracing the Mohammedan faith.
The Sheik talked of the wondrous powers of the Mahdi, and when Dormer
differed with him, said, “Well, can you do the marvellous things the
Mahdi performs, such as praying for rain and ensure its falling?”
Dormer, like all of us, knew that the Mahdi only prayed for rain when
his barometer was falling, and having himself but one eye, he turned
his back to the Sheiks, and taking out his glass eye he threw it up in
the air and caught it, saying, “Can your Mahdi do that?” The Sheiks
turned and ran without another word.
On the 31st March I handed over the command of the Egyptian Army to Sir
Francis Grenfell, who became Sirdar. I had overworked myself for two
and a half years, spending £1600 of my capital, and missed all chance
of joining in the fights near Suakin in 1884. His Highness the Khedive
wrote me some very gracious letters, and sent me the Cordon of the
Medjidie, but he could not forget how Arabi and the Egyptian soldiers
had treated him in 1882, and never trusted the Fellaheen soldiery
again. During my two and a half years’ command he never gave them a
word of praise.
I greatly admired the ability of our Consul-General, Sir Evelyn
Baring,[282] a part of whose work I had shared, and was gratified by
the feeling that my esteem for him was reciprocated by that singularly
undemonstrative Briton.
The Commander-in-Chief, on the motion of the Secretary of State for
the Colonies, was pleased to record his approbation of my efforts in
endeavouring to create an Egyptian Army. The real pleasure to me was
the expression of regard I received from the band of officers who came
under my command in January 1883. As I wrote in my farewell order: “He
believes no body of officers have ever worked with more unremitting
devotion.”
Lord Wolseley’s opinion of our work during the campaign was
favourable.[283]
[Illustration: SUDAN]
I was disappointed when the Gazette for the Nile Expedition came out,
less for myself than for those who had worked so hard while under my
command, and I appealed to Lord Wolseley in their behalf, who replied
on the 27th August, “I could not get my way,--the most notable omission
from the list being yourself.”
In spite of my being temporarily better early in May, Surgeon-General
Lithgow sent me down the Nile on the 6th. As I passed Korosko the
Ababdehs handed me a sword which the Sheiks then in Cairo had left for
me, and a silver-mounted riding stick for Lady Wood, and they came to
see me off the day I left the capital.
Lord Wolseley had expressed astonishment on my declining his offer of
the Frontier command, but on seeing my thin body and haggard face, was
so startled that he tried to send me off to England the day I reached
Cairo. This I earnestly represented was not necessary, as it was
important that I should spend a few days in order to settle matters at
the Egyptian War Office.