1905
There was, however, an interpretation of the situation which, though hidden from his eyes, can be read between the lines of the file of correspondence. He could see and could gauge the usefulness of his services and ideas, but his humble-mindedness hid from him the fact that it was his own value that stood in his way. His highly trained administrative faculties immediately grasped all the bearings and possibilities of the problem before him, and he could not resist the desire to improve upon existing methods. This was not what the Department wanted. Although willing to admit the intrinsic merits of his scheme, the authorities were not prepared to put in force such a comprehensive measure of reorganisation; so that while they could honestly say that his "work would serve as a model," they had no option but to discontinue using a tool that was too powerful, too keen, for their purpose. His military rank and his administrative ability made it impossible to employ him in the subordinate position that he coveted.
Retired
Yet another blow was hanging over him. On March 22,1905, he went to London to attend the Memorial Service to His Royal Highness the Duke of Cambridge in Westminster Abbey. At such a gathering he naturally found many friends (more especially as the Duke had been Colonel-in-Chief of the Middlesex Regiment), and, according to one who was amongst the number, it was a pleasure to see how many distinguished men came to greet him, civilians as well as soldiers, and among them men of political standing who knew him more by reputation than in person. This was the last flicker of his public life, for when he returned to the country that evening the intimation of his immediate retirement lay among his correspondence. By contrast to his mood when a few hours earlier he had stood honoured among his peers, this letter seemed a stinging blow, and I can confidently say that he did not expect it. There were still eight months to run before he reached the age of sixty-two, at which point he would (in the event of his not having been promoted to the rank of Lieutenant-General) have had to "retire" under the regulations.
The one thing that we had vaguely dreaded had come to pass. The thing was unthinkable, but it was true—the words in his friend's letter had become prophecy: he was to "have no opportunity of justifying himself," no chance of obliterating the slur that had been cast on his name. His career was at an end, and it had closed a dishonoured career, when to have held one more appointment, however insignificant, would have implied recognition of the facts of the case and compensation for the hasty judgment.
It was some time in the summer of 1905 that the late Sir Lepel Griffin invited Gatacre to sit on the board of the Kordofan Trading Company. We welcomed the new interest. I thought that the pretext for regular visits to London was a desirable thing; I liked to think of his moving amongst busy men, and having something to occupy his mind. There was no idea of making a fortune; we had very little spare capital, and he only invested the small amount necessary to qualify as a Director.
From the first he foresaw the opportunity that might arise of visiting the territory specified in the concession. The prospect attracted him wildly. As the season approached when such a proposition could be seriously entertained, his spirits rose, and he revelled in the idea of starting off for the desert; he took the keenest pleasure in preparing every contrivance for his comfort that his experience of camp-life could suggest; he set about getting books and pamphlets in which he could learn the history of the trade in rubber and the chemical processes of its manufacture.
A telegram which reached us on November 10, asking whether he could be ready to start by the Peninsular and Oriental night mail of the 17th, lifted him into the highest spirits: from that moment he talked of nothing but tents, rifles, and such-like necessities, and thought of nothing but the valuable report that he would prepare for his co-Directors.
To those who have been inclined to blame me for letting him go, I would reply that it still appears to me that any attempt to stop him would have been dictated by selfish motives. He was offered a delightful trip, one that would afford him all those arduous pleasures that his soul loved. Why should I stand in his way? I did desire greatly to accompany him, but in such a short space it would have been impossible to wind up his affairs and so set me free to go.
Up the Nile