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now, under the hot glare of his unaccustomed sword with a flourish and, in a terrific voice, shouted out "Zinhar" (Attention.)

the morning sun, the bearers were advancing in open order on the town, collecting the casualties supposed to have been left by troops which had preceded them in the assault. Presently the long line of stretchers was halted, and the orderlies knelt down beside them attending to the "casualties " which had been "planted" in readiness for their approach. M'William had gone far out on the flank to prepare for the next movement, leaving his youngest officer, Lieutenant Negib Aziz, in command of the centre. Suddenly from the outskirts of the town a grey pony came whirling towards them in a cloud of dust. His rider appeared to be leaning forward at a dangerous angle, his arms outstretched, and clawing helplessly as if trying to grasp the pony's nose. Even in the distance the sounds of his shouting reached the ears of the native officer. Lieutenant Aziz was puzzled. He was newly come from the fraternal atmosphere of the American Medical College at Beyrout, and the unsympathetic attitude of his senior officers alarmed him. This horseman was clearly a British officer. Some action was necessary. What ought he to do? The pace of the pony was incredible. He was almost upon them. The shouts became articulate. They were curses. The officer was angry. Action was imperative. Springing to his feet, Lieutenant Aziz drew

The reaction was instantaneous. A long line of orderlies sprang from the ground like jacks from so many boxes. The pony, with a suddenness made possible by years training on the polo field, stopped in in his stride and bounded to the left. The rider shot forward from the saddle, and landed with a crash on the point of his shoulder ten feet in front of the nearest stretcher.

"My God! he's killed!" thought the terrified Aziz, and rushed forward to pick him up.

M'William had seen the accident from afar, and now came pounding over the sand to rescue the victim from the danger of too many willing hands. He was always at his best when faced with a professional problem. He dismounted from his pony and handed the reins to one of the orderlies.

"Oh, 80 it's Bimbashi Parkinson-Smythe," he said quietly, and, motioning the others to stand aside, he bent over the prostrate figure. After a short examination he sat back on his heels. "Stunned, and a broken collar-bone," he remarked to Lieutenant Aziz. "May possibly be a slight concussion. Bring me a haversack; I think I had better set this myself. Tell the Yuzbashi to close up on the centre. We'll take the Inspector to the Civil Hospital and leave him

there in the shade until the sun goes down. I don't want to carry him all the way to his quarters in this heat. Never mind about the pony; he will go back to his stable all right."

stead. He did not stop to make inquiries, but pressed on. Inside the compound the crowd was thicker. Many of the people had blood upon their clothing. The civil doctor came running from the office building. He was waving his arms and shouting in French and Arabic and English at the Mamur, Abdulla Effendi Tantowi, who followed in his wake making large soothing gestures. M'William had no idea what it was all about, but he took hold of the situation firmly. Ignoring the excited physician, he addressed himself to the Mamur.

In a surprisingly short time everything was ready; the unconscious Parkinson-Smythe, secured for the moment against further damage, was lifted carefully on to a stretcher and borne slowly towards the town. The streets on the outskirts seemed strangely deserted, and M'William began, for the first time, to wonder what had made the Inspector's horse bolt. "Abdulla Effendi," he said As they approached the market- quietly, "get a few police and place, near which lay the Civil clear every one out of the Hospital, the murmur of many compound. Then put a guard voices filled the air. M'William on the gate, and let no one was puzzled. The orderlies in without my permission. It looked apprehensive. Turning seems that we have some the corner they came immedi- casualties here. Well, I have ately upon a vast crowd. The brought my men out for trainwhole town seemed to seemed to be ing and, by Gad, they'll get it. gathered in the market square. As soon as you have got this The detachment hesitated and place clear I'll march in the hung back. "Lead on," called Hospital Section and open out out M'William sharply, and for action. And now, sir," rode ahead. The throng opened he finished, turning to the out a lane before him. There agitated Syrian doctor, "if was no sign of disorder-merely you will calm yourself and intense excitement. The arrival attend to business I shall be

of the Medical Detachment greatly obliged."
seemed to have a calming
influence. As he rode between
the lines of people, M'William
heard his own name and God's
combined in many a pious
whisper.

Near the entrance of the hospital compound he overtook four men carrying a bloodstained figure on a native bed

VOL. CCXXII.-NO. MCCCXLI.

as

Some hours later, M'William was putting on his coat to return to the Mess for some food, Abdulla Effendi Tantowi entered the office. All the casualties had been dressed and cared for; the crowd had dispersed, and the men of the Field Hospital Section, after

B 2

their period of intensive training, were packing up and preparing to depart. The Mamur saluted and beamed upon the weary surgeon. "Splendid work, sir," he said in Arabic, "absolutely splendid."

"Look here, Abdulla Effendi," asked M'William, "what the deuce was it all about? I have been too busy to ask any questions."

The Mamur shot a sly glance towards the hut where Parkinson-Smythe, now conscious and irritable, was awaiting the hour when he might with safety be transferred to his own house.

"It was one of the newly licensed butchers, Excellence," he whispered, speaking for once in English. "Some of these Sudanese are so ignorant! The matter was most carefully explained to him, but nevertheless he must have failed to understand that his licence was for sheep and cattle only."

Abdulla Effendi did not actually wink, but he went very near it.

A few days ago I visited M'William in the dignified consulting-room in Harley Street where he now practises the arts which, in former days, he applied, no less successfully, amidst the makeshifts of tropical Africa. Outside, the sleet was lashing against the

windows, but inside the quiet room a beautiful fire burned brightly in the grate, and all was warmth and comfort. His work was over for the moment, and we sat in deep armchairs on each side of the blaze with middle-aged contentment in our hearts. As my eyes wandered over this new setting for my old friend, a native sword hanging in its red leather scabbard appeared to me to be out of place among the paintings and cabinets by which it was surrounded. I remarked upon it to my host.

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KITE BALLOONS WITH THE FLEET.

BY JOHN MACKWORTH.

SOME description has already been given of the way in which kite balloons first came to be used with ships at sea. The combination was an original one, and the success of the extemporised arrangements was sufficiently striking to open a vision of further possibilities. To some, at any rate, it was evident that if the kite balloon could be sufficiently improved, it might become a very valuable accessory to the Fleet. At that time-1915-aerial reconnaissance at sea was almost wholly lacking. Seaplanes were capricious in their behaviour, and, with the possible exception of Campania, there was no aircraft carrier capable of keeping station with the Fleet at battle speed. Our own airships were small, few in number, and helpless in rough weather, while, on the other hand, the Germans had Zeppelins; imperfect, it is true, but far more airworthy than anything we possessed. They could, weather permitting, keep our ships in sight while their own lay far over the horizon, thus putting us at a serious disadvantage, and turning the pursuit of their Fleet into a game of blind man's buff.

The kite balloon never claimed to be a complete reply to the Zeppelin. What it did do was to provide an enor

mously extended field of vision, coupled with reliable communication, which last was a point of very great importance.

But to produce a balloon capable of towing with the Fleet was a matter not altogether simple. Conditions in the Northern waters were far different from those in Gallipoli, where the first trials were made. Great winds boomed aloft, buffeting the balloons with the weight of many tons, and in the early experiments the cables snapped like carrots. One can picture the risks by remembering how even so small a thing as an umbrella can assert itself in a gale, and how many old ladies have been saved from disaster only by the runaway providentially turning inside out at the last moment. A balloon is larger than many umbrellas: a huge thing of rubbered fabric, comparable in size to a good-sized house. It rides far overhead, where there are no obstacles to temper the force of the wind, and, moreover, has to meet not only this, but the added speed of the ship itself, if the latter is towing against it; while the cable, which bears the whole strain, is a stranded steel wire, no thicker than a man's little finger.

As a general rule, the greater the altitude, the higher is the

wind, though this is not invariable. With easterly breezes the reverse may be the case, and the wind-speed on deck be actually the greater. But with the westerly currents common in these isles, it is a safe assumption that, at a thousand feet, the deck speed will be increased by 15 or 20 knots.

This was a point which the mariner, standing in the partial shelter of his bridge, did not always appreciate; and there were times when he questioned the judgment of the balloon officer in refusing to send up observers. There was only one way of convincing him on such occasions, and that was to induce him to make the trip himself.

To be towed thus by a fast warship is an experience not easily forgotten. So long as the surface craft is steaming down wind, the conditions are strangely restful. Even with a half gale following, the balloon only lies out ahead of the ship, and the wind force is reduced to a gentle breeze. Looking down on the white-fringed vessel below, it seems pleasant to be removed from all the spray and tumult.

Pleasant enough it is till the ship alters course. Then comes a change. The wind, which has been humming musically in the rigging, suddenly takes a shriller note. The dangling side-guys slope astern, and the car gives an ominous swing. The sounds in the cordage rise like a syren, from a hum to a whistle, and from a whistle to a scream.

Every line, block, and rope adds its voice to the pandemonium; the handling guys on either side stand out like solid bars, and the long curve of the cable flattens and exudes an oily sweat. The balloon crouches under the strain, and, recovering itself, roars through the wind like a mad thing; while the uninitiated observer, with streaming eyes and probably minus his cap, clings to the side of the car, and waits for something to carry away.

In short, the first experience is not all joy; yet granting (as with a modern balloon is the case) that the system is adequate to standing the strain, there is no cause for apprehension. The materials are of tremendous strength, and the car is comfortable and protected by a tightly-stretched covering of impermeable fabric. Moreover, through all the racket of the elements, the balloon, once settled on its course, rides with a steadiness that is almost uncanny, so that in the roughest weather good observation is possible.

It is when the monster is brought near the deck that it is apt to become refractory. To see a balloon hauled in on a windy day reminds one of a groom trying to hold a plunging horse with a headstall. Yet, like a horse, a balloon can be "humoured "; it all depends who is in charge.

But at best the last hundred feet are apt to be trying, and even the hardened stomachs of sailors have been known to

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