THE SOUDAN CONTINGENT
A few months later Mrs. Barr Smith proposed to open the new theatre and ballroom which had been added to Torrens Park. Private theatricals and dances were to be the chief attraction. She wished me to take the leading part in the opening play and coach the others. I knew that I would have to give more time, than I could really spare, to make it a success. Further, there was always the possibility of some untoward event happening which at the last moment might prevent me from taking my part and probably breaking up the show. My scruples were, however, overcome by my hostess’s kind insistence. We set to work, and all went happily until three nights before the date on which The Jacobite was to make its first appearance. The first dress rehearsal was to take place. Clothed in our beautiful garments we had sat down, a merry party, to dinner. On the whole I was fairly satisfied with my company, and felt that with a couple more dress rehearsals it was probable that the show would be a success.
At that very moment Nemesis was ringing the hall bell. In a few minutes the butler informed me that an orderly wished to see me. In the hall he handed me an official letter, marked “Urgent and Confidential.” I opened it. I have never had such a surprise in all my life. The document was a dispatch from Lieutenant Hawker, the officer in charge of the men at the Fort Largs, stating that he had given some orders to the men that afternoon and that the majority of them had refused to obey.
Here was a pretty kettle of fish! From the very day of the raising of the force some three years before there had not been a single instance of insubordination of any sort. Occasional cases of overstaying leave had been about the most serious offence that had taken place. And, lo and behold! without any warning, without the slightest suspicion that anything was wrong, here was actually a “mutiny.” To leave Torrens Park at once and say good-bye to The Jacobite was my duty. I gave the butler a message for Mrs. Barr Smith, and she kindly came out of the dining-room into one of the drawing-rooms. Then I showed her the dispatch. I tried to convince her that it would be better not to postpone the performance, but to get somebody else to take up my part. As all arrangements had been completed, and the opening night was so close at hand, she thought we would get on all right if I only promised to turn up on the opening night.
There was a feeling at the back of my head that I had been devoting more time than I should have done to play. Had I not made up my mind when General Downes had told me of my first appointment to the staff that nothing should divert my thoughts from my work? The fact that the social obligations I had undertaken would necessitate frequent absences from my command should have weighed with me more. Such were my thoughts. Then there came back vividly to my mind some words of advice which my kinsman General Gordon, of Khartoum fame, had given me when I first joined at Woolwich. Talking to me one day, he told me that there were three golden rules of life which if adhered to would lead on to success. These rules were, first: “Never allow your pleasure to interfere with your duty.” Second: “Never allow your duty to interfere with your pleasure.” Third: “Never try to force a woman to give you anything more than she wishes.” I thought of these things and decided that no matter how much annoyance I caused my good friends, there was to be no more playtime for me till I could indulge in it without any qualms of conscience as to the fulfilment of my duties. I succeeded in inducing one of the professors of the university to come to the rescue, which he bravely did, and the performance took place without me.
I reached Fort Largs late that night after a twenty-mile drive. I had made up my mind to leave the men alone till the early morning, when as soon as the time came for the early morning parade I would order them myself to fall in. They were all in the large barrack-room ready dressed when the time came for the usual early parade. I walked into the room accompanied by the lieutenant and the sergeant-major, and called out “Fall in, men”; they went straight out on to the parade ground and fell in. The back of the trouble was broken straightway. It was evident to me that its cause was in a misunderstanding, probably of a personal character, between the lieutenant and some of the older men, who had induced the younger soldiers to join them in the action they had taken, as they afterwards informed me, so as to bring matters to a head. The incident was inquired into and the evidence fully convicted the two ringleaders. They were tried by court-martial, sent to prison and dismissed from the force. So ended the first and last case of insubordination that took place during the many years that I commanded the Permanent Artillery. However, the event had been of use to me, as it had reminded me of General Gordon’s golden rules.
The action taken by Sir Frederick Sargood in importing the Imperial officers to Victoria was resulting in a very considerable improvement in the military forces of that colony. They were following on the same lines as South Australia as regarded their constitution; a very much higher standard of instruction, a better supervision of detail, and competent inspection contributed to this much-desired result.
Let us see what was going on in New South Wales. The Officer Commanding the Forces was Major-General Richardson, who had been in the regular forces, had retired, and had been appointed Commandant some years previously. The organization of the military forces of “the Mother Colony” was being brought into line with that of Victoria and South Australia. The other three colonies, Queensland, Western Australia and Tasmania, had been gradually following the lead given by the others, though, as in New South Wales, they had not as yet imported Imperial officers to take command.
Towards the close of 1884 the course of our campaign in Egypt was running anything but smoothly; in fact, the military situation was very serious and critical. Throughout the Empire a strong feeling of apprehension was rife, but it was left to New South Wales, the Mother State, to be the first of England’s children to make an offer of material help. Who first conceived the idea is not recorded, but the credit of crystallizing and giving it effect belongs to the late the Hon. John B. Dalley. This was not actually the first occasion on which Australians had offered to fight alongside English regular troops, for, at the time of the Maori War in New Zealand, volunteers from New South Wales and Victoria had raised units and joined in the fighting. But such action on their part had been looked upon as only natural. New Zealand was their next-door neighbour, really a sister colony, and it was to the best interests of Australia that she should be freed from the native menace.
The offer to send troops from the southern to the northern hemisphere was quite another affair. The thought which inspired that offer could not have arisen from any feeling of selfish interest. It was really the outward sign of the affection and love for the Old Country and home inherited by the colonists. Indeed, the rising Australian generation realized what a glorious and magnificent heritage the Mother Country had so generously and freely entrusted to the care of the early pioneers, their forbears. From the day when the first Englishman set foot in Australia and the first settlement was founded, right up to the year 1884, when the offer was made, no enemy had ever threatened Australia’s shores.
Australians rejoice that theirs is the only “virgin” continent in this world. From the day of its birth there had not been a drop of blood shed on its soil in the strife of war. No other country can make so glorious a boast. Yet it is true. It is not to be wondered at when, for the first time for a considerable number of years, a British army was reported to be in peril, Australia offered to share with them the burden and heat of the day. The British Government received the offer in the spirit in which it was made. It conveyed to Australians that it fully recognized the feelings of patriotism and unselfishness which had prompted the offer, and accepted it. A contingent composed of one battery of field artillery, one battalion of infantry and a field ambulance, was organized and equipped, and left Sydney Harbour in white troopships, carrying with them the best wishes of all.
As a result of communications between the South Australian and the New South Wales Governments it was decided to send two of the transports via Melbourne and Albany, with a promise that they would call at Adelaide if time permitted. Later on we heard that the troops would divert from the direct route, Melbourne to Albany, and would pass through Backstairs Passage into the Gulf of St. Vincent, continuing their journey through Investigator’s Straits. They would have no time to steam up St. Vincent’s Gulf to Adelaide, but they would “cry a halt” for a couple of hours, taking shelter in the smooth waters of Hogg’s Bay on the north shores of Kangaroo Island.
This was as much as they could do to fulfil their promise within their scheduled time. We arranged to proceed to Hogg’s Bay in the Protector to wish them good speed. The Government issued invitations for this historic trip. Then the news arrived that the troopships were timed to reach Hogg’s Bay at one o’clock in the morning. Fortunately the moon was nearly at its full. The Protector, with its valuable cargo on board, including myself, left Port Adelaide in the afternoon. The Government had taken on board several tons of fruits then in season, as well as a plentiful supply of fireworks. The worthy commander of the Protector arranged the speed of the ship so as to reach Hogg’s Bay just prior to the hour at which the troopships were expected. It was a glorious night, a calm sea. Presently the two white troopships loomed up in the offing, entered the shelter of the bay, and dropped anchor. There were no gun salutes, of course, but from the decks of the Protector soared hundreds of rockets. With bands playing the Protector made a tour round the anchored troopships. Cheers upon cheers rose from her decks, and, before their echoes could be heard, a thousand voices on the troopships cheered in response. Immense flares on shore lit up the sky, and the calm surface of the sea seemed as if on fire. It was an inspiring sight, and one not to be forgotten. The tour round the ships being concluded, boats were lowered from the Protector and visitors conveyed to the troopships.
Farewells took place. Though tempered by the personal regrets of those who were being left behind, their good wishes for their more fortunate comrades were genuine and straight from their hearts. One last toast, “Her Majesty the Queen”; one last song, “Auld Lang Syne.” Back to our boats and on board the Protector. The noise of the windlasses weighing the anchors was heard as the last of us reached the Protector’s decks. The troopships’ whistles resounded deep on the midnight air. The engines pulsed; the troopships moved and gathered speed. The strains of “Rule Britannia” filled our ears, then ceased, as the white ships, phantom-like in the haze, gradually disappeared. We arrived back at Port Adelaide in time for breakfast.
We will not follow the contingent’s history and its doings in Egypt, but I will quote a passage from Lord Wolseley’s dispatch dated June 15, 1885:—
“The Contingent’s work has been so satisfactory that I trust that the noble and patriotic example set by New South Wales may, should occasion arise, be followed by other colonies.”
Lord Wolseley’s hopes have been fully realized.