Immediately afterwards what became popularly known as “the Russian Scare” took place in Australia. Our Government instructed the acting Commandant, Major Jervois, to mobilize our military forces and to take up their war positions without delay. They further gave instructions to make a final selection of the site for the construction of the Fort near Glenelg, the immediate preparation of the plans, and the acquisition of the land required. A cable was dispatched to our military adviser in London, then General Harding-Stewart, to place at once on order the armament for the fort, which it had been decided should consist of two 9.2 and two 6-inch breech-loading guns, mounted on hydro-pneumatic gun-carriages, the latest up-to-date ordnance approved of by the home government for coastal defence purposes throughout the Empire.
The mobilization was duly carried out. A couple of days after the concentration of the forces had been completed, and the night before the arrival of our new Commandant, I met with a severe accident. An infantry camp had been formed at Glenelg to protect the main road to Adelaide. Major Jervois had arranged for an alarm to take place early the next morning with a view of testing how far the commanding officers of the several zones of the defence had grasped their respective duties. The Governor had paid a visit to the infantry camp at Glenelg that afternoon, and had remained to take a light evening meal at the officers’ mess. It was a stirring time. Jervois and myself were the only two staff officers available. We had the assistance of three or four of the instructional officers. Within three days the whole of the members of our forces were assembled at the war stations as provided for in our Defence Scheme, covering the probable enemy landing places from Glenelg along the coast to the mouth of the Port River and the approaches to the city.
After satisfying myself that the officers entrusted with the defence of the Glenelg zone understood their instructions for the alarm, I started off riding down the coast towards Fort Glanville, intending to visit the commanding officers in charge of the other sections, with the same object in view. Our horses, my own and those of my orderly officer, had been put up at the Old Pier Hotel at Glenelg. It was dark when we mounted, and, knowing the townships well, I cut across several vacant allotments instead of following the road. Suddenly I felt—as I was cantering across one of these allotments—as if the devil himself had gripped my face. I remembered no more till about a couple of hours afterwards my senses came back to me. My face was quite a picture. Some person had put up a clothes-line during the afternoon across the vacant allotment. The clothes-line happened to be a piece of fencing wire. I had cantered right into it and it caught me just above the upper lip and below my nose. That I have, since that day, been blessed with a nose of my own is quite a miracle. I can assure you that when I got hold of the tip of it I could lift it quite easily from my face.
Some kind doctor attended to it at the Pier Hotel, and, with the aid of many stitches and good old sticking-plaster, dressed the wound temporarily. The rest of my face was swollen and I was sore all over from bumping the hard ground, as I fell, when I was dragged backwards off my horse by the wire. However, I was much too anxious to get on with my work to cry “Halt.” I couldn’t ride, but I ordered a buggy from the hotel and moved on. As I reached the commanding officers of the successive sections along the coast I created somewhat of a sensation. I was not surprised. I presented a sorry figure, at any rate as far as my face was concerned. However, I satisfied myself that they had mastered their instructions, and that they would carry them out to the best of their ability.
When nearing Fort Glanville I left the main road, which ran just inside the sand-dunes and was in a very bad condition, for the beach. The beach was good going. Arriving close to the fort I struck inland by a track between the dunes. I felt happier; in a few minutes I would reach the Fort. But my troubles were not over by any means. The young fellow who was driving me was a stranger to those parts. I was not sure myself of the track we were taking. It was the custom to spread seaweed on the track over places where the sand was too loose and the going too heavy. As we moved along it we came to a particularly dark spot. The lad hesitated to drive on. I couldn’t see very well. I took the dark spot to be a patch of seaweed, and told him to go on. We had taken the wrong track. It was not a patch of seaweed, but a big dark hole, and into it horse, buggy and our precious selves fell. Extricating ourselves from the mess, satisfying ourselves that no bones were broken, shaking out the sand from our ears and hair and off my poor nose and face, I walked off to the Fort to get assistance for my mate and the horse and buggy. I hadn’t been long in my quarters when the bugles sounded the alarm, and the commanding officer of the troops attached to the Fort, who had been kindly attending to my numerous bruises, left me to carry out his duty. I got my old Irish servant to mix me a strong whisky toddy (I don’t remember ever in my life having a drink which I enjoyed so much) and went to bed.
I was glad to hear next morning from Major Jervois, who came to see me, that the commanding officers had successfully carried out the task set them. He was much amused at my personal appearance. Two days afterwards Colonel Owen arrived. I was patched up enough to be able to ride, and accompanied him on his first tour of inspection. He had the unique experience of arriving in his command and finding the whole of the forces of the colony assembled together in the vicinity of his headquarters, Adelaide. Two more days and the scare was over. The troops dispersed to their respective districts.
It was about this time that an event happened which greatly agitated the social life of Adelaide. The wife of a Victorian country resident had arrived in Adelaide and had taken a house in the city. She was good-looking and charming. She appeared to be quite well off. Her house became a pleasant resort. She entertained well. She delighted in giving excellent supper parties. She was quite a Bohemian. Her invitations included young and old, married and single. After a short time she told her friends that she had got divorced from her husband and that she intended to make Adelaide her home for a time.
One of the leading young men fell in love with her—or at least thought he did—and went so far, she gave out, as to ask her to be his wife. It was evident to those who knew him well that if he had asked her to be his wife it had probably been after one of the jolly supper parties. At any rate, if he had done so, he soon repented and told her so. She was not to be denied, so she took steps to bring a breach of promise action against him. Not content with this, she set to work to worry him and his friends as well. In fact, she succeeded in worrying him so much that one day, in an ill-advised moment, he made a complaint to the police to the effect that the lady in question really kept a house to which they should pay special attention. The police had to take the matter up, but they found it difficult to get sufficient evidence to prove their case. Finally, one night, after one of the supper-parties, a hansom cab driver who had been ordered to call for one of the guests arrived at the house drunk and created a scene. It was the opportunity for the police and they laid a charge against her.
The case came on before the court. Evidence was given against her, and she was called upon for her defence. She quietly told the magistrate that as she had been charged with keeping a certain house she would ask for time to prepare her defence. She further said she was preparing a list of names of the married men, well known in Adelaide, who had often been her guests at her supper-parties, and that she felt sure that when the magistrate read the names on the list he would never convict her. We bachelors had a joyful time at the expense of the married men. As the case had been adjourned for three days, there was a long interval of suspense for many of them, wondering whether their name would appear in that “black list.” The morning came when the case was to be resumed. To the surprise of all and the extreme joy of the married men in particular, she failed to appear in court. Inquiries were made by the police, and it was found that she had left Adelaide the previous evening. Who had made it worth her while to disappear was never known. She had, however, made out the list, which the Police Commissioner received that afternoon by post. I got a look at it myself afterwards privately, and I was wicked enough, I suppose, to be sorry that it wasn’t published.