Cambo is situated two or three miles distant from Fife Ness, the extreme eastern point of the county of Fife. It is now easily accessible by the railway skirting the northern shore of the Firth of Forth, connecting Thornton Junction and St. Andrews, by way of Anstruther and Crail. But at that time the railway was not completed further than Anstruther on the one side and St. Andrews on the other, and Cambo was about eight or nine miles from either place. Starting from Edinburgh on the morning of the day fixed for the wedding, Captain Wauchope should easily have arrived at Cambo in the forenoon, but a protracted snowstorm of several days had completely blocked railways and roads. Thinking he would be more likely to get a conveyance to carry him to his destination if he went by St. Andrews, he took that instead of the route to Anstruther; but on arriving at that ancient city, he was chagrined to find that the roads were so completely blocked with snow that no one would venture the journey for him. Taking his luggage to the Royal Hotel, he tried all his persuasive powers with Mr. Davidson, the genial host, to get a carriage, or even a dogcart, ready for him without delay. But the storm still raged, and he was told that the roads were quite impassable either for driving or riding, and he would require to remain where he was for the night. 'But,' said the would-be and now desperate Benedict, 'I must get to Cambo, as I am to be married to-night.' The hotelkeeper assured him that in the circumstances it was impossible, but promised to do the best he could for him the next morning if the weather moderated. At length, convinced that nothing more could be done, the disappointed swain was obliged to bow to the inevitable, and eat his solitary dinner with what resignation he could command. It was a severe trial of patience, but there was nothing else for it, and so he remained overnight in the friendly shelter of the 'Royal,' in the hope that he might get release the following day. Sir Thomas Erskine, meanwhile, expecting the bridegroom to come by way of Anstruther, where the roads happened not to be so badly blocked, had sent a carriage with the young bride to meet him there. But no Wauchope appeared, and the young lady had to return home without tidings of her lover. The disappointment of all may be better imagined than described, and the wedding was of course postponed sine die. The following morning the storm had somewhat abated, but the snow-drift still lay deep on the roads, making them quite impassable for wheeled vehicles. Davidson, true to his word, however, gave him the best horse in his stable, repacked his luggage in carpet-bags slung across the back of another, and with a groom in attendance Wauchope courageously faced the elements to meet his bride. It was a toilsome business, and not without danger. At Browhill, some two miles from St. Andrews, the block was so deep that they were compelled to make a detour, or 'a flank movement,' as he afterwards described it, across the fields, but in doing so they came to grief. The horse which Wauchope rode stumbled and fell through the accumulated snow into a deep ditch, where it was well-nigh smothered, and the combined efforts of Wauchope and groom utterly failed to extricate the poor animal. At length assistance was procured, a number of farm servants from the neighbourhood giving willing help, and after a good deal of exertion it was at length got out, while the groom, wiping the perspiration from his brow, declared, 'This is terrible work, captain; it's worse than Egypt yet!' The remainder of the nine-mile journey was completed in safety. Love had triumphed. A warm welcome greeted the belated bridegroom at Cambo, and though 'one day after date,' the marriage cheque was duly honoured!
The hopes of his friends at home that he might now give up active service, and become a local county magnate, were not, however, to be realised. Captain Wauchope, accompanied by his young wife, returned to Egypt a few weeks after their marriage, to take up his military duties with the Black Watch; and there, in the quaint old Oriental city of Cairo, they spent together the first and, alas, the last year of their married life.
Life in Cairo
Perhaps no other town under the sun has so many different characteristics as Cairo, and certainly few places afford such strong contrasts. It is at one and the same time an official capital, a city of immemorial antiquity, a garrison town, a health resort, an Oriental centre, and the Paris of the Dark Continent. Half the hidden charm of Cairo and its surroundings, it has been said, consists of the strongly incongruous sights that meet an observant eye: the modern woman leaning on her bicycle, and steadfastly looking at the unchanging eyes of the Sphinx, or a laughing party of officers and Americans in the shadow of the Great Pyramid, or among the tombs of the caliphs, its Oriental bazaar crowded with British soldiers and sailors: an old world and a new. Chief among the attractions of Cairo is its climate, combining almost continuous sunshine, comparative warmth, and an air of pure and tonic qualities.
Mrs. Wauchope resided during these months at the Grand Hotel, within comparatively easy distance of Kass-el-Nil barracks, where the captain's daily duties lay, and amid new surroundings found much to interest her, while she materially helped him in his work among the men of his regiment.
Unfortunately, though the climate as a rule is excellent during the greater part of the year, sanitary arrangements and modes of living were not then, whatever they may be now, such as to prevent the evils to which most Eastern cities are subject. Cholera, one of the scourges of the East, broke out in Cairo among the Copts in the summer of 1883, and, spreading among the better classes of society, even found its way among the British soldiers. Their removal from Cairo for a time was considered absolutely necessary; but before this could be effected, the Black Watch had suffered considerably from the epidemic. As soon as possible, however, cholera-camps were formed at Suez in July, where the greater part of the regiment remained till the beginning of September. During this time Captain Wauchope, with the rank of brigade-major, was left in charge of the Kass-el-Nil barracks with a small detachment; and surrounded as they were with an epidemic which was then cutting down hundreds of poor natives, without adequate means of relieving the distress, he was much moved by what he saw, and did his utmost to help. His first care was of course for the soldiers under his command. They did not altogether escape, and in a number of cases that occurred he was assiduous in his attention. Regardless of danger to himself, he would go back and forward between the hospital and the barracks, giving all the comfort and material assistance that were required.
But it was not merely in his co-operation with medical men and nurses that Wauchope's aid was given: he was a valued co-worker with the chaplain, assisting him in visiting and addressing meetings. The Rev. John Mactaggart, who was then acting with the 42nd in Egypt, says, 'He was always ready to aid me, and willingly responded to any reasonable request for money on behalf of the men, such as in helping to defray expenses incurred in holding social, temperance, or religious meetings.' 'I remember,' he continues, 'in the summer of 1883, the cholera, after raging for weeks among the native population, attacked the British troops. As a precautionary measure, these were dispersed and located at considerable distances from Cairo, the Black Watch being sent to the brackish lake near Suez. Captain Wauchope's sympathetic nature was deeply stirred by the many sad sights around him in Cairo, where he remained through it all with a small company of the regiment. Two of his men were stricken down, one immediately after the other, with the fell disease, and not being able myself to attend to them at once, he was full of anxiety about them, and could not rest till he got me to see them at the barracks, quite heedless of danger to himself.'
To many a poor fellow he was throughout all this trying time a friend indeed, counselling, helping, and encouraging wherever he had the opportunity.
At the evening voluntary meetings in the barracks, too, he frequently took a part with the chaplain in the religious services. His consistent manly conduct and the quiet, unobtrusive profession of his faith at this time, not only endeared him to many, but gave him a wonderful influence for good which it is difficult fully to estimate.