Henty was not one who, during a long life, indited many letters dealing
with his ordinary social communings with his friends, from which
chapters might be extracted concerning his thoughts upon political or
social subjects, his leanings towards life in general, or his interest
in some special subject. He rarely wrote home save, as has been before
said, to tell of the state of his health, referring those he loved to
his long professional letters in the columns of the journal he
represented. But in justice to one of the most industrious of men, his
family fared, as far as interesting and descriptive matter was
concerned, much better than those connected with the most chatty of
correspondents, who scatter manuscript as opposed to his print.
Autobiographies are few. There are plenty of the young and enthusiastic
who begin life by writing a journal, but those who keep it up to the end
are very, very rare. Unconsciously, however, George Alfred Henty pretty
well passed his days in writing his own life, and, as fate would have
it, a life of the most stirring kind.
The letters he did write to his colleagues upon business, those of a
social nature, or on matters connected with some literary transaction to
a fellow club member, as well as those between editor and contributor,
or with the positions reversed, were always the same--written in a
minute neat hand upon small note-paper and in violet ink. But of the
many possessed by the writer not one seems to contain material that
would be interesting to the general reader. Owing, perhaps, to their
want of egotism, they do not tell their own tale of the man's nature one
half so well as the columns he wrote during his long connection with the
newspaper press.
And thus it is that through his early manhood onward, through maturity
to his thoroughly vigorous old age--if it can be termed old age when a
man is robust and virile till beyond three-score years and ten--Henty's
life formed so many chapters of energetic and active career, marked, as
it were, by passages generally warlike, connected with the warfare of
nations.
At the time of which one is writing, that is, the year following the
freeing of Italy, he spent much of his time making tentative unofficial
efforts with his pen; but this was prior to the commencement of the long
series of novels and stories written especially for the youth of
England. For the next year he began to devote considerable attention to
his little yacht, finding exercise and refreshing peaceful life afloat.
Yachting was the one hobby of his manhood, and a recreation in which he
indulged himself at every opportunity, even to the very last. In this
way he recouped himself, and made up for the worry and excitement such
as falls to the lot of a war correspondent, who is never free from the
strain of thinking out what will be the most interesting thing to record
among the many incidents occurring around him. There is invariably
anxiety about how to write and where to write, and when the account is
written the additional worry of how to get in touch with the post and
make sure that you have done everything possible to ensure the matter
reaching its destination safely and expeditiously.
The year's comparative rest that followed the adventures in Italy was
needed, for Henty was awaking fully to the fact that a war
correspondent's life makes a heavy drain upon the stored-up forces of
the Bank of Life; and it must not be forgotten that his health exchequer
in youth was at a very low ebb.
It may have been instinct--the natural desire of the weak to gain
strength--that induced Henty to direct his attention so much to the sea;
and without doubt this favourite pursuit of yachting, which took him
away from town life, from the strain of mind and the weary hours at the
desk, to where he could breathe the free air of heaven and cast off
care, strengthened him and prepared him for the next bout of duty that
he would be called upon to undertake.
It was just a year after the conclusion of the Italian war when he was
called upon to gird himself for another period of active service, and
leave civilised Europe for the heats and colds of semi-barbarous
mountainous Africa. The cry of the sufferers had awakened patient
Britain to the fact that she could no longer stop her ears to the
piteous plaint of the captives, no longer suffer the mocking insolence
of the defiant ignorant ruler, King Theodore of Abyssinia; and Sir
Robert Napier was preparing his forces for the invasion of that
comparatively unknown and warlike land.
All this is well-recorded history. Henty's adventures begin with his
start for the front, after reaching Bombay, where his first troubles
commenced with the choice of attendants. Servants swarmed, but
experience seemed to show that it was considered the correct thing to
hire oneself out to a master bound for Abyssinia, and, just before he
left, to disappear with his purse and any handy portable property.
Henty's first experience was with a mild Hindoo, who directly after fell
sick, while this man's brother, engaged by a colleague, was at the last
moment melted by the tears of an aged and despairing mother, and the two
rogues decamped laden with plunder.
This difficulty got over, necessaries were packed, and a vessel was
chosen in which Henty and a friend were to sail in company with some of
the troops. They were a little disturbed, though, when they discovered
that the only available bath below had to be removed to make room for
three and a half tons of gunpowder. It was a change which by no means
added to their comfort or to their feelings of security.
However, in spite of hindrances and delays, he, a brother special, and
three officers made their start, choosing by preference to sleep on
deck, partly because the nights _al fresco_ were delightful, though
rather cold, but more on account of the imaginary dangers that might
arise from the monsters which haunted the berths below. It may have
been the effect of imagination and extreme terror, but these creatures
appeared to be as large as cats, and much quicker footed, probably from
having more legs. Their horns resembled those of bullocks, and in their
utter fearlessness of man they attacked him ferociously. Henty
christens them vampires, though he does not record that they practised
the bloodthirsty habits of those creatures, and then he comes down to
plain fact and explains that his _betes noires_ answered to the common
name of cockroach.
One of his first experiences of sleeping on deck with his comrades was
to be awakened by a splash of water in his face, and as the vessel was
given to rolling he attributed this to spray; but only for an instant,
for down came a rush of water as if emptied from a bucket. In a moment
he was upon his feet to begin dragging his bed over to leeward. Then
came a rude awakening to the fact that the splash and the bucketing were
caused by rain, which raged down as if pumped by a hundred steam
fire-engines. There was nothing for it but to laugh, as the party
gained the cabin floor drenched, and with their silken pyjamas clinging
to their skins.
The customary troubles on board the small vessel, laden to a great
extent with heterogeneous stores, came to an end, but not without
incident, for navigation in the Red Sea is a most intricate and
dangerous business, as its western shore is studded with islands and
coral reefs.
The vessel was running along with a favourable breeze, and Henty had
been watching the low shore with its stunted bushes and strange conical
hills bearing a fantastic resemblance to hay-cocks, while a mighty range
of mountains loomed up in the distance. The outlook was interesting
enough, for this was his first sight of Abyssinia; but then came a very
narrow escape. They were sauntering about, watching the land and
listening to the calls of the sailor heaving the lead in the chains.
First it was ten fathoms, then two minutes elapsed and the man cried
five fathoms, whereupon a shout came from the captain: "Stop her! Turn
her astern!" In the momentary pause of the beat of the screw the
sailor's voice came again: "Two fathoms!"--a dire warning to those on
board the steamer.
But the screw had been reversed, and the yellow water was foaming round
them, showing that the sand at the bottom of the shallow water was being
churned up as the steamer, still forging more and more slowly ahead,
came to a standstill. Then the fact was patent that they were ashore;
while thoughts of shipwreck began to be busy in the brain.
The customary business of trying to get the vessel off ensued; orders
flew about; the vessel was driven ahead, then astern; but she remained
fast, and seemed to be moving only on a pivot.
The troops and crew were ordered up and tramped here and there--marching
aft, then forward, but without result. They were run in a body from
side to side, to give the vessel a rolling motion. Still no result.
Then another plan was tried, so as to loosen the craft from the clinging
sand and work out a sort of channel; and this was managed by the
soldiers running to one side and then jumping together, then back across
the deck and jumping again, the effort being made by every active person
on board, till it seemed as if all were engaged in a frantic war-dance.
After this anchors were got out, and the men set to work at the capstan,
the only result being that they seemed to be fishing for coral, pieces
of which were dragged up looking ominously suggestive of what would
happen if some of the glistening white dead rock pierced the vessel's
skin.
There seemed at last to be no chance of getting off unless a portion of
the cargo were discharged. Accordingly when an Arab dhow came into
sight and dropped anchor, a bargain was made with the sheich, her
captain, for him to come alongside and lighten the steamer by taking on
board a portion of the cargo and the whole of the troops. This, Eastern
fashion, took an enormous amount of talking, and when all was settled it
was found that the water was too shallow for the big dhow to come
alongside, with the result that this expedient was given up.
Then another dhow came and anchored at a short distance, presenting
something novel to the traveller. This vessel proved to be bound for
their own port, namely, Annesley Bay, and it was laden with a portion of
the transport that was to help the expedition across the wild country
towards Magdala, to wit, a herd of no fewer than twenty-two camels. The
poor animals, the so-called ships of the desert, were packed together in
a boat that did not look large enough to hold half that number.
At last real help came within signalling distance, and this proved to be
one of the Peninsular and Oriental Company's big steamers. She had half
of one of our regiments on board, and was towing a consort with the
remaining half of the 33rd Regiment from Karachi.
A boat was sent from the great steamer, and an officer came on board to
examine the state of affairs. He very soon came to the decision that
the water was too shallow for his vessel, the _Salsette_, to come within
towing distance. As the grounded ship was in no danger, he was obliged
to leave it to its fate; but to the great satisfaction of Henty and his
colleague, on ascertaining their destination he offered them a passage
for the rest of the way. In due course they arrived very comfortably at
the starting-point for the expedition.