IN EGYPT
Eaves put his hairy hands upon my shoulder, and dragged me out of sleep.
“’Ere, Lake, wake up, you’re on picket with me!” I opened my eyes and
looked at him. “My God,” said I. Eaves grinned and moved away. He wore
his overcoat, and a helmet of wool over head and neck. The big black
moustache hid the rest of his face. “Show a leg this way!” he called
back, plunging hands into pockets and hunching his shoulders. Away he
went.
I lay nearly atop of Tank, one blanket serving both of us. I got up
quietly to leave him undisturbed, and tucked him up at the same time. He
was on his side, an arm across his face; and he was full of deep breaths.
We had lain down as we had arrived a couple of hours before. I got up
fully dressed. The sand had grown cold and had gathered much dew, and
I was rheumy and knew a hundred little pains. I threw one arm above my
head, and after it the other. I tossed back my head and opened my mouth,
letting go something between a yawn and an oath.
It was night yet; but dawn was very near. The sand was hidden under a
grey vapour; the sky was cloudless and filled with stars. To the right
hand there seemed uneven hills climbing into the sky; and to the left, in
the distance, stood the Pyramids. In the centre of this desert space was
the little company of men and horses, sleeping exhaustion’s sleep. We had
staggered there, and straightway had thrown ourselves upon the sand.
I stepped clear of everybody until I was in the open. I stamped my feet,
settled my coat, pulled straight the wool helmet. I was dead tired still.
Then I turned the way Eaves had gone, leaving behind me the sleepers. The
horses were tethered to a single headline and lacked heelropes. Some lay
on their sides without twitch of the ear or quiver of the nostril; others
were stretched out, breathing in great sighs. There were those that
got up, shifted a pace or two, and dropped down again; and those that
wandered until pulled up by the rope or entangled with a neighbour, when
they reared or plunged in spiritless manner. Never had I looked on such a
weary company.
Hands in pockets, Eaves wandered up and down, grumbling to himself and
shouting at the horses. Quickly it was seen the absent heelropes caused
work in plenty. We dived together for a brute on his knees, half choked
with a tangled headline; and we dived again for another in worse case.
Hardly was there time to swear at each other: there was no time for
yawning. Of course there were lulls in the fury when we stood a few
moments straight-backed to stare at the ground or look one another in the
eyes, and curse Egypt and the Kaiser and ourselves as fools for having
come this far. And then it was “Blast that ’orse!” and together we sprang
for it. The wide flat country shut in by blue starry sky made the night
immense, and we went about much of our work in silence. For the small
noises of our movements and our words, and the groans of the horses, were
caught and swallowed instantly in the stillness. There was so much to do,
time went with great speed. The false dawn moved abroad while I thought
still it was night.
We were on short picket, and quite soon I was relieved. Light was
spreading everywhere, the fog was lifting, and with it passed away
the damp. The morning was very sharp, so that I started to wonder how
long the sun would delay. As yet there was no sign of it. I waited
a few moments, hands deep in pockets, watching the new pickets move
disconsolately up and down. Then I walked back to the sleepers. They were
as I had left them, on their backs with open mouths, curled up knees to
chin, and even covered completely up in coat or blanket. Even now it
wanted most of an hour to réveillé, and I thought of bed again. Tank had
seized the blanket for himself; but I knelt down and firmly took most of
it away. He groaned, but he did not wake up. I lay down beside him and
pushed my back against his, which was warm and comforting after the sharp
air. I wrapped the blanket well about me, and quite soon I was asleep.
I seemed asleep no time at all; but when I woke the sun had come up into
the sky, the desert was bright and alive, and men were waking all round
me, yawning, getting up, and stamping, and cursing Egypt for a barren
and barbarous land. Tank sat beside me, blinking his eyes, and puffing
his cheeks out like a swollen toad. He was dirty and done up, and I knew
his liver was out of order again. It meant a bad time for the Staff, had
not the Staff taken Tank’s wrath as a joke. I forget if we spoke at the
time. I know presently I rose to my feet and walked a little way off from
the others. I felt as broken up as I could wish to be, stiff and dirty
and not overfull of hope. It was the sharpness of the morning that saved
me. I took off the woollen helmet and opened out my coat, and in a few
minutes my blood began to move a little. I thought of a wash; but, hands
deep in pockets and legs apart, first I saw what was to be seen.
We were a ragged island of men and horses dropped in a sea of sand.
Around was a vast stretch of country, hill land and flat land covered
deeply with fine sand. Where I stood the floor was printed over with
marks of men and beasts; but farther away the sand sparkled virgin and
unsoiled, as though for ages no life had passed by. It was a sombre and
forbidding land, and yet it attracted me strangely. In front, a mile
or so away, the country was relieved by an oasis of palms many hundred
acres in extent. A considerable village of mud huts had grown up on the
outskirts, and now in and out the gates wandered what looked like flocks
of goats and sheep, tended by native children. There seemed a building
or two solitary among the palms, and tall robed figures moved among the
trees and round about the village. A man led to work a string of three
camels, and other men sat astride ambling donkeys, their legs sweeping
the ground. And there were curious cattle shambling before a leisurely
cowherd. The shrill crying of voices and the barking of dogs came
constantly from over there. Farther to the right ran the straight road
to Cairo. It was marked for several miles of its length by two lines of
trees. We had brought the horses that way last night, or this morning, to
tell the truth. The desert seemed to march beyond the farther side; but
it was not easy to see past the trees.
Swinging farther still to the right hand, I met the Pyramids. Where I
stood two only were visible. They rose up side by side, large and very
forbidding. Before them had risen the first tents of the camp. There
seemed, also, stacks of stores in building. Troops moved about in the
neighbourhood, like ourselves the vanguard of the great camp. Behind me
the desert stretched bare of everything to the horizon. So much for the
present, thought I, and I went back to the others.
All the men were awake now, and, as we had lain down in our clothes,
there was little toilet to perform. All seemed short of temper, for they
were blinking at one another and cursing their luck. That merry rogue
Wilkes alone of them all greeted me with smiling face. He sat cross-kneed
on a waterproof sheet, and called out to know how I did. I stopped by
him and looked down. He was an Englishman, a jolly vagabond chap, and a
liar of wonderful ability. I had a strange liking for him; he was my best
tonic for the blues. I had but to call out: “Wilkes, old man, come and
lie to me about your rich uncle,” and across he would come and keep me
smiling for an hour.
Now he turned to me his white, well-fed face, which made me think of a
shifty parson, and cried out: “What d’you make of it, Lake?”
I shrugged my shoulders, and said nothing.
“The same here,” he answered, laughing.
Oxbridge, who had been growling to himself, chipped in from near-by.
“Awful place! Wish I was back in Collins Street. Won’t catch me here
again.”
Then Tank came at us on the bounce and shut us up. He jerked out his
sentences on the end of his breath. “What are you doing there! Get up at
once! Fall in! D’you want to be told a hundred times! Oxbridge, what are
you doing there! D’you hear me, Oxbridge!”
“I damned well hear you,” said Oxbridge, rising leisurely to his feet.
The sun rose up, a kindly sun, warm but not too hot; and the earth grew
more cheerful. The winds sparkled and the distant palm leaves glittered;
but the bite in the air stayed. The horses were little recovered by their
rest, and still lay as dead, with bodies turned gratefully towards the
sun. The pickets wandered forwards and backwards along the line. We had
expected a day’s rest; but we started the weariest day in my memory.
There was chaff to be humped over the sand for the horses; there was
watering to be done. The shifting sands made walking a labour in itself.
Later we were given the camping ground allotted us; it was distant from
the old spot, and quantities of baggage must be carried there. The
journeys over the sand were endless.
There was baggage which proved too weighty for man-handling, and a party
of us were told off to commandeer help. We trudged towards the tented
area, and found there a great gathering of rickety lorries, drawn in each
case by a thin underbred horse, and driven by an unsavoury native. The
vehicles were in much confusion, there was constant backing, grinding,
and jarring; and the drivers employed frenzied gestures and wild shouts.
Outside this gathering were a score of resting camels, thrusting this
way and that snaky heads, or rolling jaws from side to side on the cud.
A group of drivers squatted on their hams, pulling to pieces in their
fingers round flat cakes, and pushing the fragments into their mouths.
Like the horses, the camels were stale and unkempt; and the gorgeously
robed drivers would have been the better for a wash.
We stood a short while watching the jumble, perhaps as we were uncertain
of the method of possessing these transports. The soldiers quartered down
here were English Territorials, belonging to a Manchester Regiment. I was
told they had been sent over from Cairo to prepare camp for us. It was
to be seen they knew the game better than ourselves, as he who wanted a
cart or camel plunged into the tide, chose a beast more promising than
the rest, jumped upon the driver, and by threats and promises forced him
to thread a way into the open. The confusion increased, the voices of the
drivers broke into passionate Arabic; there was a cracking of whips and a
grinding of wheels; and finally lorry or camel came into the quiet of the
more open ways and moved over the desert.
The quartermaster’s tents were rigged here, and men weighed out meat,
flour, and vegetables, and loaded them on the lorries. The crush in the
lanes between the tents was great, lorries, camels, and soldiers trying
to pass at the same time. Oaths in plenty were to be heard for the
listening, but a current of good nature ran under all. It did not take us
long to learn our part. We secured our lorries, heedless of groans and
protests from the drivers that they had worked all night and could do no
more. We crowded on to them, dangling our legs over the back, and turned
towards last night’s camping ground. The sand made the going very heavy,
and the horses were underbred and starved. We were sorry for them, but we
were sorrier for ourselves and stayed where we were. Torrents of Arabic
and a heavy whip got us home at last.
As yet the camp had neither boundaries nor guards, and natives overran
it. Numbers came to loaf and stare; also there were orange sellers
in scores, and vendors of nougat, chocolate, picture postcards, and
cigarettes. They grew a nuisance with their importunity. This was our
first day, and we accepted them in good humour and bought largely. The
news of our wealth spread quickly, and turned the camp into a travelling
bazaar, with merchants ready to bargain salvation at a price.
It was coming towards the middle of the morning, the sun was high up,
the sharpness in the air gone, yet the heat was in no way oppressive.
The winter climate was ideal. I own the prospect of endless sand was
very desolate, and the men seemed to think so. To tell the truth, we
were dog-tired, and the endless marching across the sands was taking the
last of our spirit from us. Matters were little improved now the lorries
helped us. With quite a moderate load aboard, the wheels sank into the
sand; and pull the weedy beast as he might, and scream the driver as he
could, the load waited where it was. So it happened we must push and haul
at the wheel-spokes, or put a shoulder behind the waggon; and in this
way, with imprecations and many rests, the baggage shifted ground. We
wore out the morning on these journeys.
A dozen natives under a white overseer sank holes for our horse-lines.
Never have I met a more easy-going company. Three shovelfuls per minute
was the average. The digger put his shovel into the ground and leaned
a foot on it; and looked long at the sky and longer at us, and next
pressed home the shovel. He straightened his back then, said a word to
a neighbour, and lifted out the sand. There was something noble in the
leisure of those movements. I watched the gang as I lay on the sand
eating a makeshift lunch.
The transport of material continued through the afternoon and into the
evening; nor did our sorrows end until fresh chaff had been brought
over and the horses watered and fed. To be honest, we managed a few
spells for ourselves during that time. There was a great deal to see.
People passed constantly to and from the village on camels and donkeys;
and herds tended cattle, sheep, and goats not far away. There was no
false modesty: we stared at them; they stared at us. There were the
bright-robed fruit-sellers, money-changers, guides, cigarette merchants,
vendors of silks, chocolates, picture postcards with whom to argue. All
this took time. There had been no space to rig tents, and we lay down
again at night on the open sands. The desert was not a bad bedroom, the
sky being cloudless and full of bright stars. But the sun had not long
gone down before the night grew very cold and made a mock of blankets and
overcoats. I turned once or twice before morning.