MY VISION FULFILLED
My voyage homewards on the Valetta was indeed a contrast to the three months spent on the good old clipper, the Waipa, on my way to New Zealand.
I had arrived in New Zealand in November, 1879, as you know, with practically nothing before me but a determined and firm resolve to make good somehow, without any assistance except that which I could give myself. Within ten years I was returning home, with a record of service of which I could be proud.
Within those ten years I had held the position of Acting Commandant of an important colony, with the temporary rank of full colonel, and was going home with the rank of major. If I had remained in the good old regiment I would have been fortunate if I had got my captaincy within that period. But what about the knowledge and experience I had gained, not only as a gunner, but as a staff officer, and, yet more, as an officer charged with grave responsibilities in the administration and command of troops, organized and maintained on lines differing totally from the hard and fast methods governing our Regular Army, but eminently suitable to the economic conditions of the healthy young colonies whose citizens were true to the core at heart in their patriotism and were ready to make many sacrifices to maintain the might of the Motherland?
For seven years my home had been in Adelaide. My friends had always cheered me on in my work. If the exuberance of youth, good health and the happiest of surroundings—all friends, and no foes that I knew of—had not made my life happy, the fault would have been my own. I am moralizing—the one thing I have been trying to avoid all through my tale. What really is in my mind is to point out to any youngster who reads this, and whose future suddenly becomes blurred and may appear hopeless, that if he relies on his own self, gives his truest instincts fair play, and determines to beat his bad luck and give to himself his best, he will more than likely succeed, as it was my good fortune to do.
Now let us get back on board the ss. Valetta, on the moonlight night when she weighed anchor off Largs Bay and I bade “adios” to the many friends who had accompanied me on board, and who, re-embarking on the Customs launch, followed the vessel down the gulf till the evening shades hid them from our sight. The five weeks spent on the Valetta on the homeward trip were indeed enjoyable. First, the weather was fine all the way. I do not think we had one really rough day. The ship was full; not an empty berth. A “land boom” was on at the time; there was plenty of money about, and most of the passengers were well-to-do men taking their families home to have a good time. Land booms I have heard described as speculations in land, owing to which men with, say, a few hundred pounds quickly become possessed of as many thousands (on paper, not in land). Presently the boom cracks, the thousands disappear. I am sorry to say that this actually happened later on to several of our passengers.
We arrived at Brindisi, and thence went overland to Calais; then Dover and good old London. What a pleasure it was to get back to the old club, stay at the old hotel, sit in the little balcony at Morley’s, gaze at Nelson’s monument, and walk round the old haunts! After a few days’ stay in London I went home to Wardhouse.
I had undertaken only one official matter to inquire into during my absence on leave. It was to report upon the method then in vogue for the supply of warlike material to the colonies. This method was as follows. An officer, at that time General Harding-Stewart, retired, was acting as military adviser and inspector of warlike stores to the several colonies. When any of the colonies ordered rifles, guns or other requirements, he procured them in London, working on commission. No doubt he meant well, but at the time I left Adelaide there were hardly two heavy guns alike in any of the colonies. A climax had been reached when New South Wales ordered two 10-inch muzzle-loaders similar to the two which South Australia had mounted at Fort Glanville. The New South Wales guns were supplied by the same firm. They arrived in Sydney and were mounted at Middle Head Fort. I visited Sydney at the time they were being mounted, and found that their calibre differed from the South Australian guns by a fraction of an inch, so that the ammunition was not interchangeable. As a matter of fact, there were but few guns of Imperial pattern in the whole of Australia; we were armed mostly with experimental guns of private firms.
As a result of my inquiries I came to the conclusion that it would be more satisfactory if a senior officer on the active list of the Royal Regiment of Artillery was appointed at a fixed salary for a term of years, who would be instructed, at any rate in the case of heavy ordnance, field guns and rifles, to supply none except of a pattern passed into the Imperial Service itself. This recommendation was submitted by me to my Premier at Adelaide on my return, passed on by him to the other Premiers concerned, and finally given effect to, and Lieut. Colonel King-Harman, R.A., was appointed. Little did I think that, within ten years, I myself was to receive the appointment.
I had also intended to pay a visit to the Expeditionary Force at that time operating up the Nile. But the relief or fall of Khartoum was imminent, and the time at my disposal was not sufficient. Khartoum fell and General Gordon was murdered. Who was to blame? I wonder. Have you ever been to see and studied the statue raised to his memory in Trafalgar Square, a replica of which stands in Spring Gardens, Melbourne? If not, do so some day, and look well into his face. Its expression is one of sad thought. So might he have looked as he stood in Khartoum facing death.
I must pass over the glorious days I spent at home; they were the last I spent with my father and mother.
Taking my passage by the Massilia, a sister ship to the Valetta, I set out once more for the fair lands of the South, happy and contented, mentally and physically refreshed, and determined to rise still higher in my profession. On my arrival at Adelaide I received a right royal welcome. I found General Downes going strong. There had been no more talk of Royal Commissions. Major Lovett had settled down to his work and was a general favourite; he himself liked Adelaide immensely. More funds had been made available; my own Permanent Artillery had behaved well during my absence and were doing well. For the next two years nothing occurred out of the usual, either in South Australia or the other colonies, from a military point of view. The end of 1891 was approaching; the general decided to retire. Major Lovett had completed his term as adjutant-general and was returning home. I was asked to step into the breach once more and take up his duties as well as my own. I, of course, agreed, and I was promoted to lieutenant-colonel early in 1892.
The Premier of South Australia was then Charles Cameron Kingston, or, to give him his full title, which he dearly loved, Sergeant Charles Cameron Kingston, B Company, 1st Regiment, Adelaide Rifles. Kingston possessed a charming personality. He was a most able lawyer, could see through most things and most people, could analyse a difficult subject, select what was good, discard what was bad, quicker than most men. As a politician he was highly successful. Rough old Seddon of New Zealand might be reckoned as his closest rival. As a lawyer he was sound as a bell, a most eminent draftsman, and a mighty quick worker when he liked, though he was not a model of industry. As a sergeant he was tip-top. B Company was the best company in the regiment; he seldom missed a parade. As a “sport” he was loved by old and young. They spoke of him as “Good old Charlie.”
General Downes, when leaving, made up his mind to recommend to the Government to secure the services of another Imperial officer on the active list to succeed him who should take over the command before the actual date of his own retirement. Personally I must say I was rather surprised at the general’s action, for by this time I had full confidence that I could carry out the duties myself. I had not by any means wasted all my time during my leave two years before; I had got much information. Then I had been instrumental in obtaining for him his second term of command, notwithstanding that he had retired from the active list himself when he had taken up the duties of secretary to Sir Frederick Sargood. So I had hoped that, while he might express his opinion to the Government, he would not insist on it too much. I must admit that he was quite frank with me as to the attitude he was taking up. His argument was to this effect. It had been found necessary before to supersede local officers. “Surely,” he said, “the same considerations that held good then hold good now. I do not say that you are not qualified to fill the position, but if you are appointed it will form a precedent, and, on the expiry of the terms of the engagements of the Imperial officers in the other colonies the claims of local officers will again naturally be put forward. Then good-bye to the system of obtaining the services of thoroughly experienced officers who have no local interests and no axes to grind.” Meantime, the senior commanding officers of several branches of our forces were, without my knowledge, beginning to interest themselves to have me appointed as successor to the general.
To return to Sergeant Charles Cameron Kingston, let me tell of an incident which may give you some insight into the personal character of a remarkable man. It is one which, except for an accident, might have had fatal results. Kingston was leading the Government at the time; Sir Richard Baker of Morialta was President of the Upper House. Kingston had introduced a Bill in the House of Representatives dealing with arbitration in industrial disputes. Sir Richard Baker was the father of a Bill introduced into the Senate on the same subject. While the aims of the two were identical, the methods by which those results were to be obtained were by no means analogous. Each Bill had its supporters in each House. As the debates proceeded considerable bitterness arose, ending in correspondence in the daily Press. Finally, Kingston and Baker commenced to abuse each other in print. Kingston’s temper gave out. He wrote a letter to Sir Richard which he had delivered at the latter’s office in Victoria Square, together with a case containing a pistol and some cartridges. He could no longer stand what he considered the insults Sir Richard had thought fit to level at him. The letter stated that he would be on the pavement on the opposite side of the street to the entrance to Sir Richard’s office at five minutes to twelve o’clock, noon, next day, Saturday, and asked Sir Richard to take up a position on the pavement outside his offices at that hour, bringing his pistol with him. As soon as the post office clock, which was close to the office, began to strike twelve, each would step into the roadway and shoot at his leisure. A quaint duel, was it not?
The accident which saved the situation was the fact that Sir Richard was not in the habit of attending his office on Saturday morning. His son, or someone in the office, opened Kingston’s letter, and the police were informed. Shortly before noon Kingston was seen walking across from the Government Offices towards Baker’s offices. Two constables in plain clothes followed him and watched him as he coolly took up his stand on the pavement. The hands of the post office clock pointed at three minutes to twelve. The two constables walked up to Mr. Kingston. They politely asked him what his business was. “I am just waiting for Baker to come out of his office,” he answered; “then you will see some sport. I advise you to move a bit to one side. I don’t think he is much of a shot. He might get one of you two.” The constables, who were well known to Kingston, informed him that Sir Richard had not been to his office that morning, so that there would be no sport, but they had instructions from the Commissioner of Police to arrest him for attempting to commit a breach of the peace, and to take him at once before a magistrate. Within half an hour he appeared before a police magistrate, had his pistol taken from him, and was bound over to keep the peace for six months.
In the meantime the news had spread throughout Adelaide like wildfire, and had reached Sir Richard at the Adelaide Club. Kingston’s letter and the revolver which accompanied it had been sent down to the club from Sir Richard’s office after twelve o’clock. No sooner had Sir Richard been told of what had happened than he put the revolver Kingston had sent him into his pocket, borrowed another at the club, and started off to look for his challenger, who, he knew, usually lunched at Parliament House and would at this time probably be walking down King William Street from the Government Offices in Victoria Square. He was not mistaken, for after proceeding a short way up King William Street he came face to face with Kingston. “I am sorry,” he said, “I was not at my office this morning, but here I am now. Stand off, and the first one who counts five aloud can shoot away.”
“I am sorry,” said Kingston, “but I can’t oblige you; the police have taken away my revolver.”
“Never mind,” said Baker, “here is the one you sent me,” handing it over to him. “I don’t believe it will go off. I have one of my own.”
It was now time to interfere. Three of us who had followed Sir Richard out from the club stepped in and good counsels prevailed. As Kingston had been bound over to keep the peace for six months no duel could take place. As a matter of fact, it was not long before the two redoubtable belligerents shook hands and had a friendly laugh over the incident.
Now comes the sequel. By the Regulations under the Military Act, any member of the forces convicted of an offence in a civil court was liable to dismissal. On the Monday morning a full report of the case appeared in the newspapers. Before this took place General Downes had retired and I was once more acting Commandant. The officer who was acting Adjutant-General brought the newspaper report under my notice officially. There was no other course but to order Sergeant Kingston to be put under arrest and called upon to make a statement, if he so wished, before he was dismissed from the forces, in accordance with the Regulations. This order I gave. The Attorney-General at the time, Mr. Homburgh, was very much concerned at my order. A doubt then entered my mind as to whether being bound over to keep the peace amounted to a conviction under the provisions of the Defence Act Regulations. I immediately referred the question to the Crown Solicitor, who said it was a difficult question I had raised, but ruled finally that being bound over to keep the peace was not tantamount to a conviction within the meaning of the Regulations. Whether this was sound law or not I cannot say, but it gave me the opportunity to let Sergeant Kingston off easily. I at once sent orders to his commanding officer to warn the sergeant to appear before me at the Staff Office the next morning, so that I could deal with the case.
I thought the incident was over, and got ready for my dinner. As I was entering the dining-room at the Club Sir Jenkin Coles, the Speaker of the House, a close friend of Kingston’s, spoke to me about it. I told him the decision of the Crown Solicitor left the matter in Kingston’s favour; he had been ordered to appear before me in accordance with the usual custom of the Service to be finally dealt with. Sir Jenkin asked me if this was necessary. “No,” I answered; “if Sergeant Kingston signs a statement to the effect that he is satisfied with the cause of his being placed under arrest and the action taken in this matter by the military authorities I don’t want to see him at the office.” No sooner had I said this than Sir Jenkin rose from the dinner table to return in ten minutes with a written statement, signed by Kingston, to the effect that he was quite satisfied with the action taken by the authorities. So ended this extraordinary episode, but I was told by a good many friends that I had driven a nail in my coffin as regarded the Commandantship. The appointment was practically in Kingston’s hand. But those friends of mine did not know him.
General Downes left Adelaide. The Government gave no indication of their intentions re the appointment of his successor. The mayor’s official ball took place. Charles Cameron Kingston was talking to the Governor. He beckoned me and said: “I have just informed His Excellency that the Government have appointed you a colonel and Commandant of our forces.” His Excellency warmly congratulated me. I thanked Kingston.