interned German sea-captain peaked cap of the Thames At last Amara, the town of Abdul Hamid, as the dowry of his Arab wife, nay, wives, for the story is that the great Sultan who would blend his empire married the twin sisters of an Arab Sheikh in a large way. Here soldiers and plenty were in evidence, though mostly in bandages, for it was the hospital centre for cases too serious to move, or cases too light to go to India. And here were depots and details and spare transport and men who could not be maintained with the fighting force, that subsisted so meagrely a hundred miles higher up the river. There was hard fighting afoot, and the men had plenty to say about it. Hard fighting and short commons, and when were more steamers coming? From the piled deck of one of the steamers with wounded, something in bandages, something with two holes for eyes and a face swathed in white, had shouted, "Salaam, Kana Burha," and the vessel had passed on; but it was what the colonel had been longing for: a voice from the old life-nay, a message from his love. The colonel sat with his valise in the little velvetcovered saloon that almost smelt of stale bath-buns, and hoped for the faster steamer that he was to find by-and-by at Amara. Past Qurna, that some one had told the Army was the site of the Garden of Eden, where a narrow gauge railway was painfully beginning amid the marsh; past the hedge-sparrow blue dome of the Tomb of Ezra set in palms and sunset, and sunset, and a memory for all time; past the Arab town of Kil'at Saleh, Kil'at Saleh, and the handsome Sabean women who waved from the latticed verandahs; past empty cargo steamers, now full of sick and wounded, that were doing duty as sick convoy till the hospital steamers should arrive, and on through the narrows and the persistent marshes. It was a slow journey, for the stream was in full was in full flood-the flood that still lasts forty days and forty nights; and though Rattray's Bristol engines in the old steamers were far better than any modern ones, speed against the melted snows of Ararat was beyond At Amara the commandant them. It was as though a had a two-decked stern-wheel lover journeyed to his love in a parliamentary train; and the skipper, the Arab with a head-cloth instead of the gold steamer waiting for him full of drafts for the front, officers and men : a boat that could travel, and was built to skim eam or ride atop the flood. Thirteen of her sisters lay at the bottom of the Bay of Bengal trying to come across from the Irrawaddy, and only the Fallam had got over. shallow and troubled waters sun setting over the ruins of Babylon. Along the banks lay small fleets of commandeered Arab boats that made up the second line transport of that half-equipped army, and clumps of tents, where field ambulances endeavoured to cope with the mass of wounded. Fighting had been severe, and none too successful. Faces at Sheikh Saad showed that clearly. The colonel had inquired after his old battalion, and had discovered from a signal officer, struggling with a field-telegraph line, which bank it was on; for the Army was astride the river trying to get to Kut, now on this side, now by that. Now the country was drier on either bank, and the Fallam, or the "S. 3" in Tigris parlance, passed troops on the march, marching echelons of horses and guns, whose infantry had gone on by boat. Then the steamer battled past the Shrine-of-Ali-in-the-East and its beautiful old plantations that alone in the whole countryside show what trees could do if let alone; past Arab encampments, with the great black house of hair, and the sheikhs sitting in their shade in the "heat of the noon-day sun" as Father Abraham sat; then on to the Shrine-of-Ali-in-theWest, which was a considerable base, where stores and tents occupied the bank, and Arab boats and steam launches lined the banks. And so on past Sheik Saad, which was now to become the advanced base of the Army, and where ordnance and commissariat officers sweated far into the night, and order had not yet been evolved. Here the "S. 3" got orders to run on up to Orah, where all drafts were badly needed, and from whence the sound of guns came down on the evening breeze as the vessel went through the cut in the bridge of boats, and turned her nose with the winding river, till she ran towards the with their blankets, and a The S. 3 ran into the bank bank close to Orah, where large bonfires lit up the scene. Two other steamers with barges of supplies were alongside, and on a long iron barge full of ammunition some gunners were busy passing out boxes of shell to artillery waggons. Long rows of wounded lay on the banks waiting for the supply steamers to be empty and move them down, and a few doctors and attendants were moving among them. Some lightly wounded were making Bovril by a fire; tinned milk in small quantities was available for the Indian soldiers. Now and again the flash of a gun or a bursting shell lit up the sky, and the rattle of small arms came down the bank. The drafts were moving off the steamer and forming up staff officer had evidently some orders for them. The Kana Burha passed over the gang plank, and walked towards the lines of wounded. It was a scene that would impress itself on the memory of any one, and the colonel had as yet seen nothing of the war. He stood wrapt in the sensation of being in the field again and amid such dramatic surroundings; and as he stood a stretcher was carried past, an officer walking by its side. "Good God!" cried a voice. "The Kana. . . . Is that you, colonel; and where on earth have you come from? It was Seaton, the quartermaster of the battalion, a duty in the Indian Army carried out by one of the regimental officers. "I have come up for a day to try and see the battalion. I have just come over in charge of a transport. How are things? Where is the battalion ? " Not much of it left, sir. We've had a bad day; the whole brigade has. I've got the colonel here; trying to get him on the steamer. He is pretty bad. Won't know you, sir. We got into their trenches this morning, but have been counter-attacked three times in force, and driven out. The battalion is hanging on, and I've just come back to try and get some more ammunition and some food of sorts, goor or sugar if I can; the men day. arm, have no chance of cooking. Rum would do 'em good." "Who is doing adjutant?" "Watkins, sir, as in your He has had a biff in the but is carrying on at battalion headquarters. Morris should be in command, but his company is away on the right, and they can't find him. M'Clean was killed this morning, and Brown and Luttrel badly hit. Why can't you take command, sir? The battalion is broken, and the men all over the place. They've had more than flesh and blood can stand. If I can't get up ammunition we shan't stand another rush. I wonder if you could take up a dozen mules with ammunition? Havildar Kesri Singh knows where the headquarters are." So the Kana Burha eagerly trudged off with the havildar and the mules. Kesri Singh had seized him by the hand, and looked up in his face and given one loud cry, "Hamara Colonel Sahib agya, Colonel Sahib agya. Kana Burha agya. Sirkar ki fatteh," and had danced off in front of him. It was not half a mile's trudge to the battalion post, but the ground was rough with furrows and small canal banks, showing through the fitful light of artillery flashes. A feeling of great elevation had seized the colonel. He was going to see his own battalion, all that he cared for in the world save his "My Colonel has come! My Colonel has come! Victory to our Government !" and Morris is by law entitled. But I will go round with pleasure and talk to the men. You must stay and wait for Morris, and see if you can get through to the brigade. You had better not say that I am here if you get the brigade." personal family, broken and I have no status here at all, suffering, shaken but still in being. They arrived after half an hour's walking, passing limping figures and stray mules, and once a man on a horse. Behind a clump of scrub was a group of men round a camp lantern. An officer knelt by a field-telephone box. The colonel put his hand on his shoulder. "Who's in command ? "Major Morris, sir; but I can't get at him. I have got his company, but no one knows where he is. They are out on the right. We are through on the 'phone, but I can only get young Smith. A new boy, sir, but a good 'un. I have touch with all the companies, and they are holding their trenches, but the men are done to a turn. Not a kick, I fear, if the Turk comes on. Could you go round them? get you into some of the trenches pretty easily. Oh, can't you take command?” I can "I cannot take command. Then the brigade came through on the 'phone. "Hulloa, brigade speaking; is that O.C.?" major "O.C. is not here, sir; the colonel has been badly wounded and sent away an hour ago. Major Morris is in command, but is not here yet.” 'Well, the orders are that you hold on at all costs. The whole brigade is out, and not much of it left. The brigadier has gone to divisional headquarters to try and get relief and talk the position over. But do you understand that on no account is there to be any withdrawal ? The Turk must come over you. If there is a mess-up, it can't be helped. You had better give out all orders till Morris turns up. Tell him to call me up when he arrives." Watkins told the colonel what had passed. "I will go round now. You must command, and don't tell or what is left of it is mixed any one that Morris is not here. He may be done in too." Everything was quiet for the moment, and only the occasional flash of a distant howitzer lit up the sky when the colonel and the drill havildar found their way into the shallow communication trench. Not only were these early days of trench warfare, but this front had hardly yet been developed, and the trench was a poor enough protection had the fire been heavy. After traversing a couple of hundred yards, they arrived at the company command post of No. 3 Company. Round about was a huddled group of men, some crouching, some prone. An officer lay on the ground fiddling with a 'phone. It was Makins, once his adjutant in the the earlier days; and the colonel put his hand on his shoulder. "It is your old colonel; I have come to go round the trenches. Can I help you? The officer looked up. 66 'My God, sir! Is that you. Why... but thank God you've come. Half the company has gone west, and No. 1 VOL. CCXVIII.-NO. MCCCXX. up with us. This is all the reserve there is anywhere. Watkins told me to scrape together what I could. I'm giving 'em a little rest before I try and shake them out, but it's all the worst of the stuff here; the better lot are up in the trench. There are some few good men here, too, but mostly more or less wounded. But they've not had a dog's chance, sir. We've been cruelly hammered. Nobody's fault, I know; but Indian soldiers are not meant to be hammered so hard. Damned if I know how they stick it. Look at some of these poor devils, dog tired, and some had cold feet at the beginning." And he flashed his torch along a knot of kneeling and squatting men. |