"Where's Gubbins?"
"Gubbins, sir," said the sergeant; "is he not here? No, he is not.
Where can he have got to? Gubbins!"
He went aft and looked into the lighter; there was no one there, and he
was turning away again, when he heard a voice in tremulous accents
crying--
"Help! Help! Do pull me up, some one, or send a boat. He will have
me--I know he will! He will jump presently; and if he doesn't, I can't
hold on much longer. Help! Oh, lor! Help!"
There was James Gubbins clinging to the rope by which the others had
come on board. He had waited till the last, and then attempted to
follow. There were two knots in the rope, one near the bottom, the
other some five feet higher, and by grasping it above the top one with
his hands, and above the lower one with his ankles, he managed not to
fall into the water. For the lighter had floated clear of him. As for
swarming up the rope without the aid of knots, he might as well have
tried to dance on the tight rope.
Now to fall in the water would of itself have been a serious thing to
poor Gubbins, who, of course, could not swim; but to add to his terror
there was a shark, plainly visible, his back fin indeed now and then
rising out of the water, swimming round and round, opening his mouth,
but by no means shutting his eyes, to see what luck would send him. And
good rations and regular meals, with something a day to spend in beer,
had agreed with James, who had not been accustomed before enlisting to
eat meat every day. He was plump, and enough to make any shark's mouth
water.
The sergeant called for assistance, and Gubbins was hauled up. He got a
good many bumps against the side before he was safely landed on the
deck, but he stuck to his rope like a limpet, and came bundling on board
at last.
And then, when he felt himself out of the reach of those cruel jaws
which had threatened him for a time, which seemed to him long enough, he
nearly fainted.
After this experience, if James Gubbins ever learned to swim, it would
have to be after his return to England, for nothing could persuade him
to go into the waters of the Red Sea. And so he missed the principal
pleasure which hard-worked "Tommy Atkins" enjoyed at that period. For
when the work of the day was over, bathing parade was the great feature
of the evening, and the margin of the strand was crowded with soldiers,
swimming, wading, diving, splashing, playing every imaginable game in
the water, for, however tired they might be, the refreshing plunge gave
them fresh life and vigour.
And, by-the-by, why is the British soldier called "Tommy Atkins?" I
believe that there are plenty of people who use the term and don't know.
The nickname arose simply from the fact that every company has a
ledger, in which each man's accounts are kept. So much pay and
allowance on the credit side, so much for deductions on the debit, with
the balance. The officer commanding the company signs to the one, the
soldier himself to the other. On the first page of this book there is a
form filled in, for the guidance of any new pay sergeant who may have to
make out the accounts, and in this the fancy name of the supposed
soldier is printed in the place where he has to sign, and this fancy
name is "Thomas Atkins." But upon the point of who was the first person
to generalise the name, and how it came about that his little joke was
taken up and came into common use, history is dumb.
This is a digression, and I suppose, according to the ideas of some
people, I ought to ask you to pardon it, for I observe that that is a
common plan upon such occasions. But I do nothing of the kind. If I
thought it needed pardon I should not have made it; and you ought to be
glad to improve your mind with a little bit of useful information. But
you knew it all before? Well, how could I tell _that_, I should like to
know.
Whether the sharks were good old-fashioned Mohammedans, who would not
bite on the side of the Mahdi, or whether the number of British soldiers
in the water together, and the noise they made, overawed them, they did
not attempt any supper in that direction, and the men enjoyed their bath
with impunity.
The work went on day after day for some time, always at high pressure,
and the men got into rare good training for marching or any other kind
of work. And they had plenty of water to drink, for the steamers in the
harbour were perpetually at work condensing the salt-water, which turns
it, as you probably know, into fresh. Pipes then conveyed it on shore,
where it was received in tanks and barrels. And the want of natural
springs, and the consequent necessity of having recourse to an
artificial supply, were not without advantage.
For the only water which can be got for troops when campaigning is very
often polluted, and the men get dysentery from drinking it, whereas this
was necessarily quite pure. And probably owing to this cause there was
wonderfully little sickness. A terrified horse gave trouble in the
landing him one day, and Tom Strachan, who was with the fatigue party
which had to do it, lent his personal assistance, and with success, but
he grew warm over the job.
As he was wiping the perspiration from his forehead Major Elmfoot rode
up.
"Well, Strachan," he said, "how do you like this work? Do you want it
over that you may begin fighting the Arabs?"
"Well, yes, sir," replied Tom. "A little of it goes a good way, and we
have had more than a little. Still, we should not get on well without
grub or cartridges, should we, sir?"
"No, my lad, you are right there; and I am glad to see you are a
philosopher."
"Am I that, sir? Well, it is no use grumbling, but I am glad it is
pretty nearly over."
"Pretty nearly over, you think it, do you?" said the major, drily.
"Then the stores are to walk up to Fort Baker by themselves, I suppose."
"Have we got to--," began Tom, in dismay.
"Yes, we have," replied Major Elmfoot to his unfinished query; "and you
are to knock off this job and start off on the other one at once."
It was a peculiarity of the major's to preface an order in that way--
that is, to prepare you for something quite different, and then take you
aback. If you were just going to dinner, and he had a duty for you
which would cause you to defer that meal, he would begin by asking if
you were hungry. He did not mean to be aggravating; it was only a way
he had; but it was rather trying sometimes.
Fort Baker was about three miles from Trinkitat harbour; it was erected
by Baker Pasha on the second of the month which was now drawing to a
close, that is the February of 1884, when he was in command of the
Egyptian army which was cut to pieces by the Arabs on the fifth. There
is no fresh water nearer that part of the coast than the wells at El
Teb, eight miles off; so every drop of the precious liquid for the use
of the troops had to be first condensed at Trinkitat, and then carried
in tanks of galvanised iron on camel or mule back to the fort. Three
miles do not sound like a long distance, and on good ground are not very
far. But the greater part of this track lay through marshes, and for a
mile it was very bad indeed. But all were in good spirits, for it
transpired that this was the last of that sort of work the two companies
of the Blankshire employed in it were to have for the present. They
were to take their arms and accoutrements with them and remain at Fort
Baker till the rest of the battalion joined them. But it was hard work
to get the unfortunate baggage animals along.
"I say, sergeant, what am I to do with this campbel now?" asked a
soldier, alluding not to a clansman of the famous Highland chief, but to
a ship of the desert which had sunk down in the mud, making the most
horrible noises imaginable, and seemed likely to be swallowed up after a
bit.
"The Johnny who understands him won't do nothing; may I lick him?"
"No, no," said the sergeant, glancing towards his captain, and with a
frown at the man which was half a wink, intimating that if it could be
done quietly and unofficially a little gentle persuasion used towards
the Egyptian driver might expedite matters.
"What's up?" asked the captain, turning back.
"A camel that's down, sir," replied the sergeant.
Tom Strachan put the case in the form of an old nursery jingle, which he
murmured for the benefit of another subaltern, Williams, who was by his
side at the moment.
"Captain, captain slang sergeant; sergeant won't swear at private;
private won't kick Egyptian; Egyptian won't stir up camel; camel won't
get out of that; and C Company won't reach Fort Baker to-night."
The captain was equal to the occasion, however.
"Look here, you know," he said to the native driver; "if you don't make
that camel go on with that load, you and your two mates will have to
carry it yourselves, don't you know."
Whether the "Johnnies," as Private Smith called them, understood all
this is perhaps doubtful, as their English was peculiar, but the tone
and gesture which accompanied the words were very intelligible, and the
Egyptian began to unload the poor bogged beast with great alacrity.
The soldiers, seeing his purpose, helped him, leaving the two other
included natives to go on with other camels, and soon the goods carried
by the fallen one were conveyed to a sounder place. The wallowing
animal being beaten and prodded, emerged from the mud uttering unearthly
cries, and was then reloaded, still objecting loudly, and on he went
again.
There was no difficulty in catching the others up; other mules and
camels in front were in a similar plight. These were also unloaded, and
then the men pulled and pushed and heaved them out, first taking off
their shoes and stockings, and rolling their trousers up as far as they
could.
One man, finding that even so he got those garments sorely bemired, so
deep was the slush, took them off altogether; others followed his
example, hanging their trousers round their necks. But no one need have
been shocked, their limbs were by no means bare, but decently clothed in
long clay stockings.
"I say, Tom," said Williams to Strachan, "fancy the regiment turning out
like that for Commanding Officers' parade at Aldershot!"
James Gubbins managed to distinguish himself as usual, for he let a
floundering mule knock him over and roll upon him. Having to help the
animal out, he seized one of his hind legs and hauled at it, with this
result--
"Look at Gubbins!" cried one of his comrades; "blest if he hasn't been
taking a cast of hisself in clay. Going to have a marble statty, old
man?"
"You ought to have a photo taken to send home to your sweetheart, Jim."
"Pity it's the end of February, and not the beginning; what a lovely
valentine he would make, surely."
"It's easy to laugh at a chap," spluttered Gubbins, "but this stuff
tastes awful; and however shall I clean myself for inspection?"
"Never mind, old chap, you'll be confined to barracks, and then them
Johnnies with the spears can't get at you."
"If any chap had a drop of rum instead of jaw to give a chap with his
mouth full of filth, there would be more sense in it," said the victim;
and it was one of the wisest remarks he had made for a long time. Some
good Samaritan _had_, and administered it, and Gubbins was consoled.
"You have made these Egyptians work," said Tom to his captain.
"Yes, I flatter myself I know how to treat those fellows."
"Oh!" cried Tom.
"What's the matter?" asked Fitzgerald.
"Nothing; only if a poor sub had done it!"
"Done what?"
"Well, you know, it was one of the jokes which were tabooed by general
consent."
"Get out!"
But it must be owned that though he meant nothing so atrocious as Tom
Strachan implied, the captain did pronounce _fellow_ like Fellah!
The fort was reached at last, and never a mule or camel left on the way.
There were some salt-water puddles at the end of the worst part of it,
and in these the men contrived to wash the mud off their limbs before
resuming their nether garments. Ward the quartermaster was there before
them; and he had a rough tent in which to receive the officers of the
two companies, and he treated them to ginger-beer and tea. Ward was an
old campaigner, who had seen no end of service--been frozen in the
Crimea, broiled in India, devoured by stinging insects on the Gold
Coast. Strachan liked to listen to his yarns, and was in consequence
rather a favourite of his. And if you are going on a campaign, it is
not half a bad thing to be on good terms with a doctor, a quartermaster,
or any other staff officer. They always have a bite or a drop of
something should you happen to come across them when nobody else has.
"You didn't expect this kind of work when you thought, as a boy, how you
would like to go into the army, eh?" he asked him.
"No," said Tom, laughing; "they don't enter into these little details in
books. It's mostly feasting and fighting, with other fellows getting
killed, that a school-boy looks forward to."
"Ah, the fighting is the best of it; there is something to keep you
going in that. Give me the chap that will stand hunger, thirst,
fatigue, want of sleep, and fever, and be as jolly as a sand-boy all the
time. That's the sort for a soldier."
"But all that would be no good if he would not stand up when the pinch
came."
"Of course not; but a fairly bred one--I mean English, German, French,
Italian, Dutch--is bound to stand if he is properly trained and led. If
he is rightly drilled it does not occur to him to run away unless his
comrades do; and then, after a bit, he gets excited. Then, as to
generals; I don't say that it's an easy thing to fight an army well, but
it is easier than to feed it. I tell you all the real art of war lies
in little details that no one ever talks about."
"Then you are not a hero worshipper, Ward?"
"Not I, I have seen too much. I take no credit from men who get
mentioned in despatches, win the Victoria Cross, and so forth; but there
is a lot of luck in it. Heaps of men deserve these prizes just as much
as those who get them. Indeed, the most deserving of all get killed out
of hand, and make no claim. You see, one man does a thing with a
flourish, which attracts notice, and is popular, and gets watched; and
another is quiet and retiring, and afraid that if he pushes himself he
may not prove as valuable an article as he has led people to expect; and
a smart or plucky thing which gives promotion, or the Victoria Cross, to
the first, merely elicits a `well done, old fellow!' from his mates for
the second."
"And that's worth risking a good bit for!" cried Green, with his eyes
sparkling, and a heightened colour.
"Hark to Green! Good lad! By Jove, he's right!" Green blushed.
"Why are you like King Duncan's blood on Lady Macbeth's hand, Edwards?"
asked Tom Strachan of the last speaker.
"I can never guess riddles," said Edwards. "Give it up."
"Because you have made the Green one red," said Strachan.
"_You_ will never miss the Victoria Cross for want of cheek, at any
rate," said Fitzgerald.
"I am glad of that," replied Tom, "as I have my plan for it. I mean to
stick behind you the first time you go to do anything heroic, and if you
get killed I shall hope to get the credit of your action."
"So you want me to be knocked on the head, do you, you young villain?"
"Not at all, sir; no one can say I would rather have your room than your
company."
"What _are_ the boys coming to?" cried Fitzgerald. "When I was a sub, I
no more dared to speak to my captain like that than to--to walk off
parade without permission," he added, after pausing to think what was
the highest possible stretch of mortal impudence.
"Perhaps your captain had not your appreciation of wit," replied Tom.
"Wit, indeed! You call your bad puns wit, do you?"
Next day the rest of the troops marched in from Trinkitat, and
bivouacked outside the fort. They had made a fair start, and commenced
the campaign now, and the novelty of eating their evening meal in the
open, by the light of a bonfire, had a charm for some of the young ones.
The officers' mess of the First Blankshire was held round an oval
trench. A coat thrown on the earth dug out of it served for a seat; the
feet were placed in it, and the pewter plate with food on it was held on
the knees. This is infinitely more comfortable than feeding in a
cramped position on the ground.
Though they knew all about it before, it seemed strange to the
inexperienced to lie down at night in the open, like animals, instead of
going to bed, but some were so tired that, not being on duty, they
rolled themselves up in the coats they had been sitting on, and courted
a nap directly they had done feeding.
Those who did so, however, were presently aroused by a tremendous
cheering, which made them jump up, and run to see what had happened. It
was the arrival of the Sixty-fifth, who had been stopped on their return
from India, and sent to Trinkitat instead of England. They had only
landed that afternoon, and had marched on at once. It was not long,
however, before the challenge of the sentries, and the snores of
sleepers alone broke the silence of the little host, lying stretched in
slumber under the faint light of the new moon. Their sleep was
disturbed by showers of rain, which interfered with all but the very
sound, and even these were fairly roused at last by a regular drencher,
the water coming down tropical fashion, in bucketfuls.
"Halloa, Green!" said Strachan, to that young hero, whom he found
standing in astonishment, drenched, but not dismayed. "Do you believe
that it rains sometimes in the Soudan, now?"
"I do," replied Green, solemnly. "Books talk nonsense."
"I wish it was time to start," said Edwards, joining them. "It seems so
absurd to stand here saturated, with no possibility of resting oneself,
when one might be getting on."
"It is more than half-past four, and reveille is to sound at five.
Let's try and light the fire again; there's a bit smouldering, in spite
of the rain."
This was Strachan's suggestion, and voted a good one; and they had just
succeeded in raising a blaze, when a bugle started the most romantic,
melancholy, musical call in the whole category. I mean in itself, and
not for its associations; and yet when one thinks how many thousands of
brave men have been roused by it to go to death, it is not free from
these. Number one only got about three notes start, when a second
began, and presently the whole air was full of plaintive sound.
Then flickers of fire shone out, and coffee was boiled, and the men got
their breakfasts. Then, after a while, the Fall-in sounded, and the
different corps and detachments stood to their arms. The commanding
officer of the First Blankshire went round the ranks, and spoke to the
men here and there. He did not remark on the mud which still clove to
James Gubbins, but he stopped opposite Green.
"Why, what is the matter, Green; where and how are you hurt?" he asked.
"I, sir?" said Green, in astonishment; "I believe I am all right."
"Why, you are bleeding like a pig!" And so he was, from his right ear.
"I must have cut it with my sword, sir, carrying it carelessly. I
forgot that I had had it sharpened."
"Well, it can't be very bad, if you did not know it," said the colonel,
laughing as he rode on. The bleeding stopped presently, but not before
it had made Green's kharkee sleeve and his sword, down which there had
been a trickle, look exceedingly warlike.
"He has fleshed his maiden blade!" said Tom Strachan.