EGYPT IN 1882
About the period at which I was promoted to the rank of Lieutenant the
number of ships in commission was so small that there was a great deal
of unemployment in all ranks of the officers of the Navy. For instance,
a freshly promoted lieutenant, unless he intended to specialise in
gunnery (the torpedo lieutenant had not then been invented), had to
wait for the greater part of two years before being appointed to a
ship. Captains frequently had to wait for as much as four years. Quite
apart from the manifest injustice of leaving officers to starve for
years on the most miserable scale of half-pay that ever was devised
by a Government Department, nothing could have been invented more
calculated to injure the Service. For young lieutenants it meant a
long period of inactivity at the average age of from twenty-three to
twenty-four--just the years in which they should have been acquiring
the habit of command, as watch-keepers, and inculcating discipline as
divisional officers; whilst for young captains it may even have been
worse; four years of unemployment ashore at the average age of forty
was as likely a scheme for promoting rust instead of polish, on what is
considered the finished article of the British Navy--namely the Captain
of a man-of-war--as could be devised by mortal man. A certain amount
could be done to mitigate the situation by short courses of gunnery,
and officers were even graciously permitted to study at Greenwich on
half-pay. A good many took advantage of this permission, principally
because, in their necessarily impoverished condition, they found the
mess there the cheapest place to live in. But even when every advantage
was taken in the way of courses of education, there would be still long
intervals of unemployment. Personally, I enjoyed my time on half-pay
very much. I was fortunate enough to have a home to go to where there
was sport of all kinds to amuse me, and I was not at all averse from
being my own master after nearly ten years of a junior officer's life
under the strictest discipline.
In the spring of 1880 Sir Geoffrey Hornby's time was up in the
Mediterranean, and he was succeeded as Commander-in-Chief by Sir
Beauchamp Seymour, who, when a captain, had given me my nomination
for the Navy. At one time he had, I believe, the intention of taking
me as his Flag-Lieutenant; but, unfortunately, the bump of veneration
for those set in authority over me was represented on my head by
a large hollow, and a few expressions of opinion about some of my
superiors that I had either uttered, or was supposed to have uttered,
got round to his ears, with the result that he wrote to my father
and told him that although his original intention had been to take
me as his Flag-Lieutenant, he really could not have a young officer
on his Staff who expressed such very remarkable opinions about his
superior officers. At the time I was not in the least anxious to go
as Flag-Lieutenant. Haul-down promotions had been abolished, so there
really was nothing particular to gain by it except that, of course, it
was what is known in modern days as a "cushy job." But, later on, I had
real cause for regret, as, owing to the Egyptian War, Sir Beauchamp
became a peer, and, what would have concerned me much more, his
Flag-Lieutenant was promoted over some 300 or 400 lieutenants' heads,
including my own. When that moment arrived I consoled myself by winning
a biggish bet from my brother officers, none of whom thought that such
a leap in the way of promotion was possible, I having,--rightly, as it
turned out,--taken the other view.
Curiously enough, I was destined to go on the Staff of a
Commander-in-Chief before Sir Beauchamp Seymour had hoisted his flag;
for, in January 1880, Admiral the Honourable Sir Charles Brydone Elliot
was appointed Commander-in-Chief at Plymouth and offered me the post of
Flag-Lieutenant. Sir Beauchamp, who was still a Lord of the Admiralty,
knew nothing of this offer, and had, in the meantime, appointed me to
a small craft in the East Indies. I went to see him at the Admiralty,
and, before I had time to explain that I wished my appointment
cancelled as I had already written to Sir Charles Elliot accepting his
offer, the dear old gentleman, with a fine sense of irony, proceeded
to congratulate me on my appointment to an old sloop commanded by one
of the most unpopular officers in the Service, and serving on one
of the most unpleasant stations in the Navy,--namely the East Indies
and Persian Gulf. After he had finished his speech, I told him that
I regretted very much that I must ask for a cancellation of such a
charming appointment; but that, as Admiral Sir Charles Elliot had done
me the honour of asking me to serve as his Flag-Lieutenant, and as,
moreover, I had accepted his offer, cancelled it would have to be. My
venerable relative nearly had a fit on the spot, but it had to be done,
and I must say that, though not very long afterwards I was serving in
his Fleet, he never bore me the slightest malice, and was always a
kind and most hospitable friend to me. Both of us being very fond of
Bordeaux, many were the bottles that we drank together after dinners at
the Admiralty House, for Sir Beauchamp belonged to the old school of
men who settled steadily down to their wine after dinner, and looked
upon tobacco as an abomination.
And so, in January 1880, I found myself occupying a shore appointment
at Devonport; for the Commander-in-Chief of a home port lives entirely
on shore, and practically never goes afloat, except for inspections.
To my great joy, there was no room for me in Admiralty House, so I
settled down in lodgings round the corner, and, generally speaking,
after luncheon was practically a free man unless there happened to be
a dinner at Admiralty House. Altogether, it was a very pleasant life.
Being Devonshire born I had plenty of friends and acquaintances, and
it was a most hospitable neighbourhood. Mount Edgcumbe, Anthony, the
charming home of my old friend, General Sir Reginald Pole Carew, and
Port Eliot were all close by just over the Cornish boundary, while on
the Devonshire side, and within easy reach by road, was Saltram, Lord
Morley's fine place, then leased to two very kind friends of mine, Mr.
and Mrs. Hartmann, who were there for twenty years. A little further on
in the same neighbourhood was Flete, which has just been rebuilt by the
late Mr. Bingham Mildmay; Membland, then the property of the late Lord
Revelstoke; and, camped out between his two brothers-in-law, was the
late Mr. John Bulteel at Pamflete, in the most lovely of cottages, full
of beautiful china, and with some of the most remarkable claret I ever
was lucky enough to come across, in his cellar.
I managed to keep a hunter and a pony and dog-cart, so what with a
certain amount of hunting with the Dartmoor Hounds, and a good deal
of shooting with all my kind friends in the neighbourhood, life was
very agreeable. It was at Saltram that I first really learnt to take
an intelligent interest in food. In those days French chefs were very
rare in England. I do not believe there were more than half a dozen in
the whole country; but at Saltram I made the acquaintance of one of
the greatest of these benefactors of the human race, and he has been a
friend of mine ever since. I allude to Monsieur Menager, who was for
something like a quarter of a century with my friends, the Hartmanns,
both in the country and in London, and subsequently for many years with
the late King at Marlborough House and Buckingham Palace. I believe
that he has now retired into private life, after a long and honourable
career, and, taking him all in all, I do not think that I ever came
across a greater artist in his profession.
When not on duty or amusing myself in the neighbourhood I spent most
of my time at the Royal Western Yacht Club. The Club House was finely
situated on the Hoe at Plymouth. It was, unfortunately, rather a long
way from where I lived at Devonport, but none the less I generally
dined there and found, moreover, an excellent rubber of whist before
and after dinner. My whist education, if somewhat expensive, was very
thorough, and I found later on in London that I could pretty well hold
my own in most companies. Whist has probably vanished for ever, driven
off the field by auction bridge, but none the less there never was a
game of mingled science and luck that lasted longer, and I always think
that the wise old Talleyrand was so right when he administered the
gentle rebuke to the young man of the Travellers' Club, who professed
that he did not play it: "Vous ne jouez pas le whist, jeune homme?
Quelle triste vieillesse vous vous préparez?"
After some fifteen months, passed very agreeably at Devonport, it
became obvious to me that it was about time I began to serve afloat
again if I meant to go on in my profession, so, with the permission
of the Admiral, I duly applied for a ship. Shortly before the time of
which I am writing, the Admiralty had, in their wisdom, established
a system of espionage on the officers of the Navy, which consisted
of confidential reports from Commanding Officers relating not only
to their professional attainments but also as to the characters
of the officers serving under their orders. Personally, I am very
strongly of opinion that anything in the nature of a confidential
report is an abomination. It puts vast powers for mischief into the
hands of Commanding Officers, who, being human, are naturally full of
imperfections. The spiteful ones, whom I hope and believe are scarce,
can vent their spite on any subordinate who is distasteful to them;
but a far more dangerous man to deal with is the honest faddist.
The man who is prepared to go to the stake for his own opinions is
generally ready to light the match that is necessary for the successful
execution of those whose way of life differs from his, and God help
the unfortunate lieutenant reported on by one of these upright, but
narrow-minded gentlemen.
My Admiral was, consequently, obliged to report confidentially to the
Admiralty on the members of his Staff. One of them, his secretary's
clerk, being a friend of mine, thought it would amuse me to see what
the old man had said about myself. It did amuse me very much, but I
confess that the report in question gave me the impression that it was
time for me to seek "green fields and pastures new," ending, as it did
after a slightly uncomplimentary comment on my general view of life,
with the sentence: "It is quite time that this young officer went to
sea." I cordially agreed with the last sentence; but I still thought
that it might have been spoken to me directly instead of being reported
confidentially to the Admiralty. This, of course, was not the fault of
my Chief, who was only carrying out, what I still consider was, a very
iniquitous order.
Early in the spring of 1881 I was appointed to the _Superb_ on
the Mediterranean Station, and before taking leave of my late
Commander-in-Chief, I must relate a very curious incident which
happened to him when a very young captain in the early 'forties, and I
may add that he told me the story himself.
In those days, amongst the great naval families who assisted each other
to all the best appointments in the Navy, the Elliots, the Greys,
and the Seymours were extremely prominent. My Admiral was the son of
the second Lord Minto. This Lord Minto, who at various stages of his
career had been First Lord of the Admiralty and later on Treasurer of
the Navy, was naturally able to insist that his son should be promoted
to Captain at a very early age. I think he must have been promoted at
the age of twenty-three or twenty-four. Captain Elliot, as he then
was, was appointed in command of a sloop going out to the Pacific
Station, and while commissioning her at a home port, he received a
letter from an old friend and neighbour in Scotland to the following
effect. This friend asked him, as a great personal favour, to make his
son a midshipman (in those days a captain had the necessary power to
rate any lad as a midshipman quite regardless of any details such as
age and acquirements) and to take him with him in his ship. His reason
for asking this favour was that his son was such an unreclaimable
young blackguard that he could do nothing with him either at home or
at any school, and he looked upon the Navy as a sort of forlorn hope
in the way of reformation. Naturally, Captain Elliot was averse to
having this very doubtful benefit thrust upon him, but thinking that
there was no great difficulty in inculcating a sense of discipline in
a midshipman, and also thinking that as midshipmen were nearly always
troublesome, one more or less did not make much difference, he weakly
consented to take him. Unfortunately, life in the Navy did not have the
reforming effect that was anticipated, and after every sort of thing
had been tried to bring this young wretch to his bearings, the Captain
decided that, as nothing else had any effect, he would try what a
flogging would do. The midshipman in question being an extremely lusty
youth, the punishment would do him no physical injury and great moral
effects might possibly result. Accordingly, this young gentleman was
duly seized up to the breech of a gun and solemnly given a dozen by
the boatswain's mate; and then the comic side of the case developed.
The boy wrote to his father and complained that he had been flogged,
upon which this grateful specimen of a parent wrote a furious letter
to the Admiralty and demanded that his old friend, neighbour, and
benefactor, should be tried by Court-martial, and tried he promptly
was. Fortunately, his interest in the Navy was far too powerful for any
real mischief to result. The Court-martial found the charge proved; he
was duly cautioned, and that was the end of it; but equally naturally
he was always known in the Navy as the captain who had flogged a
midshipman, and this reputation of a flogging-captain sat very oddly
on the shoulders of a man who was the personification of kindness and
gentleness.
In the spring of 1881 I joined my new ship, the _Superb_ (Captain
Thomas le Hunte Ward), and found the Commander-in-Chief, Sir
Beauchamp Seymour, installed at Admiralty House, Valetta, with his
Flag-Lieutenant, the Honourable Hedworth Lambton, in close attendance,
and flying his flag aboard the _Alexandra_, and it was there that I
first made the acquaintance of the late Admiral Lord Beresford, then
Commander Lord Charles Beresford, commanding the gun-vessel _Condor_.
A sailing schooner, the yacht _Aline_, that had been lent to Lord
Charles by the Prince of Wales, was converted into a sort of tender to
the _Condor_. Lady Charles was living on board, and, with their usual
hospitality, the Beresfords constantly took their friends for sailing
expeditions in the vicinity of the island.
Shortly after my arrival the squadron proceeded for the usual summer
cruise. We made up a squadron of from six to eight big ships--a very
convenient number for manœuvring, and my Captain being one of the
Seniors on the Station, the _Superb_ was very generally leader of the
lee line, as the second division was still called, in memory of the old
sailing-ship days. This particular summer cruise was a very interesting
one, for it included a visit to the Dalmatian coast. I have several
times visited the Dalmatian coast since, and I have always wondered
how any one, who could afford the luxury of a yacht, did not make a
point of making the Adriatic the main objective of his Mediterranean
cruise. It really is a most enchanting part of the world, and the
pleasantest way of visiting it, is from the sea, beginning at Venice
and working steadily down the coast to Corfu. Apart from the absorbing
interest there is in seeing one civilisation literally on the top of
another, as is exemplified in the Palace of Diocletian, which now is
practically turned into the fair-sized town of Spalato, all down the
coast it is easy to see that Greeks, Romans, Byzantines, Hungarians,
Genoese, and, above all, Venetians, have, in their turn, left the
impress of their various civilisations. In addition, the beauty of some
of the harbours is quite beyond my powers of description. Cattaro, one
of the most important, is perhaps also the finest as regards scenery.
Approaching it from the sea, the ship has to pass through the narrow
winding entrance known as "le Bocche." On either side, in addition to
the modern fortifications constructed by the Austrians, the remains
of ancient bastions and most picturesque little villages meet the
eye. Finally, the great harbour is reached. Surrounded by precipitous
mountains, it is completely landlocked, and there is anchorage there
for half the war fleets of Europe. At the head of the bay is the town
of Cattaro. Perched, as it is, on the side of a steep hill, surrounded
by high walls with occasional towers, so thoroughly mediæval is it
still, that it looks like the background of one of Doré's fantastic
illustrations of the _Contes Drolatiques_. Corfu, too, is lovely.
The view over the harbour, with Ulysses Island and the old Venetian
fortress as a foreground, the bay, with its islands as a middle
distance, and the Albanian Mountains as a background, forms a picture
that is quite unforgettable.
But to return to our cruise. Off Venice the heavy ships of the squadron
were anchored at Malamocco, which, just outside the canals, is some
considerable distance from the town of Venice, but on a summer's
night it was not an unpleasant thing to return in what was called a
"four-horse" gondola in the early hours of the morning. Pola, the
headquarters of the Austro-Hungarian Navy, was one of our ports of
call, and the visit was quite an enjoyable one; the Austrian Naval
Officers were very civil and hospitable, and their Commander-in-Chief
at that time was a man who had been Flag-Lieutenant to Admiral
Tegethoff at the battle of Lissa. In conversation with Austrian Naval
Officers it was possible to appreciate some of the difficulties of
that patchwork Empire. For instance, so mixed were the nationalities
of their men-of-war crews that it was necessary for an officer to be
able to speak to his men in at least four different languages--Czech,
Slav, Italian, and German; small wonder that, owing to the stress of
the late war and the complete victory of the Allies, what was the
Austro-Hungarian Empire is now completely disintegrated.
At Trieste I made the acquaintance of two very interesting people, Sir
Richard and Lady Burton. He was then British Consul there. The British
Consular Service has always been woefully starved, the result being
that, as a general rule, a number of very ill-paid posts are filled
up by small local purveyors, who find it worth while to fly the Union
Jack over their place of business; but at Trieste, at any rate, two
men of great distinction were Consuls during my lifetime, one being
Charles Lever the novelist, and the other Sir Richard Burton, the great
explorer and Oriental scholar and writer.
The Fleet worked its way steadily down the Dalmatian coast, calling at
Zara, Sebenico, Ragusa, Spalato, Cattaro, and, to my taste, not staying
nearly long enough at any of these interesting places, the reason
being, I suppose, that we were there for Fleet exercises and manœuvres,
and not for sight-seeing. Sir Beauchamp, however, did go himself for
one inland trip from Cattaro. He drove to Cettigne, on a short visit to
call on the Prince of Montenegro. From what he told me some time after
I do not think that he was much impressed either with this reigning
princelet or with what he described as his "little _bicoque_" of a
royal residence. After a short stay at Cattaro, the Fleet proceeded
to Corfu, where it remained for some time. The _Aline_ was still in
attendance on the _Condor_, and many were the pleasant afternoons spent
on board of her, sailing about that beautiful bay. After Corfu, the
Fleet proceeded to Eastern waters, visiting countless islands of the
Greek Archipelago of surpassing beauty. In that part of the world it
may truthfully be said, that, "only man is vile!"
The winter was passed mainly at Malta, but the _Superb_ was privileged
to go on an independent cruise to the Coast of Syria, and we passed
the greater part of the month in that paradise of the sportsman. Ayas
Bay was our headquarters. It is conveniently situated in the Gulf
of Alexandretta, or Iskanderun as it is called by the Turks. It has
a good anchorage for big ships, so the _Superb_ could, and did, lay
there very comfortably. We officers divided ourselves into two parties,
taking our leave in turn--one party remained on board the ship and
did perpetual duty, while the members of the other, camped out about
twenty miles inland and shot to their hearts' content. We organised a
small camel transport to carry our tents and general camp equipment,
and hired ponies for our own use. The first detachment rode away
and established the camp, and at the end of the week left the camp
standing, rode back to the ship to relieve those on duty, who, taking
the ponies, went back inland for their turn of sport. Game abounded;
francolin, woodcock and every sort of wild fowl, formed the greater
part of the bag, and although we were a very moderate lot of shots we
really amassed altogether quite a respectable total--enough to give
both officers and men a welcome change of diet. It was at Ayas, too,
that I first made the acquaintance of the late Lord Kitchener. He was
then a young Engineer Officer employed by the Foreign Office as one
of their Intelligence Officers in the Euphrates Valley district. He
came on board the ship on her arrival, and helped us to organise the
camel transport that was necessary for our shooting expedition. Many
years afterwards, it was my fate to see him organising transport of a
very different kind, and on an enormous scale, for the advance of the
British Army on Pretoria during the South African War.
Altogether we had a delightful time at Ayas. The climate was divine.
Although it was mid-winter there was brilliant sunshine all day, with a
wonderfully bracing air. The nights were very chill, but under canvas,
with plenty of blankets, the cold was rather pleasant than otherwise.
The rest of that really delightful winter was spent at Malta. There
was plenty of pony racing, and I was lucky enough to ride a winner
belonging to a very old friend and messmate on board the _Superb_, the
present Admiral Sir Charles Graves Sawle, one of his ponies having, in
my hands, won the hurdle race at the Spring Meeting.
But this peaceful time was rapidly coming to an end. In the spring of
1882 things in Egypt were evidently going from bad to worse, so in May
the Fleet was ordered to cruise in the neighbourhood of Alexandria, and
off that port the bulk of the Fleet patrolled backwards and forwards
for weeks whilst the members of the Government were trying (very
slowly, it seemed to us!) to make up their minds as to what steps
should be taken. Early in June the Fleet was ordered to enter the port
of Alexandria, the heavier ships--_Alexandra_, _Superb_, _Sultan_,
_Temeraire_, _Inflexible_--anchoring outside, while the inside
squadron consisted of ships of lighter draught--the _Penelope_ and
_Monarch_ joined up with the _Invincible_, the temporary flagship of
Sir Beauchamp Seymour, who had been there since the middle of May. The
smaller craft attached to the Fleet consisted of the _Hecla_, a torpedo
depot vessel, the gun-vessels and gunboats, _Condor_, _Bittern_,
_Beacon_, _Cygnet_, _Decoy_, and the dispatch vessel _Helicon_.
It is none of my business to comment on the situation at that time
in Egypt, but probably every reasonable man would now agree with
Lord Salisbury, who, when exposing the vacillating policy which the
Government exhibited for weeks and months, instanced as a direct result
that the massacre of Alexandria which took place on June 11th,--(of
which I was a spectator and will chronicle more anon),--amounted,
amongst other details, to British subjects being "butchered under
the very guns of the Fleet, which had never budged an inch to save
them." But, after all, nothing more can be expected of the "great
Parliamentarian,"--and I imagine that not even the most bigoted of
Tories would grudge the late Mr. Gladstone that measure of compliment.
I also suppose that no man but a politician of Mr. Gladstone's
commanding intellect and reputation could inform Parliament, a
fortnight after Alexandria had been bombarded and when some 40,000
troops were on their way to Egypt, that the country "was not at war."
But, as I remarked in my Introduction, "I love an Artist," and surely
no greater political artist ever flourished than the man we still hear
spoken of with such love and veneration as "Mr. G."
On Sunday, the 11th of June, the situation apparently remaining fairly
quiet, leave was given to officers and chief petty officers, and,
cooped up as we had all been when cruising off Alexandria, nearly every
one not required for duty took the opportunity of going ashore. I was
one of those who landed, and I cannot better describe what I saw of
the events of that day than by inserting a copy of a letter which I
wrote at the time to my brother, then Viscount Ebrington, M.P. This
letter was probably the earliest account received by post, and when
shown to Sir Charles Dilke, the then Under-Secretary of State for
Foreign Affairs, was, by his wish, forwarded to _The Times_, which duly
published it:--
"THE MASSACRE AT ALEXANDRIA.
"The following private letter has been received from an
officer in the Fleet:--
"_Off Alexandria, June 16th, 1882._
"My dear ----, . . . We are dwelling in the midst of alarms,
with our loins girded, etc., all ready to knock down forts
and otherwise protect British interests. That was a deuce of
a row last Sunday, and we were all precious lucky to get back
to the ship alive. I fancy the row was arranged by Arabi, so
that he could have the pleasure of putting it down; but, like
every other row, it had to have some _raison d'être_, and this
was easily found in a squabble between some Arabs and Greeks.
The Arabs began to break windows, and the Greeks produced
firearms, and let fly amongst them. I was in the same street
about a couple of hundred yards off, and saw the stones flying
and the shooting; but though there were Arabs all about us,
they never made an attempt to annoy us in any way. Presently
up came some troops, all anyhow, without a single officer, and
began to blaze away with great impartiality; but it struck us
all that for choice they went for the Europeans. We, being
between the bulk of the mob and the troops, and seeing people
beginning to drop, thought, on the whole, we were not very
happily placed, and having by the blessing of Providence found
ourselves near a door, executed a strategic movement to the
left, got inside the door, and locked it. The house we got
into turned out to be a sort of monastery school, and there
we remained for over an hour. Meanwhile, outside the fun was
becoming decidedly fast and furious. The soldiers pegged away
merrily, and the Arabs looted. We could see them through the
shutters carrying off all sorts of trash--toys, chairs, baths
(and what could an Arab do with a bath?)--in fact, anything
they could lay hands on. Presently, the soldiers having
evidently got our part of the town into something like order,
we strolled out trying to look as if we were not in a funk,
and in fact rather liked it. My friend and I were just getting
into a trap to drive down to the landing-place, when an
Egyptian policeman, who could speak English, came up and told
us it was certain death to drive down where we were going, as
the mob were at their worst there, and were hauling the people
out of the cabs and cutting their throats. We at once came to
the conclusion that we would give up our drive, and went to
the nearest consulate, where we waited till the disturbance
was over.
"All this was child's play compared to what happened to
another lot. About half an hour before we got to the consulate
four of our fellows--a great friend of mine (S.), a little
Swede we are educating on board here, one of our doctors and
an engineer got into a cab, and proceeded to drive down.
All of a sudden they were surrounded by a mob of Arabs, who
stopped the horses and went for them with their sticks. Being,
of course, completely unarmed, they ran--S. and the Swede on
one side, and the doctor and engineer the other. Dear old S.,
having been rather a professor at football in the days of
his youth, being very strong and quick on his pins, and the
little Swede also being as hard as nails, they managed to get
through the brutes, with no injury except a good hammering
all over. Of the others, one was stabbed and beaten to death,
and the other, who is still in bed, after being beaten most
frightfully, managed to crawl up to a soldier, who, for a
wonder, behaved like a trump, stood over him with a fixed
bayonet, and finally shoved him into a house, where he stopped
all night, and was fetched on board next day, poor chap, in a
most pitiable condition.
"And now comes the most extraordinary thing of all. One of our
chief petty officers was ashore on leave. Our poor engineer
was picked up by another trap going the other way, and was
taken to the police-station. As he was being helped out of
the trap, another Arab came up, banged him over the head and
knocked him down. The petty officer went for the beast with a
common thorn walking-stick he had in his hand, jammed it into
his mouth with such force that it came out behind the ear,
and killed him dead. There certainly is a Providence watching
over sailors, because this fellow was hardly touched. When he
came on board and said that he had killed his Arab, as before
described, nobody believed him. However, it turned out to be
absolutely true.
"The telegrams will have told you more than we know about
the numbers killed, but there is no doubt that they finished
off at least sixty Europeans, and Heaven only knows how many
Arabs."
Nowadays there are few Englishmen who have not served in the Army or
Navy in some capacity, so they will be able to appreciate how the month
dragged its weary way along from the 11th of June to the 11th of July,
when at last we were permitted to "get a little of our own back" by
bombarding the forts. Meanwhile we had fretted and raged at the idea,
of Englishmen, many of whom were officers in the Navy, being treated
like dogs by a lot of half-naked Arabs, and that we, though on the spot
and serving in a powerful Fleet, were not allowed to retaliate. I have
never witnessed such discontent as existed, and certainly on board
my own ship the cases of men refusing to obey orders became commoner
every day; but while the officers and men of the Service suffered, they
could expect no sympathy from the gentlemen of the House of Commons for
anything so ordinary as the ill-treatment of British subjects. Among
the members of that House of Parliament there are always men who have
no enemies in the world except their own countrymen, and the rest of
them are engaged in that most amusing and engrossing sport known as
"Politics." Anything outside the region of political exigencies matters
nothing to them. I have the opinion of one of the ablest of them that
ever lived in support of this theory. Years ago I was travelling back
from a race meeting with Lord Randolph Churchill, and I well remember
his conversation. He told me he had tried most things in the shape
of excitement. He admitted that big game shooting was excellent fun,
that engineering a successful coup on the Turf (and he and his racing
partner, Lord Dunraven, had lately pulled off a remarkably successful
coup when that good mare l'Abbesse de Jouarre won a great handicap) was
enthralling; but he went on to say that nothing in the world was half
so engrossing, as were the almost daily intrigues and manœuvres that
formed the meat and drink of the politician. But this is a digression,
and I must return to Alexandria.
During the ensuing month Alexandria was being rapidly deserted, and
an enormous number of refugees of all nations were being deported as
rapidly as possible to their homes. Commander Lord Charles Beresford
was placed in charge, and the work of chartering ships for the
embarkation of passengers was no light one. So far as the _Superb_
was concerned, our first duty, after the massacre, was to embark a
number of corpses, one being that of our own engineer officer. Many
others were those of men in the Fleet. We had to take them out to sea,
and, in the words of our Burial Service, commit them to the deep.
Bluejackets have not the smallest objection to seeing their comrades
buried at sea when there are obvious reasons for so doing, but they
bitterly resented being sent to sea to bury their dead when there was
a Christian churchyard ashore, and this was another cause of much of
the discontent of which I have spoken. Mercifully, things in England
were improving. Public indignation forced the Government reluctantly to
take action, and the Admiral was allowed to send an ultimatum, which I
believe was principally to the effect that if the work of strengthening
the coast fortifications still proceeded the Fleet would bombard and
destroy the forts. Arabi replied by bringing more troops to Alexandria
and continued to labour on the coast defences, so at last, on July
10th, all merchant ships and foreign men-of-war were ordered out of the
harbour, and at 6 a.m., July 11th, the bombardment began.
I am not proposing to write any sort of description of the bombardment
as a whole, but am simply relating what came under my personal
observation as a lieutenant commanding a battery on board the _Superb_.
The _Superb_ mounted twelve 18-ton muzzle-loading 10-inch guns in her
main battery. My old comrade, the above-mentioned Lieutenant Charles
Graves Sawle, commanded the six guns that were mounted on one side,
and I commanded the other six. There were then no hydraulic lifts or
mechanical appliances of any sort, so what really happened in action
was that the side that was unengaged hoisted the shell up by hand from
the bowels of the ship, and the engaged battery fired them off. My own
battery was terribly under-officered when my side was in action. To
assist me to control the firing of six 400-pounders (to revert to the
old-fashioned measurement) I had only one subaltern of marines and one
midshipman. It may be imagined how difficult it was to give orders and
exercise control with something like a hundred men rushing projectiles
up from the shell-room on one side, while the guns on my engaged side
were in action with all the accompanying noise of firing and the
clanking of chains and winches for the process of training and loading
the guns. After some rather wild shooting at the commencement, when the
men, owing to their keenness, were difficult to restrain, we settled
down steadily to work, and at last we were able to appreciate by actual
practice how scandalous was the sighting of our guns; how poor their
shooting capacity, and how faulty their projectiles. Ten years before
Alexandria, the French Navy possessed a breech-loading heavy gun,
working on the same principle as does our gun of to-day; but owing, I
believe, to the wiseacres at Woolwich at the time of which I write, our
guns were provided for us by soldiers, and the Navy was condemned to go
on with these ridiculous muzzle-loaders.
The first part of the bombardment was carried out by the outside
squadron under weigh, but we soon found that, when moving, it was
impossible to make, with our weapons, any sort of accurate shooting,
so the squadron was anchored. Luckily for us, the Egyptian guns were
practically just as faulty as our own, their ammunition was a great
deal worse, and their shooting beneath contempt, so the damage done to
the fleet was very slight, and the casualties were trifling. After a
long day's firing the Egyptians were driven away from their guns, and
a considerable amount of damage was done to the forts. One lucky shot
from the _Superb's_ battery set fire to the magazine of Fort Adah,
which we were then engaging, and blew it up, and that brought the day
to a conclusion as far as my ship was concerned.
Although the Egyptians had been driven from their guns, their powers
for mischief had by no means come to an end, and the very next day
the town of Alexandria was set on fire and looted. The Khedive being
in considerable danger in his palace at Ramleh, he was safely moved
to another palace at Ras el Tin, situated on the peninsula of that
name, which had been occupied by a landing-party of bluejackets and
marines, and a few days afterwards I was landed in command of a company
of bluejackets to form part of the garrison of Ras el Tin, our duty
being to ensure the safety of the Khedive. Like all sailors, we were
delighted to get out of the ship, but I do not know that we were much
better off than our brother officers who were left on board. It sounded
very Oriental and romantic to be quartered in a harem, but as the harem
was very stuffy and dirty, and only inhabited by swarms of flies, it
did not quite come up to my ideas of Eastern luxury.
But events were beginning to move--the fires in Alexandria were
gradually got under, and order had been restored to the town by the
unceasing exertions of Lord Charles Beresford. He began his work
ashore with only 140 men under him, bluejackets and marines, who, to
use his own words, "had to patrol the town, stop the looting, stop the
fresh burning of houses, bury the corpses, and protect the lives of
those who had come on shore." His force was subsequently increased by
600 marines, and they were assisted by a mixed force of Americans,
Germans, Greeks, and Italians. Moreover, for cleaning-up purposes, he
succeeded in hiring Arab labour. By the 21st all the fires were out
and the city was beginning to reassume its normal shape, and on the
1st August he was able to turn over his post as Provost-Marshal and
Chief-of-Police at Alexandria to the Military Authorities and return to
his ship.
The late Admiral Lord Beresford did much good service for his country
in many capacities and for many years; but I greatly doubt whether he
ever performed a much finer piece of work than when Chief-of-Police at
Alexandria.
Soon, troops began to pour into Egypt. On the 17th between 2000 and
3000 were landed under the command of General Sir Archibald Alison, and
shortly afterwards all the sailors ashore were relieved by soldiers.
By the 15th August, when the General Commander-in-Chief, Sir Garnet
Wolseley, arrived, the bulk of his army, some 40,000 men, were either
landed in Egypt or else on board transports at Alexandria. Sir Garnet
was, without any doubt, one of the ablest soldiers this country has
produced since the days of Wellington, and nobody knew better than he
how to disseminate false information that was sure to trickle through
and deceive the enemy.
On the 18th August the _Superb_ received orders to form part of an
escorting squadron of iron-clads, destined to shepherd the transports
to some destination, name unknown. Gradually a whisper went round that
Aboukir Bay was to be the jumping-off place for the invasion of Egypt.
It was rumoured that Sir Garnet had confided the fact to one man,--it
was not quite sure whether the man was his Chief of the Staff or an
influential Pressman. As to this, opinions differed. Anyhow, the one
man in question had been told under the seal of profound secrecy that
Aboukir was the destination of the transports. He must have babbled
in his sleep, for obviously he would not knowingly have betrayed the
confidence of the Commander-in-Chief, but however it might have been,
the rumour spread, and many hours before we started there was not a
soul on board the combined fleet of iron-clads and transports who was
not thoroughly convinced that we were going to Aboukir. The night
before we started I succeeded in collecting three of my brothers,
who were serving at the time, to dine with me on board my ship. One,
subsequently killed at Diamond Hill, outside Pretoria, in the South
African Campaign, was on leave from his regiment, the 17th Lancers,
from India, and was trying to get the Military Authorities in Cairo
to give him a temporary job; the second was in the Coldstream Guards,
and was on board one of the transports that was under our charge, and
anchored close by, he died in 1895; and the third, then a Midshipman
in the _Carysfort_, was fated to be drowned a few years later, when a
Sub-Lieutenant on the gunboat _Wasp_, that went down in the China Seas
with all hands, and was never heard of again. I rather doubt whether we
four brothers had ever been all together before, but we certainly never
met all together again.
The next morning the transports and their convoy weighed, and proceeded
to Aboukir, and a very imposing spectacle they made. Each iron-clad was
in charge of three large transports, by which means quite respectable
station could be kept, and, unlike most convoys, there were no
stragglers.
Just before arriving at Aboukir Bay, as the Fleet was preparing to
anchor and excitement was at its highest, a signal was made directing
us all to steer on a certain course, and some hours later we found
ourselves at the entrance to the Suez Canal, of which entire possession
had been already taken by another portion of the Fleet. Suez had,
meanwhile, been seized by Admiral Hewett. The transports were passed as
rapidly through the canal as possible, with the view of disembarking
their troops at Ismailia, and we remained in masterly inactivity off
Port Said.
It was at that time that I suffered one of the greatest disappointments
in my life, and I can still recall the absolute tears of rage and
mortification that I shed. A night or two after our arrival at Port
Said, unluckily for me, I had kept the middle watch, from midnight
until 4 a.m. Very shortly after 4 a.m. a signal was made to the ships
in harbour to land a Naval Brigade for service at the front, the force
to be ready to start in two hours' time. The officer of the morning
watch took the signal to the Captain, who at once gave the necessary
orders. By right of seniority I should have been selected, but when
the Captain was informed that I had just turned in after night duty,
he decided not to disturb me and sent a lieutenant who was my junior
instead. When I appeared next morning, about eight, I was told the
news, and I fairly tore my hair out with vexation. I insisted on seeing
the Captain, and he quite agreed that, without meaning any harm, he
had treated me badly; but no reparation was possible, for it was too
late, the Naval Brigade being already some miles up the Canal in the
tug that was conveying them. Philosophy does sometimes fail to bring
comfort, and mine for the moment became a negligible quantity. I did
succeed in getting up to Cairo a little later for a short time, after
its occupation by the British troops, but in the days of one's youth it
seemed a bitter disappointment not to have been at Tel-el-Kebir, and
not to have marched into Cairo as part of the victorious army.
The _Superb's_ portion of this Naval Brigade was landed in such haste
that nothing had been provided for the officers and men of the force
in the way of camp equipment, not so much as a kettle. When they
arrived at the front the Chief Petty Officer reported this fact to
the Lieutenant in command, and they put their heads together as to
what steps to take. The C.P.O. was an old warrior who had served in
the Naval Brigade at Perak, so by his advice the officer made himself
scarce for an hour or two, and when he returned he found all things
in readiness for supper, a large kettle swinging over the fire, and a
general air of comfort. He subsequently asked his C.P.O. how he managed
to provide all these necessaries, and this was the answer: "Well, sir,
I don't exactly know, but I _do_ hear that there is a . . . row in the
Scots Guards Camp!"