The History of Lumsden's Horse. Various

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      SERGT. DALE

      MAXIM-GUN CONTINGENT

      This is one picture of life in a troopship under the happiest conditions. There is another side to the picture, of which we may get glimpses in the experiences of men in Company B, to whom Calcutta’s citizens gave a hearty ‘God speed’ when they embarked in the ‘Ujina’ at Kidderpore Docks on March 3. Before she had cast off from her moorings the troopers had been called to dinner, and that feast was a revelation to them of all they were leaving behind. One corporal described it as ‘a sort of stew in stable-buckets, too filthy for anything’; but that may have been merely a little ebullition of aristocratic prejudice. Nevertheless, he and two comrades hurried on shore, and drove as fast as they could to Madan’s in the town, where they invested 200 rupees in sundry things which they regarded as necessaries for their sustenance during the voyage. They were back in time to hear the Lieutenant-Governor’s and Bishop Welldon’s speeches, and then to join in a parting cheer for their old adjutant, Captain Martin, who only left them to go on shore as the ‘Ujina’ cast off. The subsequent proceedings of that day are not recorded in the corporal’s diary, who contents himself with noting that he ‘had some tea—no milk, and awfully sweet.’ When he awoke next morning, after a restless night on bare planks between decks, the thought of creature-comforts must have been uppermost still, for he was aware of ‘gnawing pains—result of nothing to eat,’ and his morning reflections begin with the disjointed phrases: ‘No knives and forks. No salt. Those who had penknives were lucky. Fortunately we all had fingers.’ Was there in those last words a prophetic suggestion that some of them might not even have fingers for such uses after a while? If so, the gloomy foreboding passed without record, giving place to action, for at 6 o’clock that morning the corporal whose notes throw a glimmer of light on much of the darker side that is too often ignored, found himself in charge of a stable fatigue, wading at the heels of the horses in a foul, dark, unventilated drain about thirty inches wide, from which nothing ran off. He mentions incidentally that the four unfortunate men who had to clear away this accumulated filth were ‘very indignant’; and from this we may gather that they used adjectives to express their opinion of that first stable fatigue on board ship. It does not read like the best possible means of promoting a healthy appetite, but when called to breakfast three hours later they looked with dismay at a loaf that was to last each of them the whole day, and when one small tin of brawn was put before them for division among sixteen men at a table, they came to the conclusion that it ‘seemed very short commons indeed.’ Some of the men found that their carefully-arranged kits had been thrown aside in a confused heap to make room for native followers, and they ventured on a mild remonstrance, but were told, ‘You must look after your own things; you don’t have your bearers here.’ That obvious truth had impressed itself upon them very forcibly some hours earlier, while they were doing stable fatigue, and it needed no rubbing in. Other trials followed, as we gather from a brief but expressive note: ‘Dinner at 1.0. Soup and a messy stew in buckets, as before. Tried to get some salt unsuccessfully, and, returning, found the stew all gone. Beer was served out, which I didn’t drink. Gave my bottle away and drank water, hot and cloudy, out of a bath-tin. No knives or forks yet. Through our mess-room, while we feed, files a long procession of syces, transport wallahs, servants, Candaharis; sometimes a herd of goats, and always Lascars, carrying ropes, hoses, or buckets. Now they have kicked us out from where we were making ourselves comfortable below, and I miss much a corner, even such as my horse has, where I could put my things in safety. At night we throw our straw mattresses wherever we can find a vacant space, and scramble in confusion for our kits out of a heap of exactly similar ones. We would gladly have paid our own expenses for a little more comfort. The last straw came at 7.30, when the “cook-house” bugle went again, but the chef said, “No orders to cook anything more,” and shut СКАЧАТЬ