ek upon. tervals. convey. y of the

letely to

om were ritten to think it ick, and all, the

a supere list of baltern.

romising notable cyclone.

nd grew a storm se early.

nt me on

_nguished at home is wake. so terrific

out to try As I was n object, standing ould now moment

ees to the ay home,

fects of a nd barred ngaged in

called at

came conr and face

not more this short

glad to say since 1882

A DESTRUCTIVE CYCLONE

5

1852]
distance, as I was only able to move a few steps at a time whenever
the lightning showed me the way. It was necessary to be careful, as
the road was raised, with a deep ditch on either side; several trees
had already been blown down, and lay across it, and huge branches
were being driven through the air like thistle-down. I found extreme
difficulty in keeping my feet, especially at the cross-roads, where I was
more than once all but blown over. At last I reached my house, but
even then my struggles were not quite at an end. It was a very long
time before I could gain admittance. The servant who had been
carrying the lantern had arrived, and, missing me, imagined that I
must have returned to the house at which I had dined. The men with
whom I chummed, thinking it unlikely that I should make a second
attempt to return home, had carefully fastened all the doors, momen-
tarily expecting the roof of the house to be blown off. I had to con-
tinue hammering and shouting for a long time before they heard and
admitted me, thankful to be comparatively safe inside a house.

By morning the worst of the storm was over, but not before great damage had been done. The Native bazaar was completely wrecked, looking as if it had suffered a furious bombardment, and great havoc had been made amongst the European houses, not a single verandah or outside shutter being left in the station. As I walked to the mess, I found the road almost impassable from fallen trees; and dead birds, chiefly crows and kites, were so numerous that they had to be carried off in cartloads. How I had made my way to my bungalow without accident the night before was difficult to imagine. Even the column against which I had stumbled was levelled by the fury of the blast. This column had been raised a few years before to the memory of the officers and men of the 1st Troop, 1st Brigade, Bengal Horse Artillery, who were killed in the disastrous retreat from Kabul in 1841. It was afterwards rebuilt.

Dum-Dum in ruins was even more dreary than before the cyclone, and I felt as if I could not possibly continue to live there much longer. Accordingly I wrote to my father, begging him to try and get me sent to Burma; but he replied that he hoped soon to get command of the Peshawar division, and that he would then like me to join him. Thus, though my desire to quit Dum-Dum was not to be immediately gratified, I was buoyed up by the hope that a definite limit had now been placed to my service in that, to me, uninteresting part of India, and my restlessness and discontent disappeared as if by magic.

In time of peace, as in war, or during a cholera epidemic, a soldier's moral condition is infinitely more important than his physical surroundings, and it is in this respect, I think, that the subaltern of the present day has an advantage over the youngster of forty years ago. The life of a young officer during his first few months of exile, before he has fallen into the ways of his new life and made friends for himself, can

[1852

he feeling g; and he

friends at d not but I his chief

an eternity

ess was apt

o going to ng stranger y case. I years. My ers arrived. nd field of my father, chance of

, and early

s primitive -ars before.

ile officers, river route gressionearly three v traversed as Benares which took • Allahabad having been

abad I was an old friend st time that Dial. I was -st smoking a men who still sole duty of pipe for his

ce, where I at time com

BENGAL HORSE ARTILLERY

7

1852]
manded by an officer of the name of Palmer, who had only recently
attained the rank of Brigadier-General, though he could not have been
less than sixty-eight years of age, being of the same standing as my
father.

From Cawnpore I went to Meerut, and there came across, for the first time, the far-famed Bengal Horse Artillery, and made the acquaintance of a set of officers who more than realized my expectations regarding the wearers of the much-coveted jacket, association with whom created in me a fixed resolve to leave no stone unturned in the endeavour to become a horse gunner. Like the Cavalry and Infantry of the East India Company's service, the Artillery suffered somewhat from the employment of many of its best officers on the staff and in civil appointments; the officers selected were not seconded or replaced in their regiments. This was the case in a less degree, no doubt, in the Horse Artillery than in the other branches, for its esprit was great, and officers were proud to belong to this corps d'élite. It certainly was a splendid service; the men were the pick of those recruited by the East India Company, they were of magnificent physique, and their uniform was singularly handsome. The jacket was much the same as that now worn by the Royal Horse Artillery, but instead of the busby they had a brass helmet covered in front with leopard skin, surmounted by a long red plume which drooped over the back like that of a French Cuirassier. This, with white buckskin breeches and long boots, completed a uniform which was one of the most picturesque and effective I have ever seen on a parade-ground.

The metalled highway ended at Meerut, and I had to perform the remainder of my journey to Peshawar, a distance of 600 miles, in a palankin, or doolie.

This manner of travelling was tedious in the extreme. Starting after dinner, the victim was carried throughout the night by eight men, divided into reliefs of four. The whole of the eight were changed at stages averaging from ten to twelve miles apart. The baggage was also conveyed by coolies, who kept up an incessant chatter, and the procession was lighted on its way by a torch-bearer, whose torch consisted of bits of rag tied round the end of a stick, upon which he continually poured the most malodorous of oils. If the palankin-bearers were very good, they shuffled along at the rate of about three miles an hour, and if there were no delays, forty or forty-five miles could be accomplished before it became necessary to seek shelter from the sun in one of the dak-bungalows, or rest-houses, erected by Government at convenient intervals along all the principal routes. In these bungalows a bath could be obtained, and sorely it was needed after a journey of thirteen or fourteen hours at a level of only a few inches above an exceedingly dusty road. As to food, the khansamah, like 'mine host' in the old country, declared himself at the outset prepared to provide

[1852 e traveller invariably

th,' which illed, and

At dinner

nied by an journey by hill-station

Himalayan n Septem

ys I spent

her troops 1 with the

it was a

and there ly ordered

, we hired

nding our d, to our preparing e inquiries about, we or want of and it was ssistance. end, each ir way to

-un away,

re to proto carry e amusing aparthala, ussing the mkins and tween our I on foot. mole party 1 to disapdies. We

come on a while we

two men trudged on beside the buggy for another ten or twelve miles. It was a heavy, sandy road, and three stages were about as much as the horse could manage.

Soon after daybreak next morning we reached the Bias river. Crossing by a bridge of boats, we found on the other side a small oneroomed house with a verandah running round it, built for the use of the European overseer in charge of the road. On matters being explained, this man agreed to turn out. The ladies and children were put inside, and my cousin and I spent the day in the verandah; in the evening, with the assistance of the overseer, we were able to get a sufficient number of bearers to carry us all on to Mian Mir without further adventure. In the course of conversation we found that one of the ladies was the wife of Lieutenant Donald Stewart,* of the 9th Bengal Infantry, and that she and her friend were returning to join their respective husbands after spending the summer months at Simla. This meeting was the beginning of a close friendship with Sir Donald and Lady Stewart, which has lasted to the present day.

At Mian Mir (the military cantonment of Lahore) I stayed a few days with another half-sister, and from there, as the weather was beginning to get cooler, I travelled day and night. One evening about eight o'clock I was disappointed at not having come across the usual rest-house; lights could be seen, however, at no great distance, and I proceeded towards them; they turned out to be the camp fires of a Cavalry regiment which was halting there for the night. Being half famished, and fearing that my craving for food was not likely to be gratified unless someone in the camp would take pity upon my forlorn condition, I boldly presented myself at the first tent I came across. The occupant came out, and, on hearing the strait I was in, he with kindly courtesy invited me to enter the tent, saying, 'You are just in time to share our dinner.' My host turned out to be Major Crawford Chamberlain,† commanding the 1st Irregular Cavalry, the famous Skinner's Horse, then on its way to Peshawar. A lady was sitting at the table-Mrs. Chamberlain-to whom I was introduced; I spent a very pleasant evening, and in this way commenced another equally agreeable and lasting friendship.

CHAPTER III.
CHAPT

EVEN the longest journey must come to an end at last, and early in November I reached Peshawar. My father, who was then in his sixtyninth year, had just been appointed to command the division with the

* Now Field Marshal Sir Donald Stewart, Bart., G.C.B., G.C.S.I. Now General Crawford Chamberlain, C.S.I., a brother of General Sir Neville Chamberlain.