ATHLETICS ­A NEW ACQUAINTANCE TURNS UP ­AN EXPEDITION UNDERTAKEN, FOLLOWED BY A RACE FOR LIFE

Energetic and exhilarating exercise has sometimes the effect of driving away sickness which doctors’ stuff and treatment fail to cope with successfully.  In saying this we intend no slight either to doctors’ stuff or treatment!

After the troops had been some time at Suakim the effect of the climate began to tell on them so severely that a very large proportion of Europeans were in hospital, and many who strove hard to brave it out were scarcely fit for duty.

Great heat did not, however, interfere with Miles Milton’s health.  He was one of those fortunates who seem to have been made of tougher clay than the average of humanity.  But his friend Armstrong was laid up for a considerable time.  Even Robert Macleod was knocked over for a brief period, and the lively Corporal Flynn succumbed at last.  Moses Pyne, however, stood the test of hard work and bad climate well, and so, for a time, did Sergeant Hardy.  It was found generally that the abstainers from strong drink suffered less from bad health and unwholesome surroundings than their fellows, and as there were a good many in the regiment, who were constantly endeavouring to convince their comrades of the advantages of total-abstinence, things were not so bad as they might have been.

It was about this time that one of the generals who visited Suakim instituted athletic games, thereby vastly improving the health and spirits of the men.  And now Miles Milton learned, for the first time, what an immense power there lies in “scientific training!”

One evening, when out walking with Stevenson, he took it into his head to race with him, and, having been a crack runner at school, he beat him easily.

“Why, Miles,” said his friend, when the short race was over, “I had no idea you could run so well.  If you choose I will put you in training for the coming sports.  You must know that I have run and walked and competed in the track many a time at home, and have trained and brought out runners, who had no notion of what was in them, till I proved it to them by training.  Will you go in for it, and promise to do as I bid you?”

“I have no objection,” replied Miles, with a light laugh.

If he had known what his friend intended to do he might not have agreed so readily, for, from that hour till the day of the sports, Stevenson made him go through an amount of running ­even after being made stiff by previous runs ­that he would never have agreed to undertake unless forced to do so.  We say forced, because our hero regarded a promise once given as sacred.  His was a curiously compound nature, so that while in some points of conduct he was lax ­as we have seen ­in others he was very strict.  He was peculiarly so in regard to promises.  His comrades soon came to know this, and ultimately came to consider him a very reliable man.

Having, then, promised his friend to keep sternly to his work, he did so, with the result that his strength increased wonderfully.  Another result was that he carried off the first prize in all the races.

In order to make the most of time and avoid the evils of noonday heat, it was arranged that the races, etcetera, for the Egyptian soldiers and natives in Government employ should come off in the morning, and that the British troops should run in the later and cooler parts of the day.  With the temperature at 120 degrees in the shade it would have been dangerous for Europeans to compete.  The sports, including our familiar cricket, were greatly enjoyed, and the result was a decided improvement in the health of the whole force.

Boat-races were also included in these sports.  At the conclusion of one of these, Miles, to his great surprise, encountered his old acquaintance of the Sailors’ Welcome, big Jack Molloy.

“Why, Jack!” exclaimed Miles, as the hearty tar wrung his hand, “who’d have expected to see you here?”

“Ah, who indeed? an’ I may say ditto.”

“I’m very glad to see you, Molloy, for, to say truth, I thought I had seen the last of you when we parted in the troop-ship.  I’ve often thought of you since, and of our first evening together in the ­the ­ what was its name?”

“The Sailors’ Welcome ­man alive!  I wonder you’ve forgot it.  Blessin’s on it! I ain’t likely to forget it.  Why, it was there, (did I ever tell you?) the wery night arter I met you, that a messmate took me to the big hall, back o’ the readin’-room.  It’s no use me tryin’ fur to tell you all I heard in that there big hall, but when I come out ­blow’d if I didn’t sign the pledge right away, an’ I ain’t took a drop o’ grog since!”

“Glad to hear it, Jack, for, to say truth, I never saw the evil of grog so clearly as I have since coming out here and seeing strong stout men cast down by it in dozens, ­many of them kind-hearted, right-thinking men, whom I would have thought safe from such a thing.  Indeed I have more than half a mind to join the Good Templars myself.”

“Young man,” said Molloy, sternly, “if it takes the death of dozens o’ stout kind-hearted men to force you to make up half your mind, how many d’ee want to die before you make up the whole of it?”

“But I said that my mind was more than half made up,” returned Miles, with a smile.

“Now lookee here,” rejoined the sailor earnestly, “it’s all wery well for milksops an’ nincompoops and landlubbers to go in for half-an’-half work like that, but you’re not the man I takes you for if you ain’t game for more than that, so I ax you to promise me that you’ll sign the pledge right off, as I did, first time you gits the chance.”

“But you forget I’m only a landlubber who, according to you, is fit for only half-an-half measures,” said Miles, who, not being addicted to much wine, felt disinclined to bind himself.

“No matter,” returned the sailor, with deepening earnestness, “if you go in fur it you’ll never repent it!  Take my word for that.  Now, I ax ye to promise.”

“Well, I do promise ­the very first time I get the chance; and that will be to-morrow night, for our new parson has started temperance meetings, and he is a great teetotaller.”

“An’ you promise to stick to it?” added Molloy.

“When I give a promise I always stick to it!” returned Miles gravely.

“Right you are, lad.  Give us your flipper!”

The foregoing conversation took place at the harbour, a little apart from the noisy group of soldiers and sailors who were discussing the circumstances of the recent boat-race.

Immediately after it Molloy returned to his ship in the harbour, and our hero to his post in the line of defence.

One of those who had been conspicuous that day in arranging and starting the races, acting as umpire at the cricket, and, generally, putting heart and spirit into everything by his quiet good-nature and self-denying activity, was the young officer of Engineers, who has been already mentioned as the manager of the mines that were laid around Suakim.  Poor fellow! little did he imagine that that was to be his last day on earth!

Every morning, as before mentioned, this young officer went out alone to perform the dangerous work of disconnecting the mines, so that the inhabitants of the town might go out and in and move about during the day-time in safety.  Again, a little before sunset every evening, he went out and reconnected them, so that the enemy could not approach the place without the risk of being blown to pieces.  At the same time the gates were closed, and no one was allowed to leave or enter the town.

On this particular evening the lieutenant went out as usual on his dangerous mission just after six o’clock.  He had not been long gone when a loud explosion was heard, and a cloud of smoke was seen where one of the mines had been laid down.  A party at once sallied out, and found, as they had feared, that the brave young fellow had perished.  He had been literally blown to pieces, his head being found in one place, while other portions of his body were scattered around.

This melancholy incident cast a gloom over the whole place.  The remains of the heroic young engineer were buried next day with military honours.  The garrison was not, however, left long in peace to think over his sad fate, for the very next night a determined attack was made all along the line.  The annoying persistency of these attacks seemed to have stirred the indignation of the general in command, for he ordered out a small force of cavalry to carry the war into the enemy’s country.

Critics say that this act was ill advised, and that the cavalry should not have been despatched without the support of infantry.  Critics are not always or necessarily right.  Indeed, we may venture to say that they are often wrong!  We do not pretend to judge, but, be this as it may, the cavalry was ordered to destroy the village of Handoub about fifteen miles inland on the caravan route to Berber, and to blow up the enemy’s magazine there.

The force consisted of a troop of the 19th Hussars, and another of Egyptian cavalry ­about fifty men all told ­under command of Captain Apthorp.  Our intemperate friend Johnson was one of the little band.  He was sober then, however, as he sat bolt upright on his powerful steed, with a very stern and grave visage, for he had a strong impression that the duty before them was no child’s-play.

A four hours’ ride brought them to the village.  The few Arabs who dwelt in it fled at once on their approach, and in a very short time the place was effectually destroyed, along with a large quantity of ammunition.

But no sooner had the soldiers finished the work, and begun to prepare for their return, than they discovered that a large force of the enemy was assembling to cut off their retreat.

No time for thought after that!  At least six thousand of the foe, having heard of the expedition, had crept down through the thick bush from the direction of Hasheen, thirsting for vengeance.  Two miles on the Suakim side of Handoub they formed a line and opened fire on the leading cavalry scouts.

Seeing that the Arabs were in such force, Captain Apthorp at once made for their flank, in the direction of the sea-coast.  At full speed, with horses fatigued by a fifteen miles’ journey, they had to ride for life.  It was neck or nothing now!  The Egyptian cavalry, under Captain Gregorie, and accompanied by Captain Stopford of the Grenadier Guards and other officers, followed closely.

As they went along at racing speed, with more than a dozen miles of wilderness to traverse, and death behind them, Private King of the Hussars fell from his horse wounded.  Captain Gregorie came up with him, stopped, and took the wounded man up behind him.  It was a generous but desperate act, for what could be expected of a double-weighted horse in such a region and with such a race before it?

For about half a mile he carried the wounded trooper, who then swooned and fell off, dragging the captain along with him, the freed horse rejoining its troop, while the Arabs came yelling on not a hundred and fifty yards behind.

There would have been but little chance for Captain Gregorie at that terrible crisis if self-denying courage equal to his own had not dwelt in the breast of Private Baker of the Hussars.  Seeing what had occurred, this hero coolly rode back, took the captain up behind him, (see frontispiece,) and, regaining his troop, enabled the latter to capture and remount his own steed.  Of course poor King ­whether dead or alive they could not tell ­had to be left to his fate.

Heroism would seem to feed upon itself and multiply, for this same Private Baker, soon afterwards, saw two more troopers, and shouted to a comrade to turn back with him to their rescue.  The comrade, however, did not see his way to do so.  Perchance he did not hear!  Anyhow he galloped on, but Captain Gregorie hearing the summons, at once answered it, turned, and galloped back with Baker.

They were only just in time to take up and rescue the two men.  At the same time Captain Stopford performed a similar gallant act in rescuing a dismounted trooper.

It is deeds of self-sacrifice and heroism such as these ­not the storming of a breach, or the fighting against overwhelming odds ­that bring out the noblest qualities of our soldiers, and arouse the admiration of mankind!

The race for life was so close run that when the force at last reached the sea-shore it was little more than sixty yards in advance of the foe, and so exhausted were the horses that eight of them fell, and their riders were captured ­four being Englishmen and four Egyptians.  It is right to add that one of the Egyptians also displayed conspicuous courage in rescuing a comrade.

While these stirring incidents were taking place on the plain, Miles and some of his comrades were seated on the roof of the redoubt, looking out anxiously for the return of the cavalry.  At last, in the afternoon, a cloud of dust was seen on the horizon, and the officers who had glasses could soon make out that the men appeared to be racing towards the town at full speed, while the enemy, on camels and horses, and on foot, were racing down to the sea to cut off their retreat.  No sooner was this understood than our men rose with an uncontrollable burst, seized their rifles, flung on ammunition-belts, and rushed out to the rescue, regardless for the moment of the officers shouting to them to come back.  The news spread like wildfire, and the men ran out just as they were ­ some in white jackets, some in red, others in blue; many in their shirts, with their sleeves rolled up; cavalry, artillery, marines, infantry ­all going helter-skelter towards the enemy.  Fortunately they saw from the ships what was going on, and quickly got their guns to bear, so that the moment our men had escaped clear of the enemy they opened fire.  But for this more men would certainly have been lost, for the overtaxed horses were beginning to give in and lose ground.  Had they been a few minutes later in reaching the sea, it is probable that not a man of that force would have returned to Suakim.

As it was, the men came in pale and terribly fatigued.  The horses could scarcely walk, and two of them died on the following day.

Note. ­Since the foregoing was written, we have learned, with profound regret, that the gallant Captain Gregorie was killed by his horse falling with him in 1886.