* * * * *
When we got into the clearing at Ordasu we halted for an hour, and the 42nd Highlanders coming up with heads erect and shoulders back, moved on into the Bush on either side of the track. Colonel McLeod was old-fashioned in his ideas. I never saw him willingly deploy to the right, or outwards. When at Aldershot he was accustomed to deploy to the left, and would move his battalion from the left up to the right to deploy back again; but there was certainly no more stoical man in the Army when bullets were flying. When he had extended a company, half on each side of the track, he called for the Pipe-Major, and saying, “Follow me,” walked down the path, followed by another company. The resistance soon died away, and the Column moved on in single file towards Coomassie.
Just before it started, Major T. D. Baker[132] came to me and said, “The Chief says you are to take over the Rear guard.” A wounded Marine had just been decapitated by Ashantis, who had crossed the path immediately behind the Headquarters Staff. I protested that I had been walking since 10 a.m. on the 3rd, and to put me on Rear guard would result in my not reaching Coomassie till after dark. I mentioned the name of an officer senior to me for the duty, but Baker said, “No, I suggested that, but Sir Garnet wishes you to do it.” Shortly after we left the clearing we came on the body of a Chief, who had been shot by the 42nd Highlanders, while near him were three slaves who had been decapitated by one of the Chiefs relations, for the Ashantis have a theory that when a great man dies he should be accompanied into the next world by slaves as body-servants.
COMASSIE, 4th FEBRUARY, 1874
GENERAL SIR GARNET WOLSELEY, TO SECRETARY OF STATE FOR WAR. “IT IS WITH THE GREATEST REGRET I HAVE TO REPORT THE DEATH OF LIEUTENANT EYRE, 90TH LIGHT INFANTRY, WHO WAS MORTALLY WOUNDED IN ACTION. I CANNOT REFRAIN FROM STATING WHAT A GREAT LOSS THE ARMY HAS EXPERIENCED IN THE DEATH OF THIS GALLANT OFFICER”
At the southern entrance of Coomassie Lieutenant Maurice,[133] Sir Garnet’s secretary, met me at 9 p.m., and said, “The Chief says you are to take up a line of outposts covering the town.” As the night was pitchy dark, I observed, “Where is the Chief, and where is the enemy supposed to be, and where am I to go?” Maurice replied, “I asked him that, and he observed, ‘Evelyn Wood is sure to know, leave it to him.’” I went away a few hundred yards from where I understood the Headquarters Staff was lying, and, halting close to some huts, sent an Ashanti for clean water; for the stream we had just crossed had been polluted by the bodies of human sacrifices. I had barely fallen asleep when a Staff officer came to me and told me to fall in my men, and proceed to the Palace, which was on fire. I went at once, but the fire was nearly out when we arrived, and I slept till daylight, when I was again summoned, and ordered down to the Coast, with a convoy of sick and wounded.
I left Coomassie on the morning of the 5th February, with the remnants of Russell’s and Wood’s Regiments, and a company of the Rifle Brigade, escorting some 70 wounded and sick Europeans, nearly all the former belonging to the 42nd Highlanders.
Although no serious attack was probable, my charge occasioned me some anxiety. All the wounded who were unable to march were in cots slung on long bamboo poles, carried by eight men, and so in single file, which was the only arrangement of which the path admitted, our line of march extended over nearly two miles.
When Sir Garnet went forward to the Ordah River, the troops accepted cheerfully four days’ rations for six, and thus it came about that on the evening we arrived at Ordasu, where Arthur Eyre was buried, except a small bit of biscuit, the wounded had no rations of any kind. Just as we had lifted the cots of the wounded off the ground and placed them on tripods of bamboos, an impending storm broke, the heavens opening, rain fell as it does only in the tropics, and within ten minutes there were 10 inches of water on the ground.