new and sad mingled with curious experiences.
at suez miles milton first made acquaintance with the shady side of war.
before the commanding officer, after parade next morning, they received marching orders, and kit-muster followed. in the afternoon the loch-ard steamer came in from suakim, with sick, wounded, and invalids, and a large party was told off to assist in landing them and their baggage. miles was one of the party. the dock where the vessel lay was three miles off, and the greater part of this distance the invalids were brought by train; but the latter part of the journey had to be done on foot by those who could walk, and on stretchers by those who could not.
oh! it was pitiful to see those battered, sunburnt, bloodless young men, with deep lines of suffering on their faces, aged before their time, and the mere wrecks of what they once were. men who had gone to that region strong, active, ruddy, enthusiastic, and who, after a few months, returned thus feeble and shattered—some irreparably so; others with perhaps years of joyless life before them; a few with the unmistakable stamp of death already on their brows.
there were about forty altogether. some, as we have said, were carried from the vessel, and not one of the forlorn band could get on without the assistance of their fresh comrades from england.
one tall, deep-chested young soldier, who must have been a splendid specimen of manhood when he landed in egypt, was supported on one side by miles, and on the other by stevenson.
“halt a moment,” said the invalid, in a weak voice and with an apologetic smile. “i—i can’t get along quite as fast as i used to.”
his trembling legs and bowed back did not require the tongue or the large sunken eyes to confirm that obvious truth.
“poor fellow!” said miles—with difficulty, owing to the lump in his throat—“you ought to have had a stretcher. here, sit down a bit on this stone. have you been wounded?”
“ay,” returned the man with a look of quiet resignation that seemed to have become habitual to him, “i have been wounded, but not by spear or bullet. it’s the climate that has done for me. i used to think that nothing under the sun could quell me, but the lord has seen fit to bring down my pride in that matter. at the same time, it’s only fair to say that he has also raised me up, and given me greater blessings than he has taken away. they told me in portsmouth that he would, and it has come true.”
“at the institute?” asked stevenson, eagerly.
“ay—the soldiers’ institute,” answered the invalid.
“god bless you!” returned the marine, grasping his hand. “it was there i was brought to god myself. cheer up, brother! you’ll soon be in hospital, where good food an’ physic an’ nursing will bring you round, may-hap, an’ make you as ship-shape as ever.”
“it may be so, if he wills it so,” returned the trooper softly; “but i have a little book called ‘our warfare,’ and a letter from the ‘soldier’s friend’ in my pocket, which has done me more good than all the hospitals and physic in egypt can do. come, let us go on. i’m better now.”
rising and putting a long arm round the shoulders of each of his new friends, the trooper slowly brought up the rear of the touching procession which had already passed them on its way to suez.
in the vessel which had brought those unfortunate men from suakim, miles and his comrades soon found themselves advancing down that region of sweltering heat called the red sea. the sight of the disabled men had naturally, at first, a depressing effect on the men; but the influence of robust health, youth, strong hope, and that light-hearted courage which makes the british soldier so formidable to his foes, soon restored to most of them their wonted free-and-easy enjoyment of the present and disregard for the future. even the serving out of cholera-belts and pocket-filters failed to allay their exuberant spirits.
the loch-ard, although doubtless a good ship for carrying coals, was very ill-suited to convey troops. but in times of war, and in distant lands, soldiers lay their account with roughing it.
they soon found that a little of the physic which is supposed to be “rough on rats” would have been of advantage; for the very first night many of the men were awakened by those creatures nibbling at their toes! everything on board was dirty: the tin pannikins were rusty, the biscuit was mouldy and full of creatures that the captain called weevils and macleod styled wee-deevils. some of the biscuit was so bad that it had to be thrown away, and the remainder eaten, as moses said, with closed eyes!
“it’s an ill wind that blaws naebody guid,” said macleod to moses pyne, as he came on deck to enjoy a pipe after their first dinner on board. “what d’ee think that queer cratur flynn is doin’ doon below?”
“nothing very useful, i daresay,” said moses.
“ye’re wrang for ance. he’s lyin’ in ambush there, makin’ war on the rats—ay, an’ he’s killed twa or three a’ready!”
“you don’t say so! i’ll go and see the fun.”
so saying moses went below, but had just reached the foot of the ladder when a boot caught him violently on the shins.
“hi! hallo! ho!” shouted moses.
“och! git out o’ the line o’ fire wid ye! there’s another!” growled flynn, as he fired a second boot, which whizzed past the intruder, and a sharp squeak told that it had not been fired in vain!
moses beat a hasty retreat, and the irishman continued the fight with that indomitable perseverance for which his countrymen are famous. there is no saying how long the action would have lasted, but in his energy he knocked away the support of a shelf behind him and a small cask of large nails, taking him in rear, sent him sprawling on the deck and routed him.
this misadventure did not, however, terminate the war. on the contrary, rat-hunting became a favourite pastime during the voyage down the red sea. our hero, of course, took his turn at the fighting, but we believe that he never received a medal for his share in that war.
they spent one sunday on the deep, but the only record made of it in the journal of the soldier from which most of our facts are gathered is that they “had prayers in racing style—against time!”
as if to cleanse themselves from the impropriety of this act the soldiers had a grand washing of clothes on the following day, and the day after that they arrived at suakim.
“it is what i call a dreary, dismal-looking town,” said miles to armstrong, as they approached.
“might be worse,” replied his friend.
“ye aye tak a cheery view o’ things, airmstrong.”
“an’ what for no?” asked sutherland.
“you may well ask why not,” said sergeant hardy. “i think it wisest to look always on the bright side of things.”
“whether it’s dreary or pleasant we’ll have to make the best we can of it, boys,” said stevenson; “for this is to be our home for some time to come.”
“horrible!” growled simkin, whose spirit was essentially rebellious.
“ochone!” sighed flynn, who, we need scarcely say, was essentially jolly.
further remark was cut short by the voice of captain lacey ordering the men to fall in, as the colonel in command was coming on board to inspect them.
the night of the arrival of the 310th was dreadfully hot, insomuch that many of the men found it impossible to sleep. but in the silence of that night food for reflection was supplied to the wakeful, in the form of sounds that were new to many, but soon became familiar to all—namely, the boom of big guns and the rattle of musketry. osman digna was making one of his customary attacks on the town, and the defenders were repelling him. of course the sanguine among the new arrivals were much excited, and eager to join in the fray; but their services were not required that night. osman and his dusky hordes were being repulsed as usual, and the reinforcements were obliged to content themselves with merely listening to the sounds of war.
