General Gatacre
by Lady Beatrix Wickens Davey Gatacre · English · Gutenberg #41788 · 485,393 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: General Gatacre
Author: Lady Beatrix Wickens Davey Gatacre
Release date: January 6, 2013 [eBook #41788]
Most recently updated: October 23, 2024
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GENERAL GATACRE ***
[Illustration: Cover]
[Frontispiece: Major-General Sir William Gatacre, K.C.B., D.S.O.]
GENERAL GATACRE
THE STORY OF THE LIFE AND SERVICES OF
SIR WILLIAM FORBES GATACRE, K.C.B., D.S.O.
1843-1906
BY BEATRIX GATACRE
WITH PORTRAITS, MAPS, AND ILLUSTRATIONS
What I aspired to be
And was not, comforts me.
R. B.
LONDON JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W. 1910
PRINTED BY
HAZELL, WATSON AND VINEY, LD.,
LONDON AND AYLESBURY.
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO
TWO FRIENDS
WITHOUT WHOSE SYMPATHY AND ASSISTANCE
IT WOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN WRITTEN
{vii}
Assured of worthiness, we do not dread
Competitors; we rather give them hail
And greeting in the lists where we may fail:
Must, if we bear an aim beyond the head!
My betters are my masters; purely fed
By their sustainment I likewise shall scale
Some rocky steps between the mount and vale;
Meanwhile the mark I have, and I will wed.
So that I draw the breath of finer air,
Station is naught, nor footways laurel-strewn,
Nor rivals tightly belted for the race.
God-speed to them! My place is here or there;
My pride is that among them I have place:
And thus I keep the instrument in tune.
GEORGE MEREDITH.
{ix}
PREFACE
The main object in laying this book before the public is to provide an
authentic narrative of Sir William Gatacre's work in South Africa. At
the time of his recall no despatch giving the reason for this step was
published, but a letter dealing with this matter has since appeared as
an Appendix in the _Official History_ of the war; it is with reluctance
that I have been persuaded to reprint this letter at the end of this
volume. It seemed, however, that Sir William's previous career was
such a large factor in determining any opinion regarding his later work
that some account of the man and his surroundings from the beginning
would not be without interest.
In preparing the first half of this story I have been entirely
dependent on the recollections of others, and have studiously avoided
any attempt to eke out the material with an imaginary amplification; in
the latter half my own personal knowledge of himself and his affairs
has enabled {x} me to seek my information from numerous sources, and to
draw the portrait in richer colours on a more suggestive background.
I wish to acknowledge in full the loyal assistance afforded me by my
husband's friends. In every case I have received the most cordial
response and co-operation. I am sincerely grateful both to those who
have asked me to refrain from naming them and to those who have given
me the support of their names. Through the courtesy of these officers
and others, I am able to say that every word has been read by one who
has personal knowledge of the incidents recorded. In this way I trust
that this narrative will have acquired an unimpeachable accuracy.
I am also deeply indebted to the _Official History of the War in South
Africa_. Indeed, before the publication of this authoritative
statement my task would have been impossible.
To the facts therein recorded I have added extracts from officers'
reports, and from Sir William's own letters, and also the words of
certain important telegrams which I had found amongst his papers, and
for the reproduction of which official permission has been graciously
accorded.
{xi}
I beg the indulgence of the reader for faults of literary inexperience,
and trust that he will recognise my honest endeavour to handle the
facts fairly and dispassionately.
BEATRIX GATACRE.
_April_ 8, 1910.
{xiii}
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
GATACRE . . . 1
CHAPTER II
TO INDIA AND BACK . . . 13
CHAPTER III
RANGOON . . . 38
CHAPTER IV
SECUNDERABAD . . . 52
CHAPTER V
BLACK MOUNTAIN EXPEDITION . . . 63
CHAPTER VI
MANDALAY . . . 82
CHAPTER VII
POONA . . . 98
CHAPTER VIII
BOMBAY . . . 110
CHAPTER IX
CHITBAL . . . 127
{xiv}
CHAPTER X
QUETTA . . . 145
CHAPTER XI
THE PLAGUE . . . 161
CHAPTER XII
FROM ALDERSHOT TO BERBER . . . 184
CHAPTER XIII
ATBARA AND OMDURMAN . . . 198
CHAPTER XIV
COLCHESTER . . . 214
CHAPTER XV
CAPE COLONY . . . 221
CHAPTER XVI
ORANGE FREE STATE . . . 239
CHAPTER XVII
BACK TO COLCHESTER . . . 261
CHAPTER XVIII
ABYSSINIA . . . 273
DESPATCH, APRIL 16, 1900 . . . 286
INDEX . . . 289
{xv}
ILLUSTRATIONS
MAJOR-GENERAL SIR WILLIAM GATACRE, K.C.B., D.S.O.
(_Photogravure_) . . . _Frontispiece_
COLONEL W. F. GATACRE, D.S.O., 1888 . . . 74
KACHIN BRIDGE, OVER WHICH 500 MEN CROSSED IN ONE DAY . . . 90
GOORKHAS CROSSING THE LOWARI PASS . . . 134
ON THE ROAD TO CHITRAL . . . 138
GENERAL GATACRE AND HIS FAVOURITE PONY . . . 142
BELUCHI MURDERERS . . . 158
HINDU BURNING-GHAT . . . 162
HOUSE-TO-HOUSE VISITATION . . . 172
INVASION OF CAPE COLONY: THE BOERS MARCHING SOUTH OVER
THE ORANGE RIVER AT ALIWAL NORTH . . . 224
MAPS
_At the end_
MAP I. INDIA [Transcriber's note: this map was omitted, being too large
to scan.]
MAP II. EGYPT AND THE SOUDAN
MAP III. EASTERN CAPE COLONY AND PART OF THE ORANGE FREE STATE
MAP IV. ABYSSINIA
{1}
GENERAL GATACRE
1843-1906
CHAPTER I
1843-1862
GATACRE
According to a venerable Shropshire antiquarian, that county "has ever
been inhabited by a race of men characteristic for uniformity of
principle and energy of action."[1] Mr. Eyton goes on to tell of
various places mentioned in the Domesday Book, and among these of the
Manor of Claverley, which included a very large tract of country, and
is described as an "ancient demesne of the Crown." The Manor of
Claverley was broken up into various townships, to three of which he
accords special notice, "in regard that the King's Tenants thereof were
of a rank superior to that of the average class of Freeholders in Royal
Manors. These Townships were Broughton, Beobridge, and Gatacre."[2]
[1] _Antiquities of Shropshire_, by R. W. Eyton, 1854, preface.
[2] _Ibid._, vol. iii. p. 77.
{2}
[Sidenote: Ancestors]
There is a well-authenticated tradition that the family established at
Gatacre at the time of the Conquest held their lands by tenure of
military service, under a grant from Edward the Confessor. Eyton
speaks of them as "a family of knightly rank, which, having early
feoffment in Gatacre, took its name from the place. The period of such
feoffment it is vain to conjecture, as being beyond all record of such
matters."[3]
[3] Eyton's _Antiquities of Shropshire_, vol. iii. p. 86.
In the reign of Henry II., Sir William de Gatacre had a suit with one
Walter, about half a hide of land in Great Lye: this was subject to a
Wager of Battle, and apparently Gatacre proved himself the better man,
for Great Lye is even now held by his descendant. This same William
appears in another record as one of the four "Visors," who in July 1194
had to report to the Courts of Westminster on the validity of the
"essoign of Cecilia de Cantreyn, a litigant. Gatacre's associates in
this duty--to which knights only were usually appointed--were Henry
Christian, Philip Fitz Holegod, and William de Rudge, all his
neighbours and of equal rank with himself."[4]
[4] _Ibid._
He was succeeded by Sir Robert, his son; who sat on a Jury of Grand
Assizes in April 1200, to try a question of right in relation to lands
at Nordley Regis, at the "Iter of the King's Justices."[5]
[5] _Ibid._
The tenure of the estates was in great jeopardy {3} in the life of
Thomas de Gatacre; for it is told how a certain Philip de Lutley, the
King's Escheator, did "seize the estates of Gatacre, Sutton, and Great
Lye into the King's hand, on the ground that Thomas de Gatacre had
entered upon these estates without doing homage and fealty to the
Crown, and without paying his relief, so that he had occupied the same
unjustly for twenty-two years and more."[6] At this unfortunate moment
Thomas died, leaving Alice, his widow, to fight for herself and their
son Thomas. She appealed to the King (Edward III.) in Chancery, in the
Michaelmas Term 1368. There was a trial by twenty-four jurors, being
knights and others in the visnage of Sutton not being kin to Alice.
She herself appeared in person at Westminster, and won her cause, for a
"King's writ of the same year commits to the same Alice, widow of
Thomas de Gatacre, custody of the Manor of Gatacre and the hamlet of
Sutton with their appurtenances."
[6] See Eyton's _Antiquities_, vol. iii. pp. 90, 91,
The grandson of the younger Thomas was called John; he flourished in
the reigns of Henry IV., Henry V., and Henry VI., and was High Sheriff
of Shropshire in 1409. In a contemporary stained-glass window now in
the hall at Gatacre there is a portrait of the same John, who is
described as "Groom of the body to Henry VIth." He was succeeded by
his son John, who was Member of Parliament for Bridgnorth in the
twelfth year of Edward IV.
{4}
[Sidenote: The ancient house]
The house at Gatacre stands in the parish of Claverley, and is about
two miles distant from this village. Inside the church--a red
sandstone building full of interest to the archæologist--are many
monuments, of which the most ancient are two incised marble slabs
inlaid in the eastern wall; these are about six feet high. On one is
shown a man in armour, elaborate and perfect in all its detail,
commemorating William Gatacre, who died in 1577, and his wife and
eleven children; and on the other his successor Francis, 1599, is
depicted in civilian dress with his wife at his side.
Close by is a very fine alabaster tomb on which lie three full-length
recumbent figures, being the effigies of Robert Brooke of Madeley
Court, who is described as "Recorder of London, Speaker of P'lyament,
and Chiefe Justice of Com'on Pleace," and his two wives, one of whom
was a daughter of Gatacre.[7]
[7] See _Shropshire_, by A. C. Hare, p. 319.
Thomas, brother to Francis named above, was destined by his parents for
the law; but he "diverted his mind from the most profitable to the most
necessary study, from law to divinity," and, much to the grief of his
parents, who were of the old persuasion, embraced the Reformed Faith,
and became Rector of St. Edmond's, Lombard Street. He died in 1593;
but his son and grandson followed the same profession. The former,
Thomas (1574-1654), was a friend of Archbishop Ussher, and a member of
the Westminster Assembly of Divines. {5} He took part in preparing the
annotations to the English Bible, and published a work on Marcus
Aurelius; in 1648 he subscribed the Remonstrance against the trial of
Charles I. His son, Charles, was Chaplain to Lucius Gary, Viscount
Falkland, and was also the author of many books.[8] This younger
branch of the family settled at Mildenhall, in Suffolk, and has always
spelt the name Gataker. Though there has never failed a male heir to
the senior line, this is the only cadet branch that has survived.
[8] See quotation by A. C. Hare, from Thomas Fuller, 1662.
The house inhabited by this ancient family was a unique survival of
very early times.[9] Where we should now use iron girders our ancestors
used oak-trees; they erected them upside-down, so that the roots made
arches on which to lay the roof. Large stones were hewn to fill in the
walls, and in this particular building the outer surface of the stones
was incrusted with a transparent green glaze, very similar to what is
now seen on rough pottery. This curious specimen of domestic
architecture survived in a habitable condition till the early part of
the eighteenth century, when it was wantonly destroyed, and replaced by
a brick mansion of the dark and uninteresting type of the early
Georges. Portions of the glazed stones are still preserved in the
house amongst many other relics of more obvious value.
[9] See _The Severn Valley_, by John Randall, 1882, and _Archæologia_,
iii. 112, quoted by him.
{6}
Colonel Edward Gatacre and his only son, born in 1806 (who figures as
the Squire in this narrative), were specimens of the best type of
country gentleman of their day. The former was twentieth in direct
descent from Sir William de Gatacre of the twelfth century, and was
grandfather to Sir William, the hero of this story. The pedigree shows
that through the centuries the family had maintained their status as
gentle-folk, and had allied themselves with other families of the same
standing in the neighbouring counties. Both were men of remarkable
activity and considerable cultivation. With the advent of railways
came the facility for travel, of which the younger man was quick to
avail himself. He visited London every year, and among other men of
renown knew Sir Francis Grant, P.R.A., and persuaded him to come and
paint the portrait of his father that still hangs at Gatacre--a
beautiful picture. He also went abroad, and made a pilgrimage to Rome
in the old days when people travelled in their own carriages, making a
long stay at many places of interest in Switzerland and Italy.
[Sidenote: Forbes]
At the age of eighty-one the Colonel died, sincerely mourned throughout
the county; and thus in 1849 the young Squire came into his
inheritance. About ten years earlier he had married Jessie, second
daughter of William Forbes of Callendar, in the county of Stirling.
Mr. Forbes, who sprang from a cadet branch of the family of that name,
started his career in a shipping office; by his enterprise and
inventions {7} he built up a considerable fortune, with which he bought
the Callendar estate. His elder son, William Forbes, who succeeded
him, represented Stirlingshire in Parliament for many years; and his
younger son became Colonel John Forbes of the Coldstream Guards. Their
sister Jessie must always have been a beautiful woman, rather Scottish,
perhaps, in the vigorous outline of her face, with a depth about her
blue eyes and a symmetry of feature that reappeared in her third son; a
look of "all-comprehensive tenderness" is the dominant note of the
portrait. Indeed, we are told that while Mrs. Gatacre was a very able
woman, she had a singular gentleness of manner.
The family already numbered two sons and a daughter when in 1843 Mrs.
Gatacre went on a visit to her widowed mother, who was then living at
Herbertshire Castle, near Stirling: and so it came about that when a
little boy was born on December 3, he was given the names of his uncle
and godfather, William Forbes.
Perhaps it is to his Scottish descent that we may trace some of the
qualities that became most marked when the child, grown to perfect
manhood, had evolved that balance of innumerable strains that go to
make the individual--had, as it were, tuned the manifold strings of his
lineage to a chord of his own finding. Did he draw his habit of
concentration on the matter in hand, his painstaking attention to
detail, from the inventor-engineer of Aberdeen? Did he draw his
fervent notions of duty {8} and his stern disregard of personal
considerations from the blood of the Covenanters that ran in his veins?
My own father was heard to say that this son-in-law of his was born out
of due time, that his right place would have been at the head of
Cromwell's Ironsides.
In course of time another son, Stephen, completed the family. The
children were a great source of pride and pleasure to their parents,
and had the benefit of all that loving early training could do for
them. In this wholesome atmosphere of parental affection and brotherly
competition the four boys grew up straight and strong. They vied with
one another in childish feats and manly sports, but in all these Willie
was the keenest and the most daring.
Even in these latter days the house at Gatacre seems difficult of
access, for the nearest railway station (unless you cross the Severn in
a ferry) is at Bridgnorth, six miles away; but sixty years ago there
was no railway nearer than Wolverhampton, a good ten miles' drive. The
eldest son well remembers his father driving his coach-and-four to and
fro. The Squire was a famous whip, and maintained this practice far
into the sixties. But as the boys grew older they thought nothing of
doing this journey on foot at any hour of the day or night; perhaps it
was the remoteness of the country in which they were nurtured that had
endowed this family for generations back with powers of physical
endurance and enterprise beyond the common.
{9}
[Sidenote: At school]
The elder brothers Edward and John[10] were sent to Mr. Hopkirk's
school at Eltham, in Kent; and both were still there when Willie joined
them a year or two later. Some of Willie's letters from school are
still to be seen; and if handwriting is any sign of character, he must
have been an exemplary boy at his lessons, for his letters are so
exquisitely written that were it not for the dates duly recorded one
could scarcely believe them to be the work of a high-spirited boy of
thirteen. Writing to his mother in March 1857, he says: "Did you see
in the papers that peace had been made with Persia?"
[10] Now Major-General Sir John Gatacre, K.C.B.
The interest in Persia had been aroused by the approaching departure of
his brother John to India, where he was to join a regiment that was at
that moment fighting in Persia. Though loth to part from one who was
said to be his father's favourite son, the Squire had thought the offer
of a commission in the East India Company's army too good an opening to
refuse. In May 1857 he accompanied the boy, who was then only sixteen
and a half, as far as Marseilles, and did not see him again for nearly
twelve years.
At Gatacre there was a famous kennel of setters, and also some good
retrievers. A puppy of the latter breed was given to Willie for his
own, and he broke and trained it so skilfully, when only fifteen, that
the dog was sold for fifteen guineas, and eventually became celebrated
in the canine world.
{10}
[Sidenote: In the holidays]
There are many excellent fox-holding coverts in that part of the
country; the Albrighton Hounds still draw them regularly. Such visits
were great events to the boys; and we can well believe that Willie
would always be out, mounted on whatever he could get, big or small,
old or young. One day he was riding a mare who was known to be
twenty-two years old, and had all her life been used for harness work;
but nothing stopped Willie. When a fox was found close to the house,
away he went, and it is still told how Rushlight led the field for
miles. Willie seems to have shared more intimately than any of his
brothers the Squire's love for horses. He had a vivid recollection of
journeys to Birmingham with his father, when he visited the big stables
there to search for horses, either for himself or a friend; the elder
man taught his son what points to look for and what to avoid. Willie
thus acquired a certain confident genius for judging a horse, and all
his life took a pleasure in exercising this quality; like his father
before him, he was never afraid to buy horses at their request for
friends who had more confidence in his judgment than in their own.
One summer holiday the boy found for himself a new recreation. In a
letter to Stephen, dated from Gatacre, July 20, 1860, we find the
following passage:
"Did you know that there was an Alderney bull come? I have begun to
work him every {11} day, but he does not like it, and he fights with me
a great deal. But I find a good stick the best remedy; sometimes I
have to bate him a good deal."
The brothers and sister clearly recall seeing Willie ride this animal
day after day in the park.
It is evident that Number Three must often have been a source of
anxiety to his parents. One evening in February he gave his mother a
most horrible fright. The boys had arranged to go out after
wood-pigeons in the spinneys round the house; as there was snow on the
ground they slipped a night-shirt over their clothes to make themselves
less visible. The three guns posted themselves in three coverts some
distance apart, and then lay in wait for the birds as they came in to
roost. Willie, who was then sixteen or seventeen, was in a lucky
corner: he shot so many that he was at a loss how to bring the birds
in. Slipping off his white covering, he made a bag of it and gathered
up his spoils. By the time he reached the house he presented such an
alarming appearance that his mother naturally imagined him the victim
of some terrible accident. With great pride the boy counted out
forty-two birds.
In 1856 the Squire was pricked for High Sheriff. There is an ancient
custom by which all the sons of Gatacre are enrolled as Freemen of the
Borough of Bridgnorth; and on June 25, 1860, William Forbes was duly
sworn and inscribed on the rolls.
{12}
In the same year, on August 1, he was admitted to the Royal Military
College; he was then only sixteen and a half, and measured five feet
seven and a quarter inches in height. Ultimately he reached five feet
eleven inches in his socks.
Except in the riding-school he does not seem to have made much mark at
Sandhurst, but when he left in December 1861 he had earned the college
"Recommendation," and on February 18 following was gazetted an ensign
in the 77th Foot, now the 2nd Battalion (Duke of Cambridge's Own)
Middlesex Regiment.
{13}
CHAPTER II
1862-1880
TO INDIA AND BACK
[Sidenote: 1862]
The 77th Regiment was raised in 1787, and for twenty years served in
India, taking part in the fierce campaigns against Tippoo Sahib in
1790-91, in the storming of Seringapatam in 1799, and in many minor
operations. On their colours are also recorded the suggestive names,
Albuhera, Ciudad Rodrigo, Badajoz, Vittoria, Pyrenees, Nivelle, Nive,
Peninsula. In the Crimea they had charged at the Alma and at Inkerman;
they had shivered in the trenches before Sebastopol, and had taken part
in the final assault of the Redan. There were many officers and men
still with the colours in 1862 who had three clasps to their medals,
and also wore the French medal, and in the ranks there was an
exceptional number of Gallant Conduct medals.
Without doubt the fine record of the regiment and the fact that all the
senior officers had been proved in actual warfare, as their medals so
brilliantly testified, had a stimulating effect on the juniors.
{14}
Unfortunately the 77th sailed for Sydney, New South Wales, just before
the news of the Indian Mutiny reached England; and being detained
there, they did not reach India till June 1858, too late to take a
share in any but the minor operations incident to the disturbed state
of the country.
[Sidenote: As subaltern]
The regiment was at Hazaribagh, in Bengal, when Ensign William Gatacre
joined on June 5, 1862, but was shortly afterwards moved to Allahabad.
It was while Gatacre was doing duty with a detachment in the Fort that
Major Henry Kent (now Colonel-in-Chief of the Middlesex Regiment) first
saw the new subaltern; he describes him as good-looking, thin, smart,
and gentlemanly, adding that he took an immediate fancy to him.
It is to General Kent, who still speaks of Gatacre with great
affection, that I am indebted for the following story.
Sir Robert Napier, who at that time was Military Member of Council, was
passing through Allahabad on tour that winter, and took a walk round
the Fort one evening. Seeing a smart young officer with the famous
77th on his cap, he accosted him.
"Ah," he said, "I see you belong to the 77th, which Lord Gough
commanded at the battle of Barrosa."
"Yes, sir."
"And you captured a French Eagle there?"
"Yes, sir, we did."
"Well," said Napier, "what have you done {15} with the French Eagle?
Have you got it out here?"
"Not at present, sir," came the audacious reply: "we are putting up a
memorial in St. Paul's Cathedral to all our poor fellows who fell in
the Crimea, and we have sent the Eagle home to have a model taken of
it."
Now all this was an imaginary story invented to ease the situation, for
Napier was wrong in his facts. It was the 87th that Lord Gough had
commanded, and the 87th who had captured the French Standard; but
Gatacre's intuitive sense of discipline, even at nineteen, led him to
try any way of escape before putting his senior in the wrong.
Major-General Sir Harcourt Bengough, who was a few years senior to
Gatacre in the regiment, writes thus:
"The impression I retain of him as a young soldier is that of a strong
will and a quick determination to succeed, combined with a very kindly
disposition and a great charm of manner."
Another officer tells us that in the hottest weather Gatacre was always
cool, smiling, and good-tempered. He was noticeably abstemious and
frugal, and very careful of his appearance. At one time he used to
clean his own boots because he was too hard up to pay for this service.
When he related this in after-life he added, with the pride of
efficiency, "And they did shine!"
An officer's wife who knew Gatacre in these early days, and saw him at
intervals throughout {16} his career, tells us that there hung about
him when he first joined a certain countrified simplicity of mind and
manner, as opposed to the conventionality of a town-bred man. Though
he enjoyed society, social distractions got little hold on his
self-contained nature, and it was rarely that any of his friendships
developed into intimacy. He had, however, a ready sympathy, was easily
interested in whatever went on around him, and, being very unselfish,
was always prepared to do any one a service.
[Sidenote: 1865]
Young Gatacre's letters to his mother from Allahabad disclose a
reasoned industry inspired by ambition. The reiteration of the
recurring features of his life, cholera, rain, and work, is suggestive
of the monotony of existence in the summer months. But his experiences
and his surroundings differ in nothing from that of every other
subaltern in the Plains. That he worked with assiduity at acquiring
the language is shown by his having been placed first out of twenty-two
in the Higher Standard, after only two years' study. When the 77th
moved to Bareilly, Gatacre was made secretary to the Mutton and Poultry
Club, and kept a quailery, which was a venture of his own. The
following letter shows the real interest that he took in his charges:
_July_ 31, 1865.
"When the musketry instructor comes down from leave on September 30, I
shall try for fifteen days' leave. I cannot get more, as the {17}
course begins on October 15, with all its hard work. It is raining
very hard here, and I am sitting in the verandah watching all my ducks
and geese enjoying themselves. I have both my horses in the field
round the house: one of them has a peculiarly unpleasant temper with
strangers. The other day the doctor was breakfasting with us; when he
went away and had got a short distance, he saw this animal coming at
him open-mouthed, but he turned and ran for my room, and both the
doctor and horse came into the room together. He does not run at me,
as he knows me so well, but I never trust him much; they are very
uncertain in India."
[Sidenote: On leave]
In November 1866 the 77th was sent to Peshawur, and in the following
May young Gatacre took six months' leave to Kashmir. But he did not
confine himself to shooting in the Happy Valley; he was filled with an
adventurous curiosity to see the temples and wild scenery of the
mountains beyond. He felt that his pleasure in the trip would lie in
his freedom to go where he chose, and when he chose, and as fast as he
chose. He knew that his mobility would outstrip that of any companion,
and so decided to go alone. In this decision, in which we see the
first indication of originality, Gatacre showed a fearlessness, a
confidence in his own resources, and a willingness to sever
communications with all external support that are remarkable in a lad
of only twenty-three. These characteristics never faded; they may be
traced throughout the record of his life {18} whenever occasion arose
for his individuality to take action. What other man would have
attempted to explore the forests of Abyssinia unaccompanied at the age
of sixty-one! His fearlessness and his confidence were with him to the
end, and to the end he preserved a mobility that preferred to be
unhampered.
[Sidenote: 1867]
Young Gatacre's first objective was Leh. He left Srinagar on May 2,
and halting at Manasbal Lake one night, reached Kangan. Here he learnt
that the road over the Zoji-La between Sonamarg and Dras was still
blocked with snow, and so made up his mind to halt for a time. His
diary during this fortnight's halt shows that he was more interested in
what he saw than in what he shot. This is the feature of his trip; he
writes much more of the temples that he has sketched than of the game
that he has killed. One day when he had run across some friends he
writes: "Saw a gerau deer that Troop had killed; would like to get one
to make a sketch of." He subsequently collected many of his sketches
in a book; and these early water-colours are quite surprising in their
freshness and finish. They are not pictures, but most painstaking
studies of what he saw--picturesque men and women, animals, temples,
idols, and occasionally the detail of some designs from the temples.
He records with the greatest interest the flowers and birds that he
sees, and speaks of its physical features if the country he was passing
through was of special interest. It is clear that he had at some time
studied the elements of geology, {19} for he writes of the Zoji-La:
"Rocks very barren, and look very old--no sharp points."
[Sidenote: Goes after bear]
After ten days he moved one march up the road to Reval, and spent ten
days there shooting, whenever the rain and the snow allowed. On May 16
he writes:
"Fine morning at last; put everything in the sun to dry. Went out
shooting after breakfast, and had a good day; killed a black bear about
200 yards from camp. Had a shot at an ibex; saw nine, but did not hit
one. Slept under a tree for about an hour; on my way back killed a
brown bear with a beautiful silvery skin, and hit a barrasingh buck in
the chest; tracked him a long way, found some blood. Night was coming
on and it began to rain, so had to give up the search or should
probably have got him--a magnificent beast, horns about a foot high,
just beginning to grow. In jumping across the stream I fell in and got
wet through; water very strong, was carried down like an arrow; caught
hold of a stone and came ashore, took off my things and stood in the
sun to dry: sketch reserved."
There is a pleasant vein of boyish humour in some of the entries.
"Went after a huge black bear that we saw on the hill-side, but could
not find him. Climbed one of the stiffest and most slippery hills that
I ever was on after the aforesaid bear, and found his cave. Thought
him a fool for selecting such a spot; going up there once was bad
enough, but to have such an ascent to one's residence was absurd.
Found some one of the name of {20} Thorpe had arrived at the
camping-ground, asked him to dinner, but he refused as he was so tired;
could not understand his reason--the very one why I should have
accepted, as he could have gone to bed directly afterwards, my dinner
being ready and his not.
It was not till May 23 that he got really started, and even then the
road was still deep in snow, or the melting snow was flooding over the
road in many places. Under date May 25 we read:
"Passed some dead men in the pass; they were men going to Yarkand
(eight men and a woman) several days ago, when they were overtaken with
snow and smothered, all their bedding, clothes, etc., lying about."
Next day, writing from Dras, he notices the great change that has come
over the country; and here he spent three days, partly because his
servant had fever, and partly because he finds so much to sketch that
he cannot tear himself away. The same motive kept him at Lama Guru, of
which he gives an excellent description. He reached Leh on June 9,
having accomplished the 250 miles from Reval in seventeen days, or
deducting four halts, thirteen days; which works out at an average of
over nineteen miles every marching day.
[Sidenote: At Hemis]
The following day he started off for Hemis, where there was a great
gathering for the visit of the Burra Lama: this involved a stony and
arduous march of twenty-four miles, but he was {21} up early next
morning and was very much interested in what was going on.
_June_ 11, 1867.
"Went all over the Monastery and gained a little information--not much,
as the monks keep no records, only from year to year. The place is
about 1,300 years old, well built of stone with a whitening on it, on
the side of a rock. There are several halls of worship (Gompas) hung
round with splendid silk flags and banners, all Chinese silk. There
are a few idols, but very small ones, magnificently woven pictures of
gods on silk being the chief things. About 10 o'clock the tamasha
began, monks dressed in the most magnificent silk garments and quaint
tall hats and masks dancing; the costumes were varied about every
quarter of an hour and every one equally grand as the former. They
each held in their hands a drum like a warming-pan and either a bell or
a rattle. They danced a sort of war-dance in a circle, occasionally
singing and drumming. Under the verandah of the Quadrangle were seated
about thirty monks dressed in red and yellow silk gowns, with
fan-shaped hats on their heads; some with drums, some with cymbals, and
some with long trumpets, silver and copper, formed the band; they
played from music and it went very well with the wild dance. One dance
was performed with bears, another was supposed to be a wild man's
dance: about ten monks--dressed in hideous masks, yellow embroidered
silk jackets, on the shoulders of which tigers' heads were embroidered,
and round whose waists were strings of bells, from which were suspended
strips of tiger skins--danced in a circle, beating drums and ringing
bells. The figure of a man {22} bound hand and foot was placed in the
centre. After they had danced round the figure some time, one of them
cut off his head with a sword. One of the side walls of the
Quadrangle, about 30 ft. high and 12 ft. broad, was covered with a
single cloth or flag on which was most beautifully woven the figure of
one of their gods and other subjects--worth about 5,000 or 6,000
rupees. This was at first covered with long silk streamers, which were
removed; and when the large banner had been duly worshipped and
admired, it was rolled up and replaced by another equally splendid, but
not so large, by a third and by a fourth. Each dress could not have
cost less than £80 or £100--I never saw anything so magnificent; the
whole Quadrangle was hung round with silk streamers too. Round the
Quadrangle, the prayer-books--viz. rollers of wood with the prayers
written on them--are placed, one turn of which is equal to saying a
prayer. All the villagers have them at their doors; at one corner of
the Quadrangle there is a room in which there is a huge prayer roller.
They are called Marni-prayer."
Gatacre was determined to make the most of his opportunities, and
insisted on seeing the Burra Lama, whom he thus describes:
"He is a short, stout, middle-aged man, clothed in fine scarlet cloth,
sitting on a throne on which incense was burning; he is never seen by
any one except on the occasion of the festival, when he comes and sits
on a platform in the Quadrangle for about half an hour. I could not
wait till evening to see him, so as a special favour was allowed to see
the mortal whom no vulgar European eye had seen before. He {23}
received me graciously, and asked me to be seated and how I was; asked
me if I had anything to give him. I had brought nothing from Ladak
with me, but had some matches with me, which I gave him. He comes from
Lhassa; it is three months' journey from here, and he comes once in
every five or six years. It was great luck my seeing this festival, as
occurring so early in the year it is seldom or never seen."
[Sidenote: The Salt Lakes]
On his return to Leh, Gatacre was horrified at getting letters telling
him to hurry back to Peshawur, as cholera had broken out. But he was
too cunning to take this very literally, and at once got his friend the
Wazeer to lend him ponies to ride to the Salt Lakes; he adds most
sapiently: "If I don't see them now, probably never shall."
It was, however, a very long way (ninety-eight miles) to the Salt Lakes
at Rupshu; he did this journey in two days, and on the second day
writes:
"The distance I came to-day was fifty-eight miles; I was nearly dead
with fever, and sun and cold, and walking, and riding in a wooden
saddle all day."
He spent one day in his tent with fever on the snow-covered plain, but
was better next morning and able to get about, and on the following day
he started on the return journey, which he accomplished in two marches
as before.
After four days spent at Leh with some friends who had turned up, he
marched back by the same {24} route, covering 265 miles from Leh to
Kangan in twelve days, one of which was a halt at Lama Yuru, where he
"slept nearly all day."
[Sidenote: Off again]
Writing from Baltal on July 1, he comments on the change that has taken
place in the Zoji-La in his absence:
"The Pir is a very different-looking place from what it was when I came
through it before. Then it was a wilderness of snow, ice, and rocks;
now it is the most beautiful pass, hills covered with grass and flowers
and shrubs and trees that were before buried in the snow. The snow
rivers are very full and furious; nearly lost a pony in one of them;
drove him through it and carried saddles, etc., over the snow some way
higher up; the pony was rolled over and over and with difficulty came
to land. Now that the snow has disappeared, one sees what a quantity
there must have been in the pass when I went through, at least 70 or 80
ft. in some places. The Pir is covered with sweet peas and flowers of
all colours and shapes, excessively pretty.
"The hills wear a quite different aspect to what they did when I came
up. The snow has melted except on a few of the highest peaks, and the
grass has grown, likewise the shrubs. The barley and all the corn is
in the ear; it was hardly sown when I came, just a month ago. There
are waterfalls from nearly every rock, which looks very pretty and the
water is such as 'only teetotallers desire or deserve.' The wild
roses, white, red, and yellow, are covered with blossoms, and their
smell is delicious."
But before he reached Srinagar the orders for his return were
cancelled, and we find him shooting in his old haunts round Kangan.
{25}
It is clear that he was enjoying himself thoroughly, that he felt no
impatience to return to civilisation, and that he considered his march
to Leh and back very much worth doing, for at the end of July he
started on another extended tour. It is about 120 miles from Kangan to
Skardo, about 200 thence to Leh, and about 250 from Leh to Srinagar, so
that he added another 570 miles to his score in the fifty days between
July 28 and September 15. Leaving the Sind River by the tributary
valley to the north called Wangat, he crossed into the valley of Tylel
by a little-known route "said to have been a track made by a gang of
horse dealers who came from Tylel into Kashmir years ago." There were
two very steep hills, of which the coolies only managed to accomplish
the first.
Turning north-east, he made his way across the plains of Deosai, but
there was a difficult pass to negotiate before he descended into the
valley of the Indus. On August 7 he writes:
"Got up early and started for Skardo. Got to the top of the ridge in
about an hour, all snow and ice, great trouble to get the ponies over
the glacier, as it was a nearly perpendicular sheet of ice--they slid
down most of the way. From the bottom of the glacier there is a
descent of about eight miles down the valley, which opens out into the
plain of Skardo. Skardo consists of a number of villages scattered
over a stony plain covered with apricot-trees which yield great
quantities of fruit. The plain is surrounded with high rocky hills, no
grass or trees on them. The Wazeer is an old man with long {26} grey
beard, uncle to the present Wazeer Labjar of Ladak, who was formerly
Wazeer here. His name is Myraram, he came to see me on my arrival,
bringing a large basket of apricots as a present."
[Sidenote: A snow pass]
The last sentence is a sample of many entries, for wherever he went he
made friends with the headmen of the village, and he seems nowhere to
have been in difficulties about supplies. As it is unlikely that the
Hindustani of the plains of India would be understood in Thibet, he
must either have mastered working fragments of the dialect, or he must
have talked Persian with the more educated natives. Later on he says:
"Met some Tartars who had been to Simla, and had a long talk with
them." And in another place: "Had a long talk with a Sepoy who was in
one of the four regiments sent by the Maharajah to assist in the
capture of Delhi, and saw General Nicholson fall."
Three officers of the 11th Hussars came in to Skardo the day after
Gatacre's arrival, and fired him with the desire to see Shigar, a town
a few miles higher up the Indus, where they had seen the original game
of polo.
After five days' halt at Skardo, Gatacre started on his return journey,
via Leh. Both Skardo and Leh are on the Indus: he did not, however,
follow the course of this river, but chose to make his way up the
valley of the Shyok. This necessitated a passage over the Indus at the
junction of the two streams on the second day's march, which he thus
describes:
{27}
"Started at daybreak, and reached this at 6 o'clock. Crossed the river
at Kiris on twelve mussocks fastened together by eight bamboos or thin
sticks--the luggage in the centre, I on one side, Collassie on the
other, and two steerers at one end, who steered with long sticks. When
they got into the middle of the stream they began their tarnasha,
namely, turning the raft round and round like a top by digging their
sticks deeply into the water."
Two days later he crossed the Shyok in the same manner, and found the
stream "very fast and furious," although it was half a mile across. It
is difficult to picture these watercourses, which, with the manners and
appearance of mountain-torrents, have the volume and grandeur of mighty
rivers. After following the Shyok for about fifty miles, he left it at
Paxfain, and turned southwards along the side-stream which leads up to
the Chorbat-La, a pass 16,696 ft. above the sea. Writing that evening,
he says:
"Marched at break of day and walked on steadily till the sun went
down--a very long march; the first four or five hours were occupied in
getting to the top of the pass--a terrible climb--after that it is all
down-hill. The Pir was covered with snow, with an immense glacier
reaching right across it for about 200 yards."
The next day he struck into the valley of the Indus once more, and
reached Leh in six marches on August 26. On the way "a very civil {28}
Sepoy turned up," who was also on his way to Ladak. While in his
company Gatacre found that he met with unusual politeness and
attention, which was accounted for later when "the Sepoy turned out to
be the new Thanadar of these parts."
On September 1 he started back on the direct route to Srinagar, which
must have seemed quite familiar to him on this, his third journey. On
the Zoji-La he notes that "all the grass that was so beautifully green
is now withered up." At Sonamarg he found it "very cold," and writes
of his blankets being frozen hard in the morning, and quite white. On
September 15 he reached Srinagar, having marched the 285 miles from Leh
in sixteen days, making an average of eighteen miles a day. He seems
to have done most of his travelling on foot, though it is clear that he
sometimes had ponies for his baggage, and that he sometimes rode them.
When he was making long marches he had great sympathy for his beasts,
and often notices that the ponies were very tired. The rate at which
he travelled would, of course, be nothing exceptional on made roads,
but it must be remembered that in no case was there any road at all, as
we understand the word, and that he habitually moved by double marches.
He found several friends at Srinagar whom he had come across in his
travels, and enjoyed an easy fortnight with them there before rejoining
at Peshawur.
[Sidenote: On sick leave]
This season had proved itself a very trying {29} and unhealthy one for
the 77th; the regiment had been attacked with cholera and Peshawur
fever, and had lost five officers and forty-nine men. Colonel Kent
tells us that on his return Gatacre had a sharp attack of fever, and
that he and another subaltern had been so very ill when they were sent
off home that it was feared they would never again be able to serve in
India.
Even after his arrival in England Gatacre had severe recurrences of
fever, but home nursing triumphed; and before long he was posted to a
depot battalion then commanded by Colonel Browne of the 77th, and
stationed at Pembroke Dock. Writing on August 13, 1909, Colonel Browne
says:
"Gatacre's relations with his brother officers were always very smooth,
and I cannot recall to mind his ever exchanging an angry word with any
one of them, but as a rule he did not encourage intimacy.
"Whatever Gatacre was asked or had to do he did well and thoroughly.
Whilst he joined heartily in whatever socially was going on, he never
in the days I speak of put himself prominently forward; but there was
something about him which I at least recognised as showing a dormant
power which only awaited opportunity to exert itself, and this view of
him has been fully borne out by his later career."
When Colonel Kent brought the battalion home in March 1870, Lieutenant
Gatacre was on the quay to greet his regiment on its arrival at
Portsmouth.
{30}
The Clarence Barracks in which the regiment was first quartered were at
that time old and dilapidated, and have since vanished. In those days
every officer who took part in a route-march had to send in a report to
the General Officer Commanding. The opening sentence of one of
Gatacre's reports amused his wing-commander so much that it survives:
"Starting from the Clarence Barracks, long since condemned as unfit for
habitation by the Royal Marines, etc."
[Sidenote: 1870]
The events of 1870 on the continent were of course followed with
breathless interest by all intelligent Englishmen, and many soldiers
must have longed to go and see the ground on which these sanguinary
contests had been fought out. This desire was anticipated by the War
Office, and special regulations were issued forbidding such an attempt.
But to Gatacre the call was irresistible. Having taken first leave
that autumn in order to see something of his brother John before his
return to India, he slipped away via Harwich and Antwerp to Brussels,
which he reached on November 6. He seems afterwards to have followed
the route taken by the First German Army under Steinmetz in early
August--in fact, Saarbrucken was the scene of the first encounter.
Gravelotte had been fought on August 18, but doubtless to a soldier's
eye the ground occupied by the combatants could still be identified.
Metz had capitulated on October 27, so that the state of a city in
which 150,000 men had been blockaded {31} for three months was
exhibited in all its horrors.
[Sidenote: Continental battlefields]
Writing from Luxembourg on Sunday, November 6, 1870, he says:
"I started again at 6.30 this morning, and got here, without stopping,
at 1 o'clock; nothing but soldiers, horses, and baggage, besides sick
men by the hundreds, hospitals filled. I never saw such a sight.
To-night I am going to Treves, and then on to Metz, via Saarlouis and
Saarbruck, as the road via Vionville is not open on account of the
French holding it. I will write from Metz and let you know my
movements. I mean to attach myself to the English Ambulance, if
possible, for a while, if I can see anything more by doing so."
And again on November 13, from Brussels:
"From Luxembourg I went on to Treves, Saarbruck, Metz, and then round
by Ottange, through Belgium to Brussels again. I went to Gravelotte
and several battlefields, and picked up heaps of things, most of which
I have got with me; but as nothing is allowed to go over the French
frontier, there was a difficulty about passing. I met a man named
Caldecott in the service, and he and I travelled together all the way;
we drove across the frontier with our things, and so got them through.
Metz is in a terrible state; nothing to eat or drink, or place to
sleep. I could not write, as all postal communication is stopped, and
most of the country round Metz a desert.
"I shall come by the coach Thursday night, so if you could send the
cart to Shipley to fetch my things, I will just walk over."
{32}
[Sidenote: 1871-3]
Writing on the day following his return, his sister gives Stephen a
rchauffé of the traveller's tales:
"Metz is not injured in the least, but is full of soldiers, and that is
why there was no place to sleep in there. When Willie left, the shops
were open and provisions coming in. Willie travelled with another
Englishman in a waggon with a poor starved horse, and was going about
in this way for four or five days. The cold intense; deep snow. He
saw 25,000 prisoners going into Germany, packed in trucks, forty
officers and men in a truck like cattle, and snow among them. He slept
in a hospital three nights, 1,700 men in it.
"I do not think, from what he says, that travelling is over safe--that
is, on the French side. The sentries are very sharp; an Englishman who
was foolishly travelling by himself, and at night, and could speak no
language well, was shot a month ago.
"Willie is glad he went; he met an old gentleman who knew grandpapa at
Saarbruck."
It is much to be regretted that the daily impressions of this tour were
not recorded with the accuracy of the Kashmir trip, but 1867 seems to
have been the only year in which he kept a journal. We hear nothing of
how he contrived to get anything to eat, or to get about at all, in a
region stripped of supplies by the armies that had passed through; but
the interesting fact remains that he did visit this ground, and
reappeared at home on Thursday, November 17.
Colonel Henry Kent was very popular in the 77th regiment, which he had
first joined in 1845. He held the command for twelve years, and {33}
had brought the battalion into a very high state of efficiency when he
resigned in 1880. It is notified in General Orders of that year that
for the third time in succession the 77th was the best shooting
regiment, and that Private H. Morgan, of this corps, was the best shot
in the army.
[Sidenote: Staff College]
In February 1873 Captain Gatacre was admitted to the Staff College. He
had worked hard to prepare himself for the entrance examination, had
taken private lessons to rub up his mathematics, and had been abroad to
polish his French; for not only had he to secure a vacancy in open
competition, but he had to dispute the place with another officer in
the same corps.
It is clear that even in these early days Gatacre had acquired the art
of making himself valued among his fellows. Colonel Kent was dining
with the Rifle Brigade at Aldershot one evening when he had the
gratification of hearing the laments of some of his contemporaries at
the Staff College at the prospect of losing Gatacre. But the Colonel,
highly delighted at the success and popularity of his young friend,
reassured them, saying:
"Never mind, I have another quite as good to send in his place. I am
sending Bengough next term."
"Ah, yes," they said, "but we shall never have another like Gatacre; we
shall miss him dreadfully. Why, what can the 77th be made of!"
"Gatacres and Bengoughs," was the proud reply. General Kent affirms,
moreover, that {34} His Royal Highness the Duke of Connaught was
present on this occasion.
[Sidenote: 1873-4]
During these two years Captain Leir[1] was Master of the Staff College
Drag-hounds. He speaks of Gatacre, who acted as his Whip, as "the best
who ever turned them for me"; and tells us that he was quite the most
accomplished horseman of his day--that he used to ride all sorts of
horses, made and unmade, that he had wonderful patience and nerve, and
was always in the front.
[1] Now Major-General Leir-Carleton.
Captain Leir writes that the only fuss he ever had with his colleague
was over a hound, called Bellman, who had been given to him by the late
Lord Cork when master of the Queen's Buckhounds. Bellman was a great
favourite, being very companionable, which is unusual with fox-hounds.
Gatacre begged leave to take him home and summer him in Shropshire, but
having got him there the Squire took such a fancy to Bellman that his
return was delayed till the following January. On another occasion,
however, the Master had every reason to be grateful to his friend, as
he tells us in the following story.
[Sidenote: Indefatigable]
For drag-hounds the scent is laid by a man who runs with aniseed half
an hour before the hounds start; but as it is imperative that he should
thoroughly know his line, he must walk it first, carefully selecting a
track which avoids risk of damage to growing crops and affords suitable
fences for the field. On one occasion when {35} Captain Leir's runner
(or fox as he was familiarly termed) was _hors de combat_ from a fall,
he sent for a noted runner from Reading to take his place. But when
the Master had shown this man half the course, he suddenly threw up the
job, and after that no bribe would induce him to go a yard farther.
The meet was advertised for the following day, but there was no fox,
and Leir, vexed and despairing, now turned to his Whip, who was noted
for his resource in all difficulties.
At 6 a.m. the next morning Gatacre started to walk the line by the aid
of a map, drove back, did his morning's work on the heath with his
class, and ran the line again in the afternoon. The runs varied from
four to six miles, according to the season and the condition of hounds
and horses, with a ten minutes' check in the middle. The fox on this
occasion, however, was a long-winded one; he ran a bit farther than his
instructions warranted, in order to enjoy the sight of half the field
struggling on the banks of a big brook.
At the final examination in December 1874 Gatacre passed out of the
Staff College with special honours in military drawing and surveying,
and was at once offered the post of Professor in these subjects at the
Royal Military College; he took up this appointment early in 1875.
In the following year, being then thirty-two, he was married to a
charming and beautiful girl of Irish descent. Early in the year 1878
their {36} eldest son, William Edward, who is now a Captain in the
Yorkshire Light Infantry, was born at Yorktown.
[Sidenote: 1875-9]
A few months later Gatacre was to know the first great grief of his
life in the loss of his mother. Willie had always proved intensely
lovable, and had also his own graceful and attentive ways of returning
the love which he received from his parents. There was, moreover, a
strong vein of sentiment in him which led him throughout his life to
cling to souvenirs and relics of the past.
[Sidenote: As professor]
It is evidence of the strength and the simplicity of Gatacre's
character that his charm of manner was felt equally by men older and
younger than himself. "Manners impress as they indicate real power.
And you cannot rightly train one to an air and manner except by making
him the kind of man of whom that manner is the natural expression.
Nature ever puts a premium on reality."
The cadets in his class were fascinated by this singular and brilliant
personality, and loved him with a "schoolboy heat." One of them tells
how he seemed more one of themselves than the other professors; another
remembers how he treated them as gentlemen, instead of regarding them
as schoolboys; another that he was full of sympathy when anything
needed explanation; another that if he found out and fell upon some
little meanness with the weight of his own uprightness, he would gave
the culprit from official correction {37} thus win him as a disciple;
another, writing at the time of his death, speaks of Gatacre's
influence for good throughout his career. Another, who has afforded me
very real assistance in this narrative, tells us that he felt such a
genuine hero-worship for Captain Gatacre that he applied for the 77th
Regiment in order to serve under him. This cadet not only passed well,
but, being a protégé of General William Napier, who was then Governor
of the College, might have got himself gazetted into any regiment that
he liked to name.
After serving four years as a military instructor, Gatacre was
appointed temporarily to the post of Deputy Assistant
Quarter-Master-General on the Headquarters Staff at Aldershot. This
was his first experience of staff work. The following winter a new
field-service equipment was engaging much attention; this was, of
course, worked out in the office in which Gatacre was employed. He
writes with some satisfaction of the "mess-tin invented by me" being
approved and adopted.
{38}
CHAPTER III
1880-1883
RANGOON
[Sidenote: 1880]
At the expiration of his term of office at Aldershot, in May 1880,
Captain Gatacre took short leave home, and then rejoined the 77th at
Dover. The regiment had been already warned for India in the next
trooping season, but the news of our misfortune at Maiwand hastened
their departure, and in August 1880 they were hurriedly embarked at
only a fortnight's notice. To Gatacre the hope of seeing active
service must have more than compensated for a disappointment he had
expressed at not getting another staff billet. This hope, however,
vanished on their arrival at Bombay, where the regiment learnt that the
defeat of Ayub Khan outside Khandahar on September 2 had brought the
campaign to a conclusion. The battalion was landed at Bombay on
September 10, and made its way by road to Madras.
[Sidenote: On the staff]
It is evident that Gatacre's reputation as a {39} zealous and efficient
officer had preceded him, for within one month of his arrival in India
he was seconded for service on the staff of the Hyderabad Subsidiary
Force, which had its headquarters at Secunderabad. All keen soldiers
are pleased to be in India, for there is more chance of active service
there than at home, and it was in the hope of getting this opportunity
that Gatacre lived and worked. In the meantime his selection for staff
work, although the post was only "temporary," was sufficiently
complimentary to satisfy all his aspirations. His qualities and
temperament had greater scope to expand in such a post than in the more
rigid routine of a regiment; his previous experience of India added
discernment to his enthusiasm in dealing with all the manifold
interests with which he came in contact.
But there was a cloud on the horizon which rapidly grew until the whole
sky was for the moment overcast. Early in the New Year his little son,
born at Aldershot and aged only fifteen months, fell sick with cholera,
and died on January 18. Both parents felt the blow terribly: the
mother took fright for the elder boy, and decided to carry him off
home. Several touching relics, in the way of a lock of hair, etc.,
that Gatacre, in spite of his many changes of residence, never
afterwards cared to destroy, show how deeply he was moved by this loss.
He had a spontaneous fondness for children that led him all his life to
accost them; and his attentions to them invariably met with that {40}
quick response which is in itself a sign of grace in the recipient.
A manhood fused with female grace,
In such a sort, a child would twine
A trustful hand, unasked, in thine,
And find his comfort in thy face.
He looked forward with pleasure to getting a change when he should be
relieved in June by the officer whose post he was holding, and soon had
the satisfaction of accepting an offer from General the Honourable
Arthur Hardinge, Commander-in-Chief of the Bombay Army, to take the
place of his Military Secretary, who was for the moment employed
elsewhere.
[Sidenote: 1881]
This appointment was even more congenial than the last: for to be on
the personal staff of the Commander-in-Chief of a province meant
accompanying him on all his tours of inspection. Like the former, this
appointment was an eight months' business, for staff officers in India
get sixty days' short leave every year, and eight months' long leave
occasionally; for the latter period it was usual to appoint some
officer to carry on, and it was Gatacre's good fortune throughout his
career to be constantly selected for such temporary tenure of office.
In this way he gained an acquaintance with all the provinces of India,
and with all arms, British and Native, such as rarely falls to the lot
of one man. When he left India, seventeen years later, there was
hardly a station in all the four provinces which he had not visited.
[Sidenote: Military Secretary]
In the course of the winter, 1881-2, General {41} Hardinge paid an
official visit to Sir Robert Phayre, at Mhow. One of his daughters
well remembers Major Gatacre on this occasion. His handsome bronzed
face, his slight athletic figure, and keen but kindly blue eyes
arrested the attention; and then on further acquaintance, his
indefinable charm of manner, his courtly way of devoting himself to his
companion for the moment, his curious mixture of modesty and power left
an impression which later years exaggerated as his name became
identified with all the soldierly qualities and achievements which
built up his fame.
Every moment of these inspection tours was full of interest for
Gatacre; who, being a good son, writes fully and simply about
everything to the Squire at home.
CAMP HAMURGHURI,
_December_ 18, 1881.
"We are having a very pleasant march from Nusserabad to Neemuch; good
shooting all the way--duck, snipe, and deer; also some capital
pig-sticking. The wild boars here are very difficult to get out of the
jungle and grass, but when one does get them out across the open ground
they run like greyhounds. I have two ponies a little under fourteen
hands, both fast, and I have sometimes galloped a mile and a half
before I could catch one; this was allowing him about a quarter of a
mile start, otherwise if pressed they turn into the jungle. When you
get up to them on the open ground, they turn round and run back a pace
or two, and then come straight at you, rising on their hind legs to cut
your horse if they get the chance, but {42} this of course they can't
do if you use your spear properly. I have got some capital tushes.
The best run we have had as yet was at a place called Roopauli, two
marches back; two boars broke covert together and went away over
capital ground to another place two miles off. The Commander-in-Chief
and I took one and had a capital run after him. I had the luck to get
the first spear. I was pleased, because I was riding a horse of the
Chief's that could never be got up to a pig before. To-morrow we are
coming to a place celebrated for cheetul, a kind of spotted deer,
antlers like a stag and skin like a fallow deer. I am in hopes of
getting one or two. This is a beautiful country to march through, very
long grass and jungle all round; nearly all the hills are of white
marble; and spotted marbles of sorts, and an enormous number of old
forts and temples beautifully ornamented with carvings in marble and
stone. Some of them are extraordinarily beautiful in form and design
of carving, far superior to anything we see now--and these are
thousands, not hundreds, of years old."
[Sidenote: 1882]
It is difficult to say when Gatacre "found" himself--to use an
expression that Mr. Rudyard Kipling has for ever endowed with
psychological meaning; but there can be no doubt that the shifting
scenes in which he played his part from the time he landed in India, in
August 1880, till he commanded his regiment in June 1884, must have
widened his outlook on life, must have quickened his sense of the
opportunities before him, and have enabled him to gauge his own powers.
India encourages individuality to {43} a very high degree; men live in
small groups in stations that are hundreds of miles apart; in any one
place there is (in a sense) only one man of any one grade, so that the
labourers do not jostle one another, but each has enough elbow-room to
play freely with his tools.
[Sidenote: To Burma]
At the conclusion of his time with General Hardinge in February 1882,
Gatacre was sent to act as Assistant Quarter-Master-General to the
Burmese Division, with headquarters at Rangoon, then under the command
of General H. Prendergast. The British connection with this
picturesque river-port dates from 1824, when Sir Archibald Campbell
captured it after a feeble resistance. In the following year, owing to
continued outrages on British subjects and the refusal of the King of
Ava to enter into any treaty obligations with us, a British force
advanced up the Irrawaddy to Prome, and stayed there throughout the
rainy season. In October the Burmese Army made an organised attempt to
recover the place; but the British forces repulsed the attack, and
followed up the enemy to within four days' march of their capital at
Ava. At this point the Burmese sued for peace: their apologies were
accepted, and the country was evacuated, except for the sea-board
provinces of Arakan and Tenasserim. The Province of Pegu was restored
to the Burmese and remained in their hands till 1852, when fresh
outrages and insolence on the part of another Burmese sovereign again
gave rise to hostilities. At the conclusion of peace Pegu {44} was
formally annexed by Proclamation, while Lord Dalhousie was Viceroy,
under the name of Lower Burma, and Rangoon was made the seat of
government.
Upper Burma was at that time in a deplorable condition; the excesses of
the ruler, who was called Pagan-min, are described as recalling the
worst years of the later Roman Empire. With a change of dynasty in the
person of Mindon-min, matters improved somewhat. The new ruler
realised the value of European enterprise and capital; he allowed
strangers of all nations to settle in the country, and protected
travellers and explorers. A few years later a commercial treaty was
negotiated with Great Britain, a Resident was received, and for his
protection he was allowed a small guard and an armoured boat on the
river. To commemorate his flourishing reign Mindon founded a new
capital at Mandalay, and in 1874 had himself crowned there to fulfil a
prophecy.
[Sidenote: King Theebaw]
On his death, in September 1878, a terrible tragedy was enacted.
Mindon, being an Oriental, had many wives and many sons; these latter
he had dispersed as rulers of provinces with very good effect. When
the old king lay dying, one of his wives devised a scheme by which to
secure the succession to Prince Theebaw, for the reason that he was her
son-in-law by his marriage with Supya-lat, her daughter. With the most
fiendish designs Theebaw and the queen, in the king's name, summoned
all the princes to Mandalay. They arrived each with {45} his Oriental
retinue of women of all ages. The royal ladies were lodged in the
prison, which had been cleared for their reception; the princes were
received into the palace. "Under instructions from the King," a
massacre was perpetrated on the nights of February 15, 16, and 17,
1879. The queens and princesses and even royal children were done to
death by the "ruffians released for the purpose from the jail which was
now the scene of their cruelties, and their bodies were flung into a
hole already dug in the jail."[1] The princes were compelled to pass
through a certain doorway in the palace, where each one was in turn cut
down; it is even said that the queen-mother and Supya-lat with their
own hands did the deed. "Eight cartloads of the bodies of the Princes
of the Blood were conveyed out of the city by the western or 'Funeral
Gate,' and thrown into the river according to custom."
[1] _Parliamentary Papers_ (Burma), 1886. Quotations from the
_Mandalay Confidential Diary_, by Mr. R. B. Shaw, Resident, of February
19, 1879, and later dates.
It was calculated that some eighty souls thus perished. Even the
people were horrified. Our Resident, Mr. Shaw, could do no more than
express with vigour the light in which his Government would regard
these atrocities; but King Theebaw was inaccessible to argument, and
reasserted his right to take "such measures to prevent disturbance as
might be desirable," stating that such acts were in accordance with the
custom of the State, and that he would {46} go his own way without
regard to "censure or blame."[2]
[2] _Parliamentary Papers_ (Burma), 1886.
[Sidenote: 1883]
Owing to further gross outrages, the Resident was driven to fulfil his
threat of breaking off friendly relations with such a ruler; the
British flag was hauled down in August 1879, and the Residency
evacuated.
There were now no governors to keep order in the provinces: dacoits
sprang up, traders were robbed and killed, the people were oppressed,
and the land neglected. English merchants, however, continued to carry
on their business at their own risk; their boats plied up and down the
broad stream, and it was in their hospitable company that Gatacre spent
Christmas 1882 at Mandalay.
RANGOON, _January_ 11, 1883.
"MY DEAR FATHER,
"I send you a line to tell you my doings up-country at Christmas time.
I was sorry to leave Alice just then, but the opportunity of seeing
Mandalay for nothing was a great temptation.
"We went, a party of six, including myself, most of them merchants. We
had a steamer to ourselves, and the head of the Irrawaddy Flotilla
Company, a Mr. Swan, who took us, did everything in first-rate style.
The River Irrawaddy is a very difficult one to navigate at this dry
season of the year, owing to the constantly shifting sands. We did not
get aground, luckily, but we passed several steamers fast on the sands;
they sometimes remain there six months till the river fills and floats
them off. The steamers only drew 4 ft. 6 in. of water.
{47}
"We took four and a half days altogether to go up to Mandalay, but I
did not join them till the steamer reached Prome, so I had only three
days on board going up. The country, as far as we could see from the
banks, consists of large rich plains, covered with grass and scrub
jungle; very little cultivation, owing to the poverty of the people,
but if capital was forthcoming the soil would grow anything. Where the
crops were sown the yield was very large. There are low ranges of
hills on the right bank, and a highish range, called the Shan
Mountains, on the left bank.
"We were told there was but little game inland; we saw plenty of
wild-fowl, geese, etc. The poverty of the people is chiefly owing to
the King having started lotteries, which bring him in 10,000 Rs., about
£800, a day. The people have gone gambling mad, and barter everything
they have for tickets--property, children, everything. The King ruins
the country by his recklessness in squandering money; he presses the
people to such an extent that an up-country Burman will hardly take the
trouble to make money.
"Mandalay is nothing but a collection of mud huts and a few masonry
buildings, laid out in a beautiful style, all the houses in rows, with
large streets running between each at right angles. It was laid out by
Italians. None of the roads are made, so the bullock-carts passing
along them in the rains have cut them up to a frightful extent; and in
the rains they are impassable except quite at the edges, and then only
to pedestrians. Mandalay was only built twenty-five years ago;
formerly the capital was Ameerapoora, about six miles off, but was
changed to Mandalay by order of the King. {48} Ameerapoora is a
beautiful site--large trees, grass, and water everywhere. Some of the
carved pagodas are very beautiful, but going very much to decay. The
custom is, in Burma, that when a man builds a house or pagoda he only
can repair it, or his relations; the consequence is that in course of
time the building is forgotten and goes to pieces.
"We saw the war-boats on the river; they are long dug-out canoes, a
beautiful shape somewhat like this,[3] generally with a figure-head of
a peacock (their sacred bird). The canoes are gilt all over, and
manned with eighty to one hundred men; each has a short paddle, and is
armed with a 'dah,' the Burmese knife, a 2 ft. 6 in. blade, with handle
of 8 in. or 12 in. The canoes go like lightning, driven by the rowers,
who shout all the time. The Burmese are great boatmen, and their races
on the water are well worth seeing. They bet tremendously high on them.
[3] See drawing in letter. [Transcriber's note: this letter was
missing from the source book.]
"The second largest bell in the world is at Mendoon, near Mandalay;
this we went to see. It is 14 ft. high, and of a most enormous
thickness--about 1 ft. 6 in. I should say. It was originally suspended
on three enormous teak trees laid on masonry supports, but these have
given way, and now it rests in the ground. There is also near the bell
the commencement of a very large pagoda. Some one (I forget who) made
up his mind to build the largest pagoda in the world, so started upon
one. He got together an extraordinary amount of brick-work, but an
earthquake unfortunately stopped the work by splitting it up in several
places. It is about 100 yards square and high, so you can imagine the
size of it. It is built with {49} large red bricks, 2 ft. long by 1
ft. wide by 4 in. thick.
"We stopped in Mandalay two and a half days. I rode about all over the
place, and found the people very civil, though they are very suspicious
of Englishmen.
"We came down in one and a half days to Prome, where I caught the night
train down, as I had to be back on New Year's Day, my leave being up.
The trip was a most enjoyable one."
[Sidenote: Second-in-command]
The temporary staff billet having run out at the end of 1882, Gatacre
went home on three months' leave early in the following year, and when
he returned in May took up the post of second-in-command of his
regiment, which in those days meant taking command of one wing of the
battalion. This brought no change of residence, as the 77th were then
quartered in Rangoon.
He joined heartily in everything that was going on, and had, moreover,
interests of his own which lay beyond the field of duty. The spring
and autumn race-meetings were a great event. Though he does not seem
to have owned any racing ponies, he was always in request as a jockey.
Every morning he would hack down to the racecourse, and being a light
weight was often asked to give a gallop to the ponies that were in
training. In a letter of June 1883 he says: "I rode in five races, and
won two, the hurdle race and an open race--the best race of the
meeting--which pleased me."
{50}
There was a steeplechase pony named Free Lance that he rode to victory
many times. The owner of Free Lance appeared as Mr. Darwood, a
gentleman of Rangoon, of mixed nationality; but I am inclined to think
that Free Lance was in reality the property of King Theebaw, for the
General told me that at one time he had half shares with King Theebaw
in a racing pony, which he rode, and there is no other period to which
this incident could be attached. I have now in my possession a gold
scarf-pin that King Theebaw sent as a recognition of Gatacre's services
in the matter of this pony. Although this secret was kept so close
that none of the regimental officers got wind of it, it is not
considered improbable.[4] It was well known that Gatacre had friends
amongst the leading men of Rangoon, and it is entirely in accordance
with his character that he should have been personally acquainted with
his native neighbours. Indeed it is not altogether impossible that he
was engaged in some sort of secret intelligence duties for Government,
for he told me that at one time he used to disguise himself and go and
talk in the Native Bazaar, and it is certain that he acquired the
Burmese language, and could even write it to some extent.
[4] As King Theebaw was at that time an independent friendly sovereign,
there is nothing contrary to any regulations in Gatacre's association
with him in this matter.
[Sidenote: Iolanthe]
In the summer of 1882 the regimental officers and others in the station
got up a performance of _Patience_, in which Gatacre {51} figured as
one of the Dragoon Chorus. In the following year _Iolanthe_ was
produced. Gatacre was anxious that the audience should include persons
of all nationalities; and in order that those who could not understand
the English words should have some key to the action, he made a précis
of the play, and, having written it in Hindustani characters, had it
lithographed, and distributed with the programmes. A copy of this
curious document, which covers three sides of foolscap, and is signed
in full, is still to be seen in the scrap-book of the officer who
joined the 77th Regiment for love of his tutor at Sandhurst.
At the end of September Gatacre heard of the birth of his third son,
John Kirwan, now in the 11th Bengal Lancers.
In December 1883 the regiment left Rangoon for Secunderabad.
{52}
CHAPTER IV
1884-1885
SECUNDERABAD
[Sidenote: 1884]
I have read in a recent biography of Alexander Hamilton that "the power
of his intellect was hardly suspected under the ambush of his
extraordinary charm."[1] This was equally true of Gatacre. Moreover,
the high standard of his physical endowments was in itself a mask to
his mental abilities; in reality, his physical force was but the
evidence and the result of his intellectual energy.
[1] Alexander Hamilton, by F. S. Oliver, p. 149.
[Sidenote: Camp of exercise]
He turned the whole of his power on to the work in hand; even when
partly disabled, he would not allow himself to be cheated of the
pleasure and opportunity that his work afforded. Of course the
opportunity that his soul yearned for was active service; he was daily
discovering his own value, and longed to prove himself in the fierce
furnace of war.
The year 1884 opened with the nearest approach to these conditions that
can be contrived without an enemy. A camp of exercise on a very large
scale was held near Bangalore, {53} at which 10,000 troops were
assembled. Sir Charles Keyes commanded the First Division, in which
the 77th were included, and General H. Prendergast had command of the
Second Division, with Colonel W. F. Gatacre as
Assistant-Quarter-Master-General.
In spite of the misfortune recorded in Gatacre's own letter given
below, he more than satisfied his General, who writes on June 11, 1909:
"I found him a remarkably clever, zealous, and efficient officer.
During the operations his horse fell, and injured his ankle so that he
could neither ride nor walk, but that did not prevent him from thinking
out and arranging all our plans; though disabled and in great pain, he
would write till two in the morning, and all went well with the
Division, which he accompanied carried on a stretcher, owing to his
devotion."
Below is Gatacre's own account of it all:
HEADQUARTERS 2ND DIVISION,
CAMP KRISTNARAJAHPUR,
_January_ 27, 1884.
"MY DEAR FATHER,
"I send you a short letter by this mail, but will write at length by
next one, and tell you all about the manoeuvres. They are over now and
have been most successful. I have enjoyed them thoroughly, though I
have been most unfortunate. I told you one of my horses or charger
ponies died of anthrax a few days before leaving Burma (I had just sold
the brute for 600 rupees); and the other charger, which I had had for
two years, and who {54} was a first-rate animal, died of colic the day
after I arrived here. Fortunately for me a friend of mine was kicked
off his horse a few days after coming here, and hurt a good deal, so he
asked me to ride him, which I have done all through the fortnight's
work. Though a very fine horse, he, like many walers, was very nervous
and shy, and the last day of the manoeuvring he got nervous in jumping
a nullah, and instead of jumping it he jumped into it, and rolled over
me, giving me a regular flattening out; he has damaged my ankle and
both my knees slightly, and I think it will be at least a month before
I can do anything at all, though I am perfectly well in every way. The
doctor says that the small bones of the foot are crushed, but that in a
month I shall be all right. It was very annoying, just at the finish,
wasn't it? Sir Frederick Roberts came to see me, and said he was very
sorry about it; so did General Hardinge, the C.-in-C. in Bombay; he
came and had a long talk in my tent, and told me all about John and his
regiment. He thinks a great deal of John, and says his regiment is one
of his best. Your luminous match-box has furnished lights for all
these big people; it is always on my table; I shall scratch their names
on the back of it. I wanted to see Sir Frederick Roberts about the
command of the regiment; so I asked to see him in the usual way, and he
sent word to say he would be glad to see me; so I got a litter and went
across. He was most kind, said he knew all about it, that he would
give his support, and that I need have no doubts on the matter. He
asked me if I would like a staff appointment; I said I would, but that
I wanted to command the regiment.
"At present the camp has all broken up; {55} my regiment goes
to-morrow, and I go with it. I have not seen my own regiment since I
came here scarcely; as they were in the 1st Division and I was A.Q.M.G.
of the 2nd Division."
[Sidenote: In command]
On June 24, 1884, Gatacre realised his immediate desire, and succeeded
to the command of the 2nd Battalion Middlesex Regiment, as the old 77th
had been renamed.
Although nothing occurred during his period of command to distinguish
him from many another equally efficient officer, still a recapitulation
of the qualities which remain in the minds of those who served under
him will give us some idea of what he then was. I am mainly indebted
for the material for the following sketch of Gatacre as a Commanding
Officer to the kindness of Colonel N. W. Barnardiston, M.V.O., who
writes in July 1909:
"I was adjutant at the time, and never before or since have I served
under a better or more efficient battalion commander, nor have I come
across one during my experience on the staff."
Gatacre was forty years old when he succeeded Colonel Colquhoun; he had
served very little with the regiment, but the time spent on the staff
had added to his professional value. While his acute perceptions and
easy receptiveness had ripened his judgment on many points, his
simplicity of character and natural integrity remained unimpaired. He
had downright notions about right and wrong, but was influenced more by
the spirit than by the letter of the {56} bond: he was very just, but
never hard, always showing a lofty sympathy for those in trouble of any
sort, and a tender consideration for their feelings. There was about
him a curious balance of moral austerity and physical
tenderheartedness; these apparently contradictory qualities both came
into fuller play when in the field. He taught the regiment to work
with the disinterested spirit that animated himself; to work for the
work's sake: he insisted on every duty being done correctly and
conscientiously and strictly according to regulations. He never shrank
from the disagreeable duty of rebuke, where the interests of the
service were at stake; but at the same time he never unduly worried his
subordinates, or interfered with their province, and in no way passed
the frontier of his own department. If he wanted more work, he looked
beyond and not below his own sphere of influence.
Even at this time Gatacre's willingness to accept responsibility and to
undertake troublesome and unexpected tasks was remarkable. Where some
men might raise objections and fear obstructions when asked, or even
ordered, to get something done that was new or out of the common, he
would welcome the call on his resources, and do his utmost, by
enlisting the goodwill and co-operation of those about him, to carry
the business through. Later on, one of his colleagues in Poona looked
upon his trick of saying, "No difficulty about that," as evidence of a
very valuable quality; and in {57} the Office in Bombay there was a
joke that the word "impossible" was not allowed.
It was a sign of the lack of vanity in his composition that Gatacre
took so long to find out that there was anything exceptional about
himself, but it is now admitted on all sides that his capacity for work
was far in excess of the average. According to Mr. G. W. Steevens in
1898, "his body was all steel wire." He was certainly lean and light;
at sixty he discovered to his great satisfaction that his weight was
the same, ten stone two, as it had been as a subaltern in Peshawur. In
appearance also he changed very little, looking always about ten years
younger than his age. His back was short in proportion to the length
of his limbs, which gave the impression of a shorter man than he
measured, but at the same time this was the secret of his graceful seat
on a horse, and of his extraordinary walking powers. Like the good
horses that he loved to bestride, Gatacre was fast and free, and had
the staying powers of the thorough-bred animal; it was inevitable that
such a one should be sometimes difficult to "follow," and that other
men should occasionally feel that he called upon them for exertions
that were beyond their powers.
His whole heart was in his profession; and with the material that was
now under his hand he developed an aptitude for the practical training
of both officers and men. Acting on ideas suggested by the recent camp
at Bangalore, {58} he initiated small field-days at Secunderabad, in
which one major with one half-battalion was pitted against another with
the remainder. This was before the days of staff-rides and annual
camps of exercise, and was so much of a novelty that his adjutant
writes that many of his officers "learnt more of the art of organising
manoeuvres, drawing up schemes, and issuing orders than it was then
possible to do at the Staff College." Moreover, to accompany Gatacre
on a field-day was a lesson in horsemanship. He had two capital Arab
ponies, and would often lend the spare one to his adjutant or galloper.
No obstacle stopped him, though sometimes these clever little animals
were expected to move over the most impossible-looking country--craggy
hills, big rocks and boulders, and the steep sides of deep nullahs. If
really pounded, he would slip off and lead or drive his pony, until at
the earliest moment he would be on its back again.
[Sidenote: 1885]
His gift for administration was further exercised in perfecting the
regulations for the rapid turn-out of the Movable Column which had its
base at Secunderabad: every little detail was most carefully thought
out on the lines of a far larger mobilisation, and every man knew
exactly where he had to go, and what he had to do, whenever he should
hear the "Alarm."
If he was impatient of laziness or shirking, he was, on the other hand,
generous in his appreciation of honest work. He made it a practice to
help good men to get forward. There were at that time in India a large
number of {59} extra-regimental appointments open to non-commissioned
officers. The natural training-ground for such aspirants was in the
orderly room, but few commanding officers cared to part with a man who
had just become really competent in his particular job and valuable to
themselves; with the result that the more promising and ambitious young
fellows were unwilling to serve. But during Gatacre's reign the plan
was reversed: if a good man, no matter what his duties were, or how
difficult he would be to replace, applied for a suitable and desirable
position outside the regiment, Gatacre would heartily support the
application. Very soon there were plenty of keen young soldiers eager
to qualify for billets which were the sure road to advancement. When
as a General Officer he had the opportunity of pushing forward
promising young officers, he acted on the same principle; he was always
ready to train, but never hesitated to let others reap the harvest that
he had sown.
Thus in a hundred ways the Colonel built up a reputation for kindness,
efficiency, originality, and power: and we are not surprised to read
that "his period of command was a very happy one for the 77th."
In April 1885 the far-reaching consequences of the Russian scare made
themselves felt at Secunderabad, where the following telegram was
received:
"Warn for service the 2nd Middlesex Regiment and 24th Madras Native
Infantry. Detail hereafter."
{60}
The excitement was intense. No officer was allowed to leave his
bungalow for a walk without saying in which direction he was going. To
Gatacre the idea of leading his regiment into action must have
presented visions of endless opportunities, and those who knew him must
always regret that he had no chance to display as a regimental officer
that personal valour and forwardness under fire for which, as a General
Officer, he has been subjected to so much criticism.
This state of expectant commotion lasted for six weeks, and then all
hopes were quenched, for on May 26 official intimation reached the
Commanding Officer that:
"War with Russia having been averted, the regiment need no longer hold
itself in readiness for active service."
This was the second time that he had had to bury his disappointment,
and again a third time was it to happen.
[Sidenote: D.Q.M.G.]
It was clear to all that before long there would be another Burmese
War. The grievances of Europeans against King Theebaw had gone on
accumulating: diplomatic efforts had entirely failed to secure
attention or redress, the patience of the Foreign Office was at an end,
and the Government of India was directed to prepare an expeditionary
force to march on Mandalay, and thereby to teach King Theebaw that he
could not afford to flout the British Government. This {61} mission
was entrusted to General Prendergast. Gatacre volunteered to come down
and help his former Chief in the embarkation of the troops at Madras
for Rangoon. Having proved his value as a staff officer, and having
heard of his previous journey to Mandalay, Prendergast was most anxious
to take Gatacre with him; but all the posts had been filled, and to the
General's "grievous disappointment and much to the disadvantage of the
Government," the application to take him as Military Secretary or
Special Transport Officer was refused, and Gatacre had to be content
with the thanks of the Government of India for his services in the
embarkation of troops which he was not permitted to accompany.[2]
[2] _Proceedings of Government_, No. 6502, November 17, 1885.
[Sidenote: Secunderabad]
In a later chapter we shall follow the fortunes of the Expedition, but
for the moment all thought of Burma was swept out of Gatacre's mind by
the prospect of serving on the Headquarters Staff of the army. On
November 24, 1885, the following telegrams were exchanged:
"If agreeable to you, Sir Frederick proposes to recommend you to
Government as Deputy Quarter-Master-General; you will have to join at
once if Government approve."
To which this reply was sent:
"I gratefully accept His Excellency's offer; am ready to go anywhere."
On December 11 the following Farewell Order was issued:
{62}
"Lieutenant-Colonel Gatacre wishes the Battalion farewell.
"He thanks the officers, non-commissioned officers, and men for the way
in which they have zealously and loyally carried out his orders during
the short eighteen months he has had the honour of commanding them, and
will always take the deepest interest in their welfare.
"He especially thanks his regimental staff, viz. Lieutenant and
Adjutant N. W. Barnardiston, and Captain and Quarter-Master Hunt, for
their good service as Adjutant and Quarter-Master respectively, and
Lieutenant Savile and Lieutenant Burton, who have on many occasions
officiated in their capacities.
"He wishes the 2nd Battalion Middlesex Regiment many happy New Years,
and success wherever they go."
{63}
CHAPTER V
1885-1889
BLACK MOUNTAIN EXPEDITION
Sir Frederick Roberts succeeded Sir Donald Stewart as
Commander-in-Chief in India in 1885. After short leave home the new
Chief returned just in time to preside over a great concentration of
troops near Delhi in December of that year. It was the biggest thing
of the sort that had yet been attempted; the manoeuvres occupied about
three weeks, and concluded on January 8, 1886, with a Grand Review in
which about 35,000 men took part. It would have been a splendid sight,
had it not been spoilt by a deluge of rain. The Viceroy, Lord
Dufferin, was on parade, and it was afterwards suggested that it was
the firing of his salute that had brought down the rain. Anyhow, just
as his flag was run up, the storm burst and the rain pitilessly poured
down on the columns of men as they carried out the unaltered programme
of the day. The march-past occupied six hours. According to an
eye-witness, the "trot-past of cavalry and artillery in spite of
everything was magnificent, and could have been performed {64} by no
other troops.... The Viceroy sat on his horse through the rain with
exemplary patience, and we only hope that he will be none the worse."
General Chapman[1] had just taken up the post of
Quarter-Master-General, and first saw his Deputy at this camp. Gatacre
seems from the outset to have made a good impression on his Chief, who
describes him in a letter from Delhi as "a man of active intelligence,
quick and ready to do anything, a good rider, and a popular man."
[1] Now General Sir Edward Chapman, K.C.B.
[Sidenote: At Headquarters]
It is the province of the Deputy to take charge of the office in which
he is working--that is, to acquaint himself with all that is going on
in the department and to know all the staff and the clerks personally.
On his arrival at Headquarters Gatacre rapidly gathered up all the
threads of his new work, and made himself more and more valuable to his
Chief; while from his own point of view he used to say that it was at
this time that he learnt how to put a finish to his work in the office,
and to appreciate the scope and importance to the army at large of the
individual work done at Headquarters. As is often the case after a
campaign, there was much important reorganisation worked out during the
next few years; new schemes of training, housing and surveying, were
initiated and carried out. From the inside of the
Quarter-Master-General's office Gatacre could in a short time get a
comprehension of many points of {65} army administration such as a
lifetime in the field would fail to give.
[Sidenote: 1886]
During the winter months the Commander-in-Chief goes on tour,
accompanied by a few staff officers: sometimes the
Quarter-Master-General would go himself and leave Gatacre in charge,
sometimes it was the other way round. One year when the Q.M.G. was
making an extended tour, Mrs. Chapman was much pleased at getting a
visit from Colonel Gatacre every morning as he went down to office. In
response to her appreciation of these attentions he averred that he
looked upon her as part of the office, and must see that all was well.
The two men were associated in this department for more than three
years, and by the time that General Chapman had to resign (owing to bad
health) a fast friendship had sprung up between them, one from which
"the all-assuming months and years" have taken no part. On hearing of
his friend's death in 1906 General Chapman wrote:
"A more loyally devoted assistant I could not have found, active,
untiring, and self-sacrificing; the public service and the interests of
others were always before him. His gallantry and forwardness on
service were acknowledged by all, but it was late in life that he so
distinguished himself. I recall chiefly the straight-forwardness and
honesty of his help and advice, and remember his never-failing and
cheery support whenever we had a difficulty to face."
Owing to the illness of the Quarter-Master-General, {66} Gatacre
accompanied the Commander-in-Chief on two long tours in the spring of
1886. On the first he saw many places of great historical interest,
such as Cawnpore, Futtehghur, Lucknow; and in the second he was taken
to Peshawur and Lundi Kotal, where many interesting problems of
frontier defence were discussed on the ground. For two months in 1886
he officiated as Quarter-Master-General, pending the arrival of Sir
William Lockhart, who was to act for General Chapman while away on long
leave.
[Sidenote: 1887]
Christmas was spent at Calcutta, and early in 1887 Gatacre was again on
the move. During this year he was twice entrusted with an independent
mission; in March he accompanied the Chief on his official visit to
Peshawur, Kohat, Rawulpindi, and Quetta, and was afterwards sent to
survey and report upon the proposed line for a military road from
Loralai in Beluchistan to Dera Ghazi Khan on the Indus. His abstract
of daily work shows that he was out all day exploring and surveying.
His report shows that he thoroughly investigated all questions relating
to the water supply and the area of the camping-grounds on the road,
and deals with many questions as to the safety and comfort of the
working parties and their guards. Although the country to be explored
covered 183 miles, he worked with such celerity that the work was
completed in thirteen days.
[Sidenote: On tour]
Writing from Bannu a week or two later he finds time to send a
comprehensive account of his doings:
{67}
"I think I wrote you last from Loralai, beyond Quetta to the east:
well, from there I explored a new road which is to run through Mekhtar,
Kingri, Rukni, to Dera Ghazi Khan on the Indus. It has been approved,
and is to be carried out at once; as in the event of troops moving up
towards Kandahar, it would be the route along which all our regiments
and stores from the Punjab would move. The country is a wild one at
present, savage, with no cultivation or inhabitants, except a few
robbers: but the lie of the road is good, and the gradients are easy.
Of course a made road will draw the large Kafilas of camels with
merchandise from one end to the other, and as the roads will be under
our protection the native merchants will gladly use it, and this will
gradually people the various halting-places, and so settle the country
by degrees. There was much game along the route; markhor, a large goat
with splendid horns; gud, a large sheep with very large curly horns,
wolves and small game, hares, partridges, wood-pigeons, etc. I had
very little time for shooting, but shot one markhor and much small game
here and there as I came across it; but as I had a lot of surveying to
do all day, I had no time to make excursions after game alone, though I
should much have liked to have had a turn with Stephen in some of the
hills through which I passed. You would have been delighted with the
country in some places, something like Scotland with fewer trees and
more sun, but comparatively cool for India. The only disagreeable
thing about it is the general want of water and the number of poisonous
snakes. Water is found only in certain streams and in single springs,
and is very valuable. Of course, any good road which is {68} required
has to follow the line of water, but the rivers commence to flow at any
point in the river-bed, and after becoming a rushing torrent, disappear
as suddenly as they arose, into the ground and are seen no more; where
they go to no one knows, but you may seek in vain further down the bed
of the river and not find water. In some cases the water reappears in
the stream ten miles lower down, and disappears again as before. The
snakes are everywhere, and it was a few days before I left Khur that a
young engineer named Hackman was bitten. I saw his death in
yesterday's paper. I killed several cobras while marching, I am glad
to say."
In November of the same year he was sent on a similar mission to
Sikkim. It was discovered that a private treaty had been signed by
which the Rajah had declared that Sikkim was subject only to China and
Tibet, thus repudiating the British suzerainty. By way of preparation
for an expedition to settle this question Gatacre was sent up to report
upon the road over the Jelap-La along which troops would move on to
Lingtu, the capital of Sikkim. Though it was at that time held by a
hostile force of Tibetans, he approached near enough to sketch the fort
at Lingtu. His report and his sketches were afterwards incorporated
with other matter in a blue-book dealing with the affairs of Sikkim.
Sir Thomas Graham asserts that the information set down was of great
value to him when in the following spring he led a force into Lingtu
and brought the incident to a satisfactory conclusion.
{69}
[Sidenote: At Simla]
In a letter to his father from Simla of September 1887 Gatacre relates
the following story:
"Did I tell you I was nearly polished off by a madman with a revolver?
He shot two men he came across, then got on to a rock and defied the
crowd, but I got a stick and went for him, to prevent his doing more
mischief. He warned me not to come near him, but I spoke to him in his
own language, and never took my eyes off him, and when he was going to
have a shot at me he suddenly changed his mind and blew a hole in his
breast about three or four inches in diameter. The fact was he was not
quite sure whether he had a spare round for himself, and these
fanatical fellows always destroy themselves after doing as much
mischief as they are able; when he shot himself I was just within reach
of him, but too late to knock the pistol out of his hands."
This incident attracted a good deal of attention at the time, as the
murderer was the personal servant of a resident member of the United
Service Club. He had begun by shooting at another servant, and
inflicted a mortal wound; the next shot struck the chowkidar, or
caretaker, in the arm. Gatacre then appeared on the scene and played
the part he describes.
There is another story told of him that belongs to this same year.
On September 27 Lady Dufferin gave a ball at Government House; all the
world was there and Gatacre among them. As was his invariable habit,
he stayed to the end, and early in the {70} morning told a friend that
he was just starting for a ride to Umballa, but would be back in office
the next day. To accomplish this design he had arranged for ponies to
be in readiness at the various stages along the Old Road from Simla to
Umballa, which is a distance of ninety-seven miles, descending about
6,000 ft. from the mountains to the plains. As far as Kalka they were
hired ponies, from there to Umballa he had borrowed mounts from a
friend, using nine ponies each way. Leaving Simla at 5.15 a.m., he
reached Umballa at 2.30 that afternoon. At 4 o'clock he started back
and dismounted at Simla again at 3.5 a.m. That is to say, after
dancing till daybreak, he covered little short of two hundred miles in
twenty-two hours, and turned up again at 10 o'clock ready and fit for
his office work as usual.
It is unnecessary to seek for any pretext for such exertion; the fun of
the rapid ride, the desire to excel, were quite sufficient stimulus for
him. He told the newspapers at the time that he wanted to show what
office men could do.
But before very long he was to have an opportunity of putting these
powers to more practical uses. In September 1888 Gatacre and two of
his colleagues on the Headquarter Staff were given posts on the Hazara
Field Force, then concentrating near Abbottabad.
[Sidenote: Hazara border]
After the Mutiny the Hazara and Peshawur borders became "a
rallying-point for mutinous Sepoys and traitors in arms who had to flee
from British justice." There was in particular {71} a sect known as
the Sittana Fanatics, who continued to stir up coalitions against our
power, as they had previously done against our Sikh predecessors in the
Punjab. An expedition under Sir Sydney Cotton in 1858 advanced into
the mountains, drove the Hindustani fanatics from Sittana, destroyed
their forts, razed their dwellings to the ground, and extorted an
undertaking from the neighbouring tribes that the rebels should not be
allowed a passage through their territory.
[Sidenote: 1888]
Although the centre of disturbance was thus forced back at the point of
the sword to Malka, it was not long before numerous raids on unarmed
traders, and other outrages, brought the peace of the frontier again
into question. Our allies were either unable or unwilling to carry out
their pledges, and in 1863 Sir Neville Chamberlain led a force through
the Ambeyla Defile. This expedition differed from the others in that
all the contiguous tribes were in a state of disaffection, and on this
account there was more fighting than in the previous punitive
expeditions. The story of the repeated capture and loss of the Eagle's
Nest and Crag Picquet still makes brave reading, and afforded moreover
most satisfactory proof of the loyalty of our reorganised Native Army.
It was noted with satisfaction in 1888 that very few of the Hindustani
fanatics were to be found in the ranks of the enemy, showing that the
lesson of 1863 was more lasting in its effect than the others had been.
The policy of the Government {72} had never altered; in every case the
tribe was informed--
"That the British Government did not covet their possessions, nor those
of other neighbouring tribes, with whom it desired to be at peace; but
that it expected tribes would restrain individual members from
committing unprovoked outrages on British subjects, and afford redress
when they are committed; that when a whole tribe, instead of affording
redress, seeks to screen the individual offenders, the British
Government has no alternative but to hold the whole tribe
responsible."[2]
[2] _A Record of the Expeditions against the North-West Frontier
Tribes_, by Paget and Mason (1884), p. 41.
The enforcing of this principle has led to the numerous little wars
that have afforded the opportunities for distinction to all ranks of
which the personnel of an army is so quick to avail itself. Each
expedition has usually been of a few weeks' duration only; sometimes
there was very little actual fighting; sometimes there was very little
political gain; but always there has been a story of hardship and
valour.
The Hazara Field Force of 1888 was mobilised for the punishment of
certain tribes inhabiting the slopes of the Black Mountain, a region
lying on the left bank of the Indus, north of Abbottabad. It was some
years since we had had a reckoning with Hassanzais and Akazais in
particular, and they had been showing increased insolence in their
attitude and daring in their raids.
{73}
[Sidenote: Battye killed]
A sufficient occasion was all that was needed to bring about open
hostility, and this was afforded by the tribesmen themselves on June
18, 1888. On that day Colonel Battye and Captain Urmston conducted a
route-march with some three score Goorkhas from the frontier post at
Oghi; they had gone perhaps a little nearer to the frontier than was
quite expedient, but it was afterwards shown that they had never
actually left British territory. When about ten miles from Oghi, they
were fired at from two points simultaneously. Colonel Battye ordered
the Goorkhas to rush a ridge just ahead on which they could make a
stand. The ridge was secured, but, unfortunately, the two British
officers turned back to help a wounded man, and, while they were thus
separated from the troops, both were cut down with swords. The Subadar
(native officer) at once took command, though one arm had been disabled
by a blow from a stone, and a bullet had gone through his thigh, and
his head was streaming with blood. He collected the party, and marched
back to the spot where the two officers had fallen. Keeping up a
spirited fire to drive back the tribesmen, he succeeded in recovering
both bodies, and brought the whole party back into camp at 8.30 that
night. This man, Subadar Kishnbir Nagar Koti, had already gained the
Order of Merit three times in the Kabul Campaign.[3]
[3] See _Civil and Military Gazette_, June 1888.
As the Headman of the tribe refused to hand over the offenders, the
Government was driven {74} to avenge this outrage by sending an armed
force into the country of the Hassenzais and Akazais, who were held
responsible.
[Sidenote: Hazara Field Force]
This force, which numbered about 8,000 men, was organised in four
columns, each formed of one British and two native regiments. A
peculiar feature of this force was that no regiment was allowed to send
more than six hundred men, which was a device to ensure the selection
of a picked body of men. The late Sir John McQueen, who was then
commanding the Punjab Frontier Force, was given command of the
expedition, and Colonel W. F. Gatacre was appointed his Chief Staff
Officer. This was naturally a moment of the liveliest satisfaction and
anticipation for him. At last he found himself on active service; at
last he was to face the ordeal for which he had been training for
twenty-six years.
Three of the columns marched out of Oghi on October 2, twenty-four
hours' grace having been allowed beyond the time named in the ultimatum
sent to the Maliks of the tribes. No. 4 Column, under
Brigadier-General Galbraith,[4] had assembled at Derband on the River
Indus, and was known throughout the campaign as the River Column; its
function was to prevent any trans-Indus tribes moving eastwards across
the river to join their neighbours, and it was hoped that the area of
hostilities could thus be confined to those spurs of the Black Mountain
where lay the heart of the disaffection.
[4] The late Sir William Galbraith, K.C.B.]
[Illustration: COLONEL W. F. GATACRE, D.S.O., 1888.]
{75}
The main mass of the Black Mountain lies in a curve of the River Indus
between Thakot and Arab. To the north and west its slopes are cut into
ridges which descend precipitously into the deep gorge of the river; to
the east the eye rests on a bewildering succession of pine-clad
mountain ranges, till, stretching over the vale of Kashmir, it reaches
the line of eternal snows.
The three mountain columns met with little opposition as they made
their way up the spurs overlooking the Agror Valley. The Headquarter
Camp was established at Khaim Gali, near the summit of the range, and
from that point General McQueen directed the movements against the
various villages. After about a fortnight General Channer, commanding
No. 1 Column, was able to open up communication with General Galbraith
in the valley below, at Kunhar. The latter at the outset had met with
some slight opposition at Kotkai, resulting in the loss of two officers
and five men, but had since made considerable progress up the river,
and had moreover come to an understanding with the tribes in his
immediate neighbourhood. The mountainous nature of the country made it
extremely difficult to secure unity of action in the two regions. It
became imperative that General McQueen should know what General
Galbraith had done and had promised. To effect this purpose Gatacre
offered to make his way down on foot to Kunhar, where the River Column
had its headquarters.
{76}
[Sidenote: Visits Galbraith]
By this time he was fairly well acquainted with the lie of the country,
for he had been out daily with the columns, and, according to his
colleague, Major Elles,[5] "had worked harder than any man in the
force." He must have known that the direct descent from the ridge on
which the Headquarter Camp at Khaim Gali was situated was a series of
precipices. Taking the figures given on a map compiled for the
expedition of 1891, the elevation of Khaim Gali is 8,680 ft., while the
camp at Kunhar in the Indus valley is 1,560 ft., which means a clear
descent of 7,120 ft. in a horizontal distance of less than five miles,
though the distance actually marched worked out at fourteen miles.
Major Elles accompanied Colonel Gatacre, and they took an escort of
fifty Khybari Rifles. The party left camp at 6 a.m., and reached
Kunhar at noon. Although it was then October, the sun had great power
in the middle of the day; the narrow valleys down which they crept were
very stuffy, and as they approached the end of the journey the air
became very close and oppressive. Major Elles confesses that he felt
the sun very much, was tired out, and "could not have attempted the
climb back again that day. But nothing," he says, "seemed to tire
Gatacre, who was the hardest man I ever met. He neither drank nor
smoked, and ate very little."
[5] Now Lieut.-General Sir Edmond Elles, G.C.I.E., K.C.B.
After settling the business that was the motif of the journey, and
partaking of the hospitality of the River Column headquarter mess,
Gatacre {77} announced his intention of starting back at 2 o'clock.
The men who acted as escort were dismayed at the Colonel Sahib's
startling decision; indeed, only half of them were capable of setting
off at once, but these insisted on being allowed to do so. Half-way up
the mountain they were dead-beat; and as a small party able to take
their place had been accidentally met with, the services of the
newcomers were impressed, and Gatacre proceeded. It is a question for
mountaineers whether the descent or the ascent was the more trying to a
man's muscular system, and a question for Anglo-Indians whether the sun
is hotter in the forenoon or the afternoon; anyhow, it must have been
fairly fierce at 2 p.m. in the deep gorge of the Indus, and to have
reached Khaim Gali again the same evening was an achievement worthy of
mention in despatches. We are told that the first part of the ascent
was very precipitous for about 2,500 ft., and impracticable even for
mule carriage; the next 1,500 ft. was nothing but a succession of
steps. Farther on, the line lay across terraced cultivation, which
involved climbing up the walls supporting the fields, and walking
across the soft plough which they enclosed, while throughout the march
there were "passages which were impossible for anything but a goat."
At 11 p.m. that same night Gatacre marched into the Headquarter Camp at
Khaim Gali, the only man who had completed the double journey. The two
marches had occupied six hours and nine hours respectively, and two
hours only had {78} been spent in the triple business of negotiation,
refreshment, and repose.
This feat did not pass unnoticed at the time. The editor of the _Broad
Arrow_ of October 20, 1888, says:
"The story is suggestive of physical endurance and courage, and may be
read with profit by fireside warriors and cynical philosophers upon the
decline of the British officer."
[Sidenote: Active service]
Such an exchange of views between a confidential messenger from
Headquarters and the officer commanding a column operating
independently must always have great military value to the commander of
an expedition, and it is evident that the consultation in this case was
not without result, for in despatches we read that the first phase of
the operations reached its conclusion on October 20. The Akazais and
Hassanzais made complete submission, and by the end of the month had
paid their fines in full. The object of the second phase was the
coercion on similar lines of the Parari Saiads and Tikariwals. In the
same way this involved much marching and counter-marching over the same
"exigeant" class of country. Although there was scarcely any fighting,
doubtless all those who took part in these operations learned many of
the supplementary lessons of war which no manoeuvres can ever teach. A
British officer in a Goorkha regiment tells us how he learned one of
these lessons from Gatacre himself.
The Brigade had just reached its {79} camping-ground: there had been a
very arduous and hot march, finishing with a stiff climb up-hill. The
Goorkha officer had flung himself on the ground, feeling dead-beat,
when Gatacre rode up, and began making inquiry as to the water supply
of the camp.
"Who is the Quarter-Master of this regiment?" he asked.
"I am, sir," said the officer, struggling to his feet.
"What has been done to secure the water supply from contamination?"
"Nothing, sir."
"I must have a guard put over it at once. Where is the spring?"
The spring was a thousand feet below. The commanding officer of the
regiment, coming upon the scene, protested that his officer had only
just come up.
"Never mind," said Gatacre. "It is of the utmost importance. I order
you as Quarter-Master to go down and see that a sufficient guard is put
round the spring, and that the animals are kept at a proper distance."
Much against his inclination the officer set about carrying out this
injunction. On his arrival at the spring he saw the urgency of the
order he was sent down to execute, and confessed the justice of the
call upon his further exertions. Soldiers, bheesties, and animals were
crowding round the pool, which, fed by a small spring, was the only
water supply for the Brigade. He quickly restored order, made
arrangements for {80} the watering of the different units, and, by thus
securing the purity of the head-water, eliminated the chance of fever
to thousands of men.
[Sidenote: 1888-9]
On October 28 General Channer occupied Thakot without resistance; on
November 7 a deputation from the Parari Saiads came in and made full
submission, as the Tikariwals had done already. On November 12 the
Hazara Field Force began to disperse, having been under arms for six
weeks. The casualties to the whole force amounted to twenty-seven men
killed, fifty-nine wounded, and eight who had died of disease, showing
that, from a military point of view, it was essentially a minor
campaign. Moreover, politically, the results were inconclusive, but to
Gatacre it was the field on which he had won his spurs: "the loyal
support and valuable aid" that he had afforded his Chief were now for
ever recorded; his initiative, energy, and physical powers had been
proved in the field; his possession of military ability and soldierly
qualities in a marked degree was now established.
It is difficult to understand why he was awarded the Distinguished
Service Order, which had been newly created as a recognition of the
services of junior officers in the field, while his rank as substantive
colonel in the army fully qualified him for a Companionship of the
Bath; but so it was. Seven years had yet to run before the latter
decoration was awarded, after the Chitral Campaign.
[Sidenote: Safe home]
Colonel Gatacre and Major Elles did not return {81} direct to
Headquarters on the disbanding of the force, but made an extended march
down the Indus, and reached Calcutta early in December. When writing
his Christmas greeting to his father, Gatacre says:
"We are all returned safely from the Black Mountain, and I must say I
for one thoroughly enjoyed myself; it was rough going, of course, but
the climate was good, and there was plenty of outdoor exercise--such a
pleasant change after the office life."
After another summer spent at Simla, Gatacre was sent in October 1889
to act for Sir George Wolseley, who was then commanding the Mandalay
Brigade. Throughout the three and a half years that he had served with
the Headquarter Staff, much of the work in the Quarter-Master-General's
office had had reference to the welfare of the troops which since
November 1885 had been operating in Upper Burma. Gatacre had taken
moreover a personal interest in the success and well-being of the Army
of Occupation, for his brother John had been serving there in command
of his regiment, the 23rd Bombay Infantry.
The events which had occurred since Gatacre first visited Mandalay in
1883 will be dealt with in the next chapter.
{82}
CHAPTER VI
1889-1890
MANDALAY
It was with difficulty that the British Government had lived so long at
peace with Theebaw, King of Burma. In 1883 he sent a mission to
Europe, ostensibly to study western civilisation, but it was recognised
that in reality he was making advances to the French Government, who
were of course our neighbours on the east, in Siam. There was also
friction over the demarcation of the Manipur frontier on the west, but
the actual ground for the outbreak of hostilities arose over a
commercial question. An English trading company found that King
Theebaw had sold over again to the French the rights over some forest
lands for which the company had paid seven years' tolls in advance.
The High Court of Mandalay upheld their sovereign's proceedings, so
that the corporation were driven to appeal to the British Government to
vindicate their claims. King Theebaw, however, flatly refused to
discuss the matter with the Chief Commissioner of Lower Burma. The
British Government welcomed the occasion to {83} send an ultimatum to
King Theebaw "which aimed at a settlement of all the main matters in
dispute between the two Governments,"[1] and simultaneously instructed
Sir Harry Prendergast to prepare a force to march on Mandalay.
[1] _Parliamentary Papers_ (Burma), 1886.
A defiant answer having been returned by the King, orders for the
advance were issued. A fleet of transports was escorted by a few
vessels from the Royal Navy up the Irrawaddy. On November 14, 1885, at
a point about twenty-eight miles beyond our frontier post at Thayetmyo,
the forts at Minhla barred the passage of the river. Our naval guns
then opened fire with good effect, and when the troops landed there was
no resistance.
[Sidenote: Theebaw surrenders]
The advance continued, and ten days later a similar engagement took
place about seven miles from Ava. After the naval guns had silenced
the enemy's artillery, the Hampshire Regiment was landed, and drove the
defenders from their entrenchments. At 4 p.m. on November 24 a royal
state barge appeared bearing a flag of truce, and a message that the
King "was well disposed in mind and heart."[2] To this a reply was
sent that nothing less than the unconditional surrender of the King and
his capital would satisfy the British Government, and that the response
must be received within twelve hours.
[2] Despatch dated January 13, 1886.
The picturesqueness of the scene was so irresistible that even the
official despatch breaks into description of the "far-famed city of
Ava, {84} with its mouldering monasteries and decaying walls. On the
banks are batteries bristling with guns, and parapets alive with
scarlet-clad soldiers," etc., etc.
King Theebaw's reply was received by the time specified, and when
translated was found to express a frame of mind that was acceptable to
the invaders. The subsequent advance from Ava was therefore unopposed,
and on November 28 British troops made their way peacefully through the
streets of Mandalay. In the afternoon of the next day the King and his
Queens and a suitable retinue were conveyed on board a steamer and
transported to Rangoon, _en route_ to India. As a compliment to their
former estate, the escort was detailed from the Royal Navy. It is said
that Supya-lat offered violent resistance to this deportation, saying
that she would prefer death or any fate at the hands of the Englishmen
to life as a state prisoner with her husband. But she had to conform.
By Proclamation on January 1, 1886, Upper Burma was declared a part of
the British Empire, and the Chief Commissioner, Sir Charles Bernard,
transferred his headquarters from Rangoon to Mandalay.
[Sidenote: Dacoity]
Sir Harry Prendergast had completed his task in the occupation of the
capital, but the subjugation of the vast province of Upper Burma,
covering about 100,000 square miles, was a very different matter. The
collapse of the Civil Government and the disbanding of the native army
led to a state of anarchy. Pretenders sprang {85} up who were
exploited by enterprising ex-officers, and became leaders of the
various bands of dacoits that infested the land. These armed bands
were a terror to the people, for they lived on the country and robbed
and looted freely but it was not till we had won the confidence of the
peaceable peasants that they would venture to give us information as to
the whereabouts of their enemies. The fact that there was no cohesion
or community of interest between these marauders made them the more
troublesome to suppress, as each one had to be dealt with separately.
The pacification of the country was entrusted to Sir George White with
a force of three infantry brigades. But as there was no national party
in arms against him, so there was no organised resistance; the enemy
were not soldiers, but a lawless rabble led by brigands.
In his report of this work in a country which he describes as "one vast
military obstacle," he says:
"The actual resistance offered to our troops was not very trying to
disciplined well-armed soldiers, but small bodies of these soldiers
have often had to stand up against bands whose numbers were estimated
in thousands. Between April 1 and July 31 over one hundred affairs
took place, and few days elapsed without the occurrence of fighting in
some part of the newly acquired province."[3]
[3] See _Despatch_, July 17, 1886.
After a time it was found possible partially {86} to replace the
soldiers by specially recruited armed military police, who were thickly
distributed in all the disturbed districts; and gradually the more
peaceable inhabitants realised that every time a military raid was
organised there would be a smaller number of thieves and robbers left
in the land.
When the bulk of Sir George White's expeditionary force was withdrawn,
Brigadier-General George Wolseley, who had been commanding the Mandalay
Brigade, assumed the command of the permanent garrison. It was as his
substitute that Gatacre held the post from October 1889 to October
1890, with a few weeks' interval in the spring. Gatacre had been
nearly four years in the same office on the Headquarter Staff, and his
letters show that after the departure of General Chapman in April 1889
he was anxiously watching for some new opening for himself. The change
to an independent command was very welcome, and not less so was the
change from the social life of Headquarters to the wild simplicity of
Upper Burma. The military direction of such a vast and unsettled
province would provide scope for administration and opportunity for
personal exertion--would, in short, afford all the arduous duties in
which Gatacre found his delight.
[Sidenote: Fort Dufferin]
The ancient citadel of Mandalay is now called Fort Dufferin. It
consists of a vast quadrilateral enclosure, in the centre of which
stands the palace, surrounded by gardens and a high teak-wood stockade.
The walls are 10 ft. thick {87} and 29 ft. high; each side of the
square is a mile and a quarter in length; at regular intervals there
are gates leading to bridges over a moat that is more than 200 ft.
wide. Along the walls are numerous picturesque watch-houses with
little seven-roofed pagodas over each gate. These buildings provided
quarters and offices for both the civil and military departments.
Sir Charles Crosthwaite, who was Chief Commissioner of Burma when
Gatacre took up the command, writes:
"I lived in one of the pagoda erections over a gate in the Mandalay
wall, and there was a long flight of steps leading up to my rooms. I
can see Sir William now flying up the steps and rushing down them,
after he had seen me, and vaulting on to his horse. He was
indefatigable."[4]
[4] August 18, 1909.
The reception rooms in the palace itself were fitted up as a club for
the officers of the garrison. Some men were playing whist there one
evening in November 1889, when Gatacre came in, and going up to one of
the players asked him if he knew anything about transport. The
officer, busy with his cards, replied "Not a damn!" which elicited the
unexpected response:
"Will you be my transport officer?"
When the hand was finished the subaltern turned round, and for the
first time perceived who was speaking to him.
"I am afraid you are chaffing me, sir."
{88}
"Not at all. The last two transport officers I have had knew
everything--one could not teach them anything. Are you willing to
learn?"
That officer did his best to learn, and remained Gatacre's transport
officer till his regiment left the station. He remembers especially
his General's friendly manner, tells us how the dignity and power of
his personality enabled him to dispense with the formalities of his
position, and to do things which in other men might have resulted in
undue familiarity. There was an arrangement by which the other staff
officer carried on the work in the office, while the transport officer
accompanied the General on all his tours. It is to this officer that
we are indebted for the following story.
[Sidenote: Maymyo]
About forty miles from Mandalay there is a little hill-station called
Maymyo, at an elevation of 3,500 ft. It is now full of red-brick
buildings, and is the headquarters of the Lieutenant-General commanding
the Burma Division, and there is a railway up from Mandalay which runs
on to Lashio. But in 1889 Maymyo was but a collection of huts and
tents, and the road that led thither was not only execrable to travel
on, but infested with robbers. However, it served as a sanatorium, and
the sick folk from Mandalay had to brave the dangers of the road. The
transport officer had been spending a month at Maymyo with his wife,
and, having met with exceptional difficulties in making his journey
down, was very much alive to its discomforts. Only two days before
another party had been {89} attacked, their native driver killed, and
their kit dacoited.
When they met next morning the General told the officer to lay a dak to
Maymyo, as he intended going there next day. The thought of doing that
journey again so soon was most distasteful, but the officer only asked:
"What time do we start?"
"There is no 'we' in it. You don't go. I am going alone."
"That's ridiculous!" followed on, with such simplicity and directness
that both broke into laughter.
The idea was ridiculous, but it was carried out. The subaltern's pride
of office was wounded by his being thus set on one side, but when he
realised that it was done out of consideration to himself, and that no
one else was taken, he could not but be satisfied. Risk and exertion
were like magnets to draw Gatacre; he went alone, dispensing even with
an orderly. The fastest and most active ponies were always sent out
for the General's use, and it would have been difficult to find man and
beast to keep up with him when on such an excursion. He must have made
a very early start, for he rode forty miles up into the mountains,
inspected the detachment of the Madras Native Infantry quartered there,
and returned in time to dine with the Chief Commissioner. There he met
Sir Frederick Fryer, to whom he related his day's work. It afterwards
transpired that two of the ponies were broken down by the journey, but
{90} even for such a mishap the General found a cheerful use. When
rallied by one of his commanding officers on this point, he replied:
"Hard on the ponies! Not at all. Why, my dear fellow, it is really a
good thing, for the useless ones get weeded out."
In 1886 Sir George White wrote that it would be a "long time before
dacoity died of inanition."[5] But British methods, worked with
British perseverance, had triumphed over Burmese institutions. In 1889
Sir Charles Crosthwaite could write that "disorder and lawlessness had
been put down, and the power of the Government firmly established and
fully acknowledged."[6] It was, however, reserved for Gatacre to equip
a little expedition which was to penetrate into the Kachin Hills, where
a leader known as Kan Hlaing was harassing the country. The General
sent the following telegram to Calcutta on November 25, 1889:
[5] _Despatch_, August 18, 1886.
[6] _Report of Administration_, August 1887 to August 1889.
"Chief Commissioner has applied for services of troops to operate from
Bhamo against Lwe Saing Tonhon Kachins, in Meteilaing, to effect
capture or surrender of Kan Hlaing and reduction of Tonhon, the chief
town. After effecting this, to march southwards in Binhong and attack
pretender Sairyawuiniz. A column to co-operate from Ruby Mines
district, marching on Momeit. Bhamo Column to consist of 75 rifles
Hants, two guns No. 2 Bombay, 100 rifles 17th Bengal Infantry, and 250
rifles Mogoung Levy. Momeit {91} Column to consist of 50 rifles Hants,
150 Bengal Native Infantry from Mandalay. Have complied with his
wishes, made all necessary arrangements. Column will start from Bhamo
Dec. 1. The Momeit Column will reach Momeit about Dec. 10. Solicits
Army's approval."
[Illustration: Kachin Bridge over which five hundred men crossed in one
day]
The Bhamo Column was under Major Blundell's command, and the Momeit
Column under Major Greenway. Lwe Saing was captured on December 23,
and Tonhon on the 24th, after sharp fighting. Early in January the
force crossed the Shweli River, which was a fierce mountain torrent, so
strong that the rafts were swept away, and a man drowned. The passage
over the various rocky streams was a great difficulty; in one place a
swinging bridge was rigged up with transport ropes and timber; on
another occasion the whole column of five to six hundred men with their
stores were passed over the Kachin Bridge shown in the picture. A
report arrived that the rebel Prince Sawanai and the dacoit leader, Kan
Hlaing, were strongly stockaded at Manton, three marches farther on,
and that he had a following of 2,000 men. The two columns met as
arranged, and captured the village, though it was fiercely defended.
Before the force left Manton, Brigadier-General Gatacre and Colonel
Strover, the Commissioner, joined the column.
The following letters give the General's own impressions of the country.
{92}
[Sidenote: 1890]
IN THE DEFILE JUST BELOW BHAMO,
_February_ 8, 1890.
"We expect a first-class trip, and should be away about six weeks. We
take a month's provisions with us, and a fortnight's follow us. There
is a great charm to me in going into quite an unknown country, full of
wild beasts and savages; there is nearly every animal under the sun
said to be in these jungles, and the place has every appearance of it:
tracks of all sorts along the river-banks. But we shall soon see for
ourselves. I fancy the scenery will be grand, and we shall probably
get many beautiful orchids."
BERNARDMYO, _March_ 20, 1890.
"I have only a moment for a line to say I've 'come out alive' at this
end of the country, which is fortunate. It is one of the roughest
journeys I have ever done, and we have been wet through for days, with
no change possible; great mountains, with only goat tracks to move by,
had to be climbed two or three times in the day, which made going most
tedious. By marching from 5 a.m. to 6 and sometimes 7 p.m. we could
only do thirty miles a day; this was for a ten days' movement, so you
may imagine the country is rough. It's a magnificent land,
however--wild elephants, lots of tigers, and beasts of every
description everywhere, and the inhabitants perfect savages, but clever
beyond measure at agriculture in their valleys, and on the hill-sides
at weaving, knitting, basket-work, etc., of all kinds. I went to find
the column I sent out some three months ago, and found it about 150
miles off; they had had a good deal of fighting, and lost a matter of
thirty men, which was unfortunate, but it might have been {93} more. I
have ordered them all back, except 100 men to hold a post at Mantone,
for if the rains commence I should never get them back at all, owing to
the impossibility of the roads. I never saw such a desperate country
for roads, as they call them; a goat would be puzzled with some of them.
"I hope the Squire and all of you are well. How I should like to see
you all, and have a dinner at Gatacre! I have not had any real good
food for about two months, but, though rough, we enjoy what we do get."
[Sidenote: A rough journey]
Though the leader Kan Hlaing succeeded in effecting his escape, the
expedition had good effect, for his following was dispersed and his
prestige broken. To all those who had taken part in this "rough
journey" it brought another clasp to their medal.
On March 27 Brigadier-General Wolseley reached Mandalay on his return
from leave, and took over the command next day. But before two months
were out, he was wanted to officiate elsewhere, and Gatacre was sent
back to Mandalay. He had been very sorry to "give up charge," and was
proportionately pleased to resume the command. In his letters he
speaks of having initiated many experiments which interested him very
much. Writing to his sister in July 1890, he says:
"I have commenced a Government farm here on a large scale, about eight
hundred acres at present, but will run up to four or five thousand
acres. I have started elephant ploughs, as the ground is so hard owing
to want of rain that the {94} ordinary bullock plough is not strong
enough, and if we do not plough now the season will be too far gone to
enable us to get a crop off the ground this year. The elephant plough
has to be specially made, or the brute will pull it to pieces;
sometimes they get frightened, and then it is best to clear out, for
though the plough weighs half a ton, it is nothing to a frightened
elephant, who goes straight home with it through everything. I hope to
send you a report on the working of the farm just now; the Squire would
like to read it. I wish I had that big plough here that we used to
have at Coton; it would be just the thing for this land. I forget how
many horses it took, but I should put a couple of elephants in."
[Sidenote: Down with fever]
During these summer months he suffered repeatedly from fever.
THE PALACE, MANDALAY,
_July_ 22, 1890.
"I have got influenza, which is a great nuisance, as it keeps me from
my work, and the doctor warns me solemnly not to go in draughts and to
keep out of the sun; but as my present abode is merely a large gilt
shed, about thirty yards square, with looking-glass panels open to the
four winds of heaven, it is rather difficult to follow his advice.
Fortunately the open air always agreed with me, and I feel better
to-day, so I hope I may soon be all right again. The rain keeps off,
and I am afraid we shall have a famine if we do not get heavy rain
soon, for the rice will fail. I wish I could hear somewhat of my
future; it is a nuisance being left in doubt as to what I am going to
do.
{95}
"I wish I had the services of Payne for a bit in the palace gardens; I
would make them so pretty. We have rocks, grass, water, everything
that one could wish to work upon, but have no artistic people who
understand gardening. I am working at it, and getting seeds, and hope
to make it a pretty place by-and-by."
MYINGYAN, IRRAWADDY,
_August_ 30, 1890.
"When I last wrote I was in full steam down the Irrawaddy with the
Chief Commissioner, but I got a bad go of fever, and the doctor put me
ashore, as he thought I would have a better chance. I was rather bad,
but the cool breeze on the bank has made a wonderful change, and has
quite pulled me round. I've had no fever since I came, and am
beginning to feel all right again. Of course, I haven't much walk in
me, but that soon comes back with food--that's of course the difficulty
in a place like this, but I've managed to get hold of a few chickens
and cook them with my servant. Some of them have turned out a success,
others smell of kerosine oil, but they all have to be eaten, so it
doesn't much matter. I mean to go back to Mandalay in three or four
days, and shall be glad to get on my horse again, for it doesn't suit
me to be on my back. I have lots to do, and have a man to write from
dictation, which saves me writing out long official letters, but still
I'm anxious about many things which are being carried out at Mandalay.
This place is just opposite Pakoko, where John commanded for a long
time, and is very pretty, especially now the river is in full flood,
miles across (five or six at least)."
{96}
S.S. "GEORGE," ON THE IRRAWADDY ABOVE MANDALAY,
_September_ 22, 1890.
"I'm off on my travels again, you see. We started this morning on
inspection duty at Bhamo and Shwebo. We should arrive at the former
place on 26th. We stay there two days, and then come down to Shwebo on
right bank of river; the trip will do me good, I think, and will give
me some relaxation while on board. I'm better, but not up to much yet.
"I heard from the C.-in-C. Bombay, Sir George Greaves, to the effect
that he was applying for my services as A.G. of Bombay Army. If I get
this it will be nice, and I should see a good deal of John. It's a
long time since I've seen him now.
"The quail here have been abundant, and the snipe are coming in, but no
bags have been made yet. I only speak from hearsay, as I have been
unable to go out myself, as you will understand.
"I wish you could all run up the river with me on this steamer; you
would enjoy the voyage--such beautiful scenery, and such a river."
[Sidenote: A new post]
In October the "rightful owner" returned to the command at Mandalay,
and Gatacre handed over finally. He brought away many specimens of
Burmese art and handicraft. His own artistic faculties enabled him to
appreciate all that was quaint or interesting in every locality that he
visited. In later life he took great pleasure in showing his friends
the objects of value or beauty that he had collected, and {97}
evidently looked back on these years of strenuous service with real
delight.
From Mandalay he brought away a teak-wood drum that had belonged to
King Theebaw. It is cut out of a solid trunk, and stands about three
feet from the ground, weighs about a ton, and is covered with the most
exquisite carving. He took special pleasure in this piece of
furniture, and in a beautiful silver plate from the Shan States.
In November 1890 Gatacre relinquished his substantive post at
Headquarters, on his appointment as Adjutant-General to the Bombay
Army, with the temporary and local rank of Brigadier-General.
{98}
CHAPTER VII
1890-1894
POONA
Brigadier-General Gatacre took over the duties of Adjutant-General to
the Bombay Army on November 25, 1890, under Sir George Greaves as
Commander-in-Chief.
His deputy in the office was surprised to find that Gatacre was not so
regular in his attendance as might have been expected, and noticed
other signs that suggested that he was unhappy and had something on his
mind. His colleague was quite right. Gatacre was indeed passing
through a severe and prolonged trial, one about which he could take no
one into his confidence. To his highly strung nature, in which the
loftiest integrity was allied to the tenderest human feelings, a blow
such as had fallen upon him must have wrung every fibre, and there is
no doubt that he writhed under it.
[Sidenote: In adversity]
It was about this time that the General was bitten in the hand by a
jackal that was said to be mad. His nerves being already unduly
strained, the poison (or the thought of it) got such a hold on him that
the howling of the {99} jackals kept him awake at night, and a terror
even possessed him of their coming in through the open windows. So
real was this obsession that he ordered iron railings to be fixed
outside, and by thus convincing himself of the impossibility of such a
thing, he gradually conquered the fantasies of his sick brain,
triumphed over his sleeplessness, and reaped the benefit to his general
health.
What was really preying on his mind was not generally known till his
friends read of the dissolution of his marriage. Gatacre was the
petitioner, and there was no defence. This news gave rise to a strong
feeling of sympathy with a man whose probity was unquestioned, and
whose attractive appearance and genial manners had already made him a
favourite in Poona. There was in Gatacre a depth of faithful affection
which nothing could kill; the generosity and kindliness of his judgment
forbad his harbouring any thought of blame, and he clung with unaltered
loyalty to memories of the past.
Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
It is from this time that we find him working with an _acharnement_,
with a restless and passionate self-obliteration that became an
unconquerable habit. Ambition stepped in to revive his interest in his
profession, and the service of his neighbour provided occupation for
his leisure hours.
{100}
[Sidenote: 1890-4]
Poona is not only the Headquarters of the Bombay Army, but for a good
part of the year it is the residence of the Governor of the Bombay
Presidency. In the hot weather both civil and military officials
retire to the country life of Mahabuleshwar, and in the cold weather
spend a few weeks in Bombay City. Thus all the year round there was a
succession of official and social engagements; every one had rather
more to do than there was time for in office hours, and every one
wanted to put in an appearance at such social functions as appealed to
his particular tastes. Gatacre not only took part in all these events,
but was the prime mover and organiser of everything that went on--no
committee of management, no horse-show, gymkhana, or display was
complete without his name. Amongst other details the programmes
engaged his particular attention. He had a special chalk which, when
used on prepared paper, could be reproduced as a lithograph by a very
simple process. He rapidly gained great facility in the use of this
medium, and there is now quite a remarkable series of exquisite
drawings that were thus reproduced. A lively sense of humour animates
some of these efforts, more especially those that did duty as
hunt-cards. The card was the size of foolscap paper; each season had a
new drawing, but all were variations of the study of foxes, while words
were put into their mouths expressing the sentiments of the quarry
towards Doctor Bull's hounds.
[Sidenote: A.G.]
The position of Adjutant-General is one of great {101} influence, and
this influence Gatacre invariably used to promote the cause of
uprightness and true benevolence. There was no red-tape about him; he
was always accessible to all ranks, and instantly ready to deal with
any emergency.
On one occasion the friends of a young officer wanted to get him out of
the way of temptation--the Adjutant-General detailed him to some
outlying station. On the other hand, a young cavalry officer from
Mhow, who was engaged to a lady in Poona, found himself unexpectedly
detained at Headquarters by the A.G. If an officer and his family on
their arrival were unable to find quarters, the A.G. would take the
whole party in, regardless of any previous acquaintance. In the club
one day Gatacre noticed the name of a young officer on the Headquarter
Staff posted up as having failed to pay his club account. He sent for
the officer and paid his bill, choosing to come himself to the rescue
rather than that a young fellow in an honourable post should suffer
disgrace. Thus many an unrecorded kindness, many a deed of silent
sacrifice, showed the natural generosity of his heart, showed his
freedom from any taint of bitterness. Instinctively and deliberately
he endeavoured to obliterate his own sorrow by adding to the happiness
of others, and in this way surrounded himself with an atmosphere of
esteem and gratitude which reacted powerfully for his own benefit. The
officer who succeeded him as Adjutant-General had worked in his office
for some time, and he {102} now writes that the thought of him revives
the "deep impression of what a dear, good fellow he was, and how
hospitable and kind."
[Sidenote: 1891]
Gatacre's efforts at hospitality once gave rise to much amusement on
the one part and dismay on the other. He usually kept but a small
staff of servants, and dined at the club of Western India; but when
there was some special gaiety going on, he would fill his house with
guests from the outlying stations, and instruct his bearer to engage a
good cook and other servants for the necessary period. At the Poona
Race Week one year Gatacre's friends were complimenting him on the
excellence of his arrangements, and stories were related as to the
enormities of which native cooks are sometimes guilty in the
preparation of the Sahib's food, and of their troublesome ways in
general. One lady was particularly eloquent on the annoyance of having
had to part with her khansama only a few days before in order that he
might go and nurse his wife, who was dying. Some one suggested a tour
of inspection round Gatacre's house, which he had held up as a model
establishment. When the party reached the cook-house, I leave you to
imagine the lady's surprise and amusement at finding her own truant
cook installed for the nonce in her host's kitchen!
His easy camaraderie of manner was so remarkable that a friend once
asked Gatacre whether he had ever found that people took advantage of
it, and treated him with undue familiarity, to which he replied that he
had {103} never known them try. He defended himself with a dry and
subtle humour. Assuming an impenetrable blandness of manner, he would
on occasion utter sarcasms so veiled that some men could scarcely tell
whether he was in earnest or not. He was never angry, but he had a
command of quiet language that made his remarks as stinging as they
were humorous. The man on the pillory would feel the sting, and the
onlooker would see the humour.
When another friend asked him why he was taking so much trouble over a
matter that appeared outside the sphere of his interests, and scarcely
worthy of the attention that he was lavishing on it, his reply seemed
weighted with reproof as he said: "I don't think I ever knew what the
meaning of the word trouble was."
[Sidenote: Goes on tour]
In the province of Bombay the inspections take place in the cold
weather between November and March; a spell of hot weather then
precedes the break of the monsoon early in June. The rains last till
September, and are followed by another spell of hot weather, till the
air cools down again to quite a pleasant temperature in November. The
first inspection tour arranged for the end of 1891 included a visit to
the regiments quartered at Kamptee in the Central Provinces. Kamptee
was the Headquarters of the Nagpur District, to the command of which
Brigadier-General John Gatacre, C.B., had been recently gazetted. To
those who have heard of "inspection fever" (and even the best officers
{104} are not always immune), it will be obvious that the station must
have been in rather a commotion at the idea of a visit from the
Commander-in-chief only four days after the arrival of a new General
Officer Commanding. But the new General was well known and trusted in
Kamptee, for he had already been in the station for three years while
in command of his regiment.
[Sidenote: A railway accident]
Between 6 and 7 a.m. on November 5 the General was on the platform of
Nagpur Station awaiting the arrival of the train, when a telegraphic
message came in, saying that there had been a serious railway accident
to the Chief's train about nine miles away. A message was sent back
for medical assistance, and as soon as possible a break-down gang was
got together, but it was nearly 11 o'clock before the relief train
reached the spot. General John tells us that the sight that greeted
him was more shocking than any battlefield. Eight men of the North
Lancashire Regiment were killed outright, twenty-four were severely
injured; a European guard, both drivers and both firemen were killed;
five native passengers were also killed and eight wounded. Beyond this
total of eighteen deaths, four soldiers died within the next few days
in hospital. The framework of the carriages, the iron rails, and the
men's rifles--everything was amazingly crumpled up and distorted.
The permanent way at this spot runs along a thirty-foot embankment.
The whole train was derailed, both engines with their tenders, a
horse-box, and five or six coaches had rolled {105} to the bottom of
the slope; the next carriage, in which Sir George Greaves had been
travelling, was suspended half-way down the bank at an angle of 45°,
the body having been completely wrenched away from the platform; and
the last coach, which had been occupied by the staff officers--Gatacre,
Hogg, and Leach--was hanging in the most precarious position over the
edge.
It turned out that the train was unusually long and heavy that day, as
it was bringing some fifty men of the North Lancashire Regiment back
from Chi-Kulda, a civil hill-station in the Berars, where a few sickly
men had been sent as an experiment. When the railway officials at
Budnari Junction found that the three coaches set aside for the use of
the Headquarter Staff had also to be attached, they feared that the
engine would not be powerful enough to pull the train up a certain
incline, and gave directions that a spare engine (which was meant only
for local shunting work) should be put on in front. This supplementary
engine was the cause of the misfortune, for the tyres of its wheels,
having been mended, gave way under the unusual strain of a long
journey. The front engine left the metals, and, rolling over, pulled
the whole train along with it.
The great majority of the fatal cases were of course in the first two
coaches, in which the soldiers were unfortunately travelling. Some (of
the poor fellows suffered fearfully from scalding, over and above
terrible fractures and injuries; some were so inextricably wedged in
amongst {106} the wreckage that it was not till the relief train came
up with jacks and crowbars that anything could be done to relieve their
excruciating sufferings. None of the staff officers were hurt, but
Colonel Hogg had a narrow escape, for the end compartment, in which he
had been shaving a few minutes earlier, was completely staved in by
impact with the Chief's coach in front.
In the official report forwarded by Sir George Greaves we read:
"I desire to record with pleasure that the officers of the Headquarter
Staff were conspicuous in their efforts to release the injured from the
wreck of the train, especially Brigadier-General Gatacre, A.G.,
Lieutenant-Colonel Leach, Military Secretary, and Captain Peyton,
A.D.C., all of whom, at considerable personal risk, worked in under the
overturned engines and carriages to get at the wounded."
There were also miraculous escapes. A gymnastic sergeant was
travelling in the first coach with two small dogs on his knees. Owing
apparently to his trained activity, he was able to leap through the
window, and thus escaped without injury from a compartment where all
his companions were killed.
As soon as possible the wounded were sent on into Kamptee under the
charge of their companions, and it was three o'clock before the train
got back again to pick up the staff officers.
[Sidenote: "Such good sons"]
On his arrival in Kamptee a telegram was handed to Gatacre, informing
him of his father's {107} death. This was not unexpected, but for both
brothers it must have added a more profound and personal sadness to the
horrors with which the day had begun; and as next day they listened to
the Service read over the poor young fellows who had been so suddenly
struck down, their hearts must have been at Gatacre, where the same
words would soon be read over the old man of eighty-six whom they had
so sincerely loved and reverenced. Only a few days earlier they had
sent a telegram of farewell in their joint names; and in due course had
the satisfaction of hearing that it had arrived just in time to please
the dying man, who murmured in response, "I thank God for such good
sons."
On April 1, 1893, Lieutenant-General Sir John Hudson took over command
of the Bombay Army; only two months later he was killed by a fall from
his horse. The Commander-in-Chief was taking his usual ride with
Colonel Leach, his Military Secretary, before breakfast on the morning
of June 9, when his horse stumbled heavily, throwing Sir John forward
on his head. Six weeks earlier Sir James Dormer, Commander-in-Chief in
Madras, had met with his death while out tiger-shooting, so that this
further catastrophe came with added force to the sister Presidency.
Gatacre had written home a few days before, saying how genial and
kindly he found his new chief, with whom he was already on intimate
terms. It was always a great satisfaction to him to think that the
horse which had made {108} the blunder was not one of his choosing, for
Sir John had already sought his advice in the matter of getting himself
provided with chargers. As chief staff officer it fell to him to make
all the arrangements for the imposing ceremony that took place at 8.30
a.m. on the day following the tragedy. Lord Harris, the Governor, came
down from Panchguni for the occasion. By special instructions he
placed a wreath on the coffin in the name of Her Majesty the Queen, and
numberless similar tributes showed the respectful sympathy of the whole
army. The Guard of Honour was furnished by the 2nd Battalion
Lancashire Fusiliers; all the troops in garrison, both in Poona and
Kirkee, accompanied by massed bands, took part in the solemn
procession. It is said that five thousand men attended the funeral,
and that the whole was so admirably thought out and arranged in the
short space of time that no confusion or difficulty arose at any point.
[Sidenote: Hands over]
In due course Sir Charles Nairne, R.A., became Commander-in-Chief of
the Bombay Army. He was the last of the race, for during his tenure of
the office its name was changed, and he handed over as
Lieutenant-General Commanding the Bombay Army Corps. The office of
Adjutant-General was also renamed, but that was not until after Gatacre
had been succeeded by General Reginald Curteis. Sir Charles was the
third Chief under whom Gatacre had served in this capacity in less than
three years. But as these changes made no difference to Gatacre's
{109} loyal service, so there seems to have been no difference in the
high esteem in which his seniors held him. When he relinquished his
post, some eighteen months later, the same cordial regard had grown up
which he always contrived to win from all those with whom he was
associated either officially or socially. When I came to live in the
command, about two years later, there was no household from whom I
received a more genuine welcome than from Sir Charles and Lady Nairne
and their personal staff.
Early in 1894 the Adjutant-General was appointed to the command of the
military district that had its headquarters at Bombay.
{110}
CHAPTER VIII
1894-1895
BOMBAY
[Sidenote: Colara]
Although the climate of Bombay, which is situated on the nineteenth
parallel, did not offer the attractions of Poona, and although the
appointment brought no promotion in army rank, still Gatacre welcomed
the change of work, and the accession of dignity and opportunity
afforded by an independent command. On January 30, 1894, his selection
for the command of the Bombay District was gazetted, and shortly
afterwards he moved into the bungalow in the Marine Lines, which then
formed the official residence. Of this quaint building he was the last
tenant, for three years later this relic of Old Bombay and its naval
neighbour disappeared under the consuming flame of the Plague
Commission.
This house and the adjacent one which sheltered the Admiral were
historic erections, being survivals of the days when the Englishman
first pitched his moving tent in these regions. For the original
canvas covering of the tent, "jaffray-work," or plaited palm-leaves,
had {111} been substituted, which had to be renewed each year just
before the monsoon broke; this roof was supported on wooden columns
that were the successors of the original tent-poles, and made a quaint
feature in all the rooms. The canvas walls of the tent had been
replaced by Venetian shutters; the doors were made of cotton stuff
stretched on a frame, which left a large space above and below the
eye-line. The deep verandah, on which greenhouse creepers sprawled
luxuriantly, covered a space wide enough to allow of dining and
sleeping out-of-doors.
The weather is warm all the year round, and becomes exceedingly damp
and oppressive in the spring and autumn, while in the summer the
monsoon winds bring a rainfall of nearly 300 inches in three months.
White uniform is worn throughout the year, even on full-dress
occasions. At the extreme point of the island, in the breeziest and
healthiest situation, there are barracks for one British regiment, and
hard by is the beautiful chapel raised as a memorial to those who fell
in the Afghan Campaign of 1849. It was an exceedingly pretty sight to
see a regiment of men all clad in spotless white file into their places
on a Sunday morning. The rifle regiments wear their black buttons and
ornaments, and one would say that nothing could be smarter, until the
reliefs bring another corps, who with their gold buttons and belts
produce a more brilliant effect.
According to the military classification, {112} Bombay is a
Second-class District, held by a Brigadier-General, who is not really a
General Officer, but a full colonel with temporary rank. A First-class
District is held by a Major-General, whose importance is further marked
by the presence of an A.D.C. There is, however, so much ceremonial
work peculiar to Bombay that the General often wished that he had been
granted the services of such a young officer, as a way of saving his
regular staff.
[Sidenote: Transports]
Gatacre held this command for more than three years--from January 1894
to July 1897--but for eight months in the summer of the second year,
1895, he was on active service in Chitral, and for the same period in
1896 he was officiating at Quetta. Owing to the difference in climate
he thus served for five drill seasons in succession. Although these
two short episodes will be dealt with separately, the fact that he did
duty through the cold weather for three seasons in Bombay seems to
justify also a study of the conditions peculiar to that command.
So far as the passenger traffic is concerned, Bombay is the port of
India. It is the quickest route to all the provinces, even as far east
as Calcutta. All the transports between England and India call at
Bombay, and the vast majority of troops are there embarked and
disembarked. In consideration of the work entailed in arranging the
transport service, an extra Deputy Assistant Adjutant-General was
allowed on the staff; practically this department of the staff office
was the shipping agency for all the reliefs {113} throughout India.
Not only had the transhipping and railway arrangements to be made for
every regiment on its arrival and departure, and for drafts of men from
every branch of the service, but privilege passages had to be allotted
to the innumerable officers and their families who, when going home on
leave, hoped to avail themselves of the chance of a vacancy on a
transport. The rule in allotting these passages was that the junior
officer should take precedence, Government having apparently in mind
that their scale of pay gave them the first title to consideration. At
the same time, senior officers were often needed to take command of a
ship full of details, and sometimes had to be searched for, Army
nursing sisters, too, had special claims.
All these conflicting interests gave rise to almost as many private
letters as there were official applications. Ladies and children would
come and live in Bombay in the hope of securing a vacancy at the
eleventh hour--a device which was often successful. There were
numberless hard cases and jealousies over these passages, and many
funny stories were told. It was whispered that if an applicant called
in person on the General, her chances would be in direct proportion to
her personal attractions. The amount of baggage allowed was also a
source of infinite vexation. Once a nursing sister, who had recently
married an army surgeon, asked to be allowed to send her effects under
her maiden name, as the scale of baggage allowed in her professional
capacity {114} was slightly higher than that considered sufficient for
a captain's wife.
During the loading and unloading of these transports an officer of the
General's staff had to be continuously on duty to attend to any matter
that might arise, and to check the freight, live and dead. This was a
tedious and very irksome duty, and, considering the amount of work
going on in the office during the winter months, the time thus spent
could be ill spared. The General made a practice of calling in person
on all transports immediately before their departure, at whatever hour
it might be, and soon after their arrival. If a homeward-bound vessel
was starting on a midnight tide, he would dine in his picturesque white
mess-dress, and thus be ready to go and pay his official visit of
farewell. The house was a long way from the Bunder, so that this duty
involved a drive of more than a mile, and a run across the harbour in
the Government launch, which was always at his disposal. In that
intensely Oriental setting the thrill of living (as it were) in the
exchange, and seeing the great ships that go down to the sea carrying
their load of joyful anticipations, was irresistibly moving. Gatacre
was thus on terms of personal friendship with all the captains, and
used to ask them to his own house. As a Christmas recognition of such
attentions, the captain of the _Victoria_ sent up a specially selected
sirloin of English beef one year on the morning of December 25. All
who have tasted Indian beef will know that this was a rare delicacy.
{115}
[Sidenote: The Navy]
But transports were not the only vessels in Bombay Harbour. There were
ships from the Royal Navy, ships from the foreign navies, and
Peninsular and Oriental weekly mails, outward and homeward bound.
Between the navy and the army there was a strict etiquette regarding
the exchange of visits. Writing from Bombay on November 3, 1909,
General Swann tells us that--
"The procedure in the matter of ceremonial calling was for a staff
officer to go on board within twenty-four hours of a ship's arrival and
arrange for the exchange of visits between the captain and the general;
the first visit was made by whichever was the junior of the two, and
both visits were supposed to be over within the twenty-four hours."
Such official visiting had also to be attended to with great
punctuality in the case of foreign warships, and on these occasions a
bottle of champagne would be produced at any hour, and the health of
the respective sovereigns ceremoniously toasted. The General
particularly exerted himself to entertain these foreign guests. When a
Russian vessel was in the harbour he asked the captain and three or
four officers to breakfast at his house, inviting some ladies who could
talk French to come and entertain them. On another occasion, when an
Italian vessel lay at anchor, the General writes:
"I got up in the middle of the night last night to take the Duke of
Savoy and his staff out {116} hunting to-day. He thoroughly enjoyed
himself, galloped to his heart's content, made himself very sore at the
knees, and came home perfectly happy. I got back just in time to dress
for parade service, but could not get time for breakfast. Went to
church, and got back to luncheon at 2.30."
[Sidenote: 1894-7]
The hunting days in Bombay were Thursday and Sunday mornings; horses
were sent on overnight. The meet was at daybreak at a place reached
after about forty minutes in a train that left the station at 4.30 a.m.
Hounds moved off as soon as the light allowed. It was a sporting
country, for there were plenty of jackals, and the ground varied from
soft ricefields, enclosed by Irish banks, to hard rock and heavy sand
in which prickly-pear hedges were disagreeably abundant. The hunt
usually returned to the Jackal Club Camp in time for the 8.30 train,
and all the men got back in time to be at their offices by 10 o'clock.
Every one in Bombay has an office of some sort, for no one would live
there unless forced thereto by the necessity of fulfilling their
vocation.
Another feature of the Bombay command was the constant semi-official
attendances at the railway station and elsewhere. Whenever His
Excellency the Governor, or His Excellency the Commander-in-Chief, or
His Excellency the Admiral Commanding the East Indian Squadron passed
through the station, the General Officer Commanding was there to
receive him, or to see him off as the occasion demanded.
{117}
[Sidenote: Guests]
It was also his pleasure to meet any friends, official or private, who
might be arriving or departing by the mail. There was hardly a week
when his launch was not in attendance on the mail-boats. These usually
arrived at daybreak, but for Gatacre no hour was too early. One
morning the mail was to bring a general officer who was on his way to
take over a command up-country. His son, already appointed as A.D.C.,
had come down to Bombay to meet his father, and had called at the Staff
Office on the previous day. The General offered to take him on board
in his launch, as he was himself going to fetch his guest home to
breakfast, and named the hour. But when the General stepped into the
launch next morning the A.D.C. was nowhere visible on the Bunder.
Afterwards the young man turned up, and his father said with a
carelessnesss of speech which Gatacre was quick to detect: "May I
introduce you to my son?" To which Gatacre replied: "You may bring him
up to me if you like."
It was one of the paradoxes of Gatacre's character that he was
sometimes as punctilious about fine shades of etiquette as he was on
other occasions kindly when such subtleties interfered with his mood or
his purpose.
All through the cold weather the General's house was full. There were
the friends going by the mail to whom an invitation would be of the
greatest convenience; there were the friends arriving by the mail who
must stay one night to clear their baggage before starting up-country;
{118} there were the friends who had entertained him when inspecting at
their station, and whose daughters would enjoy the gaiety of the city.
He was very fond of ladies, and minutely thoughtful for every detail
which might contribute to their comfort or pleasure while in his house.
Over and above all these calls on his time there was still the
soldiering. The district covered a considerable area, extending
northward as far as Cutch-Bhuj in Kathywarj and including many inland
stations such as Ahmedabad, Baroda, Surat, and Khandalla. There was
also a detachment of the Marine Battalion in the Persian Gulf. All the
arrangements had been made for an official visit to Bushire in the
spring of 1896, and it was with great reluctance that the General gave
up this trip when he found himself under orders for Quetta.
It was the soldiering that he loved, and it was for this love of the
soldiering that he deliberately overworked himself. No personal
considerations had any weight. Having no one at home to watch over
him, he became recklessly irregular at his meals, and would sit up to
all hours of the night writing--endlessly writing. What kept him going
were the trips up-country to inspect the outlying regiments and
detachments; for in the train he would make up his arrears of sleep,
and the rules of politeness secured his punctual attendance at
meal-time. The uncertainty of his hours was a matter of some comment
at the office, where no doubt it {119} gave rise to considerable
inconvenience, and probably not less troublesome was his habit of
utterly disregarding the usual luncheon interval. The General was
playfully conscious of all these misdemeanours, for on bidding good-bye
to his chief staff officer on his departure for Quetta, he said:
[Sidenote: Office hours]
"Now you will be all right--with a brand-new General whom you can
educate to attend the office regularly at eleven, and go home to tiffin
at two."
This officer, however, bore him no grudge for his vagaries, and now
writes with great affection of his old Chief.
POONA, _September_ 17, 1909.
"As his staff officer there were two points he used to impress on
me--'No difficulty' and 'No finality.' Difficulties, like hills, were
useful for the exercise they give in surmounting them. There is no
difficulty that cannot be overcome somehow. No finality is the
watch-word of progress. What may seem best to-day can be improved upon
to-morrow, but that is no reason for deferring action indefinitely:
'The best is the enemy of the good.' Act on what seems good at the
moment, and trust to time and opportunity to find something better to
act on later. But act, and act promptly. This, I think, sums up the
principles he tried to instil into me, and his example illustrates his
teaching.
"I never served under a chief who thought more quickly, decided more
readily, or acted more promptly."
During the last week of November 1894 the {120} Viceroy, Lord Elgin,
arranged to hold a Durbar at Lahore. There was to be a great gathering
of the native princes of the Punjab, and a concentration of British,
Native, and Imperial Service troops. The Viceroy and the
Commander-in-Chief both had large camps, to which they invited guests
from all parts of India. Having received the offer of a tent and the
hospitality of his camp from Sir George White, Gatacre selected the two
best-looking chargers in his stable and repaired to Lahore in the
highest spirits.
[Sidenote: 1894]
In a letter written a little later, however, he confesses that it was
not the attractions of the Durbar that took him so far out of his
command at such a busy time of the year, but the expectation of seeing
some one again whom he had recently met as she passed through Bombay.
For the guests a Durbar week is a holiday; the General was a free
man--he had only to look on and enjoy himself. There were many
official functions where every one was gloriously apparelled, but he
looked as splendid as any in that brilliant company; and there were
many social festivities which afforded opportunity for daily
intercourse. It was during the picturesque pageants of the Lahore Week
that I came under the spell of the General's charm. To know him was to
love him, as many another has since said to me. During that week we
learnt to know one another, and at the end of it he wrote a frank manly
letter to my father, Lord Davey, begging him to sanction the idea of
our marriage. {121} I regret that the kindly reply to his honest
exposition of the whole matter has not been preserved; its purport
being in accordance with our hopes, the engagement was made known, and
I had the gratification of hearing my General's praises on all sides.
In some letters of December 1894 he intentionally writes about himself,
and supplies us with the incentives which inspired him.
"I am always thinking of how I can get on, not for the sake of the
money it brings, but for soldiering itself."
And again:
[Sidenote: Soldiering first]
"I hope you will not mind my love of soldiering and work; it has such a
fascination for me, I am inclined to put it first always. But my love
for you will stand out first, and your love for me will enable me to
carry out my work at personal inconvenience to ourselves, won't it?
You see I am cunningly trying to get you to overlook my endeavours to
think of soldiering as the first thing, but, dear, you will always be
in my heart all the time."
Perhaps it was by contrast with the slackness natural to the soft
climate of Bombay that Gatacre's indomitable spirit attracted so much
attention. Colonel James Arnott writes:
"Working, as I did, in the Civil Department, I had no official
association with your husband, and it was only when he commanded the
Bombay District that I got to know him at all well. I was much
impressed by his keen interest in his {122} profession, his strong
_esprit de corps_, his enthusiasm for work, and the activity and
strength which enabled him to carry it on in a way to stimulate others.
I have a clear recollection of his active figure and his first-rate
horsemanship, riding, as he often used to do, bare-backed, an
indication of character and of those qualities so necessary in a
soldier.
"General Gatacre took his share in everything of public interest in
Bombay, but I shall only refer to the very successful Assault-at-Arms
which he organised--the first and best thing of the kind that I saw in
my long residence in Bombay."[1]
[1] September 13, 1909.
[Sidenote: The first tournament]
This tournament was a great event. The large grass-covered enclosure
known as the Oval was borrowed from the Municipality for the purpose of
a Grand Naval and Military Display and Assault-at-Arms. This space,
flanked on one side by the Town Hall, and on the other open to the sea,
offered every facility for such an undertaking. Admiral Kennedy, who
was in residence for Christmas, willingly co-operated; his handy men
rendered most valuable assistance, the naval element lending a
distinction of which only a Bombay Assault-at-Arms could boast. An
attractive programme was made out and entries were invited from all the
stations in India.
It was of course necessary to get subscriptions and guarantees; but the
General was already personally acquainted with all the leading men in
Bombay, and had no difficulty in {123} getting what he wanted. The
Governor and the resident native princes gave their support and
patronage, and many wealthy merchants, realising the great local
expenditure that such a tamasha must involve, contributed generously.
In the friendly relations established with the citizens of Bombay over
the multifarious business of this tournament lay the secret of the
facility with which Gatacre two years later won them to accept his
views about segregation.
Every detail of the entertainment had the General's personal attention;
his fertile brain organised and perfected the whole and every part, his
hands painted the scenery of the Soudan Village, his horse carried the
officer's daughter who, in the gay uniform of the Royal Horse
Artillery, opened the proceedings by presenting His Excellency the
Governor with a programme in a silver case. The incessant labour
entailed by this vast undertaking, and the strain necessary to honour
all its calls upon him while carrying on simultaneously the routine of
his official life, can be best expressed in his own words.
Writing on the Thursday before the tournament, which was to open on
Monday, December 17, he says:
"Before I met you I thought there was only one thing in the world, and
that was soldiering; now I think there are two, but the soldiering is
at present the only one I have got. I have been busy to-day, and in a
fever about the whole thing. I have been calling on the Italian ship,
drinking 'The King and Italy,' again very bad {124} when one has fever,
I should say; but no matter, the champagne was very good. The levee is
just over, the whole world pouring before Lord Harris, and now I am
going to paint till about 3 a.m. to-morrow. I have half a town to do,
and no one seems able to originate anything."
On the 18th, after the first day's performance, he writes:
"What will you say to me, not writing to you yesterday? But if you
only knew the sort of day I have had! First I was busy in the office,
could not move from my chair till 4 o'clock p.m.; then I had to dress
and meet H.E. the C.-in-C. at the station at 4.45, then to meet the
Admiral at the Apollo Bunder a mile away at 5 o'clock--all official
receptions; then to go to the Tournament to see all was right, finish
painting scenery, entertain the Governor's party at dinner, go to the
Tournament, watch it till 1 a.m., then drink 'the King and Italy' with
the Italian officers, who remained till the last. Finally, at 2 a.m.,
commence to count with an enormous staff of clerks 10,000 tickets, to
see if the money was right. You see, I am responsible, and I like to
be sure what we are doing. Well, dearest, the thing was a tremendous
success. We sold 10,000 Rs. worth of tickets last night, shall sell
probably 11,000 Rs. to-night, and so on.
[Sidenote: Tent-pegging]
"Everything went well. The light was not as good as I should wish, but
it was fair. We had no accident in the ring, but got a horse killed
afterwards, his leg being broken by a kick.... Well, I finished these
beastly tickets at 4 a.m., and at 7 had to go tent-pegging for an hour,
and since then have never sat down, so you see why I did not write.
Now it is 5.30 {125} p.m., and I am so tired--or at least my eyes are;
and I shall not have a chance to rest till 5 a.m. to-morrow; it will
take us all that time to check the takings."
On the 21st, when it was all over except for the prize-giving and the
congratulations, he writes:
"I have fever this morning; have not had any sleep for days, and had to
run in the Open Competition for Officers' Tent-pegging, which I won
easily, taking both pegs and then touching two more turned on edge. I
was rather pleased, as no one else touched one sideways at all, and all
were about twenty years younger than I! My team ran fourth for the
Duke of Savoy's Cup; my men could not ride well enough; I got both mine.
"To-day is the final ceremony. You have never seen such an
extraordinary multitude; tens of thousands of children, who pay one
anna each, crowding round the place endeavouring to get an entrance. I
do wish you were here to see the unusual activity reigning in the town
and the excitement we have caused."
It was the novelty of the thing that gave importance to this
tournament; the idea has since been carried out in many stations with
marked success. It is interesting to note that such a gathering has
also an indirect value; it promotes camaraderie between different
branches of the service, and shows how much pleasure may be provided to
both competitors and on-lookers by what was essentially "soldiering" in
its inception.
{126}
In _The Times of India_ we read:
"At the close of the Commander-in-Chief's speech three ringing cheers
were given for His Excellency and a similar number for
Brigadier-General Gatacre. The Commander-in-Chief having then left the
arena, the troops left the ground with bands playing, the men-of-war's
men as a special and well-deserved honour being escorted to the Apollo
Bunder by a regimental band, and followed by a large crowd of
civilians. Several of the troops in camp on the Oval visited the
flagship H.M.S. _Bonaventure_, and the turret-ship _Magdala_ yesterday
morning, while others were taken for a cruise in the harbour, a number
of the up-country native troops being taken on a visit to inspect the
local cotton mills.
"The work of demolishing the enclosure and removing the plant has
already begun, and to-day the majority of the troops will be _en route_
for their up-country stations, many of them taking back prizes and
other mementoes of the well-organised, well-managed, and finest
military display and gathering of its kind ever held in the East."
As soon as it was all over Gatacre took ten days' leave to Calcutta,
where he was welcomed with surprise and pleasure by his friends of the
other side.
{127}
CHAPTER IX
1895
CHITRAL
The annual inspections in the Bombay District for the season 1894-5 had
all been carried out, confidential reports were rapidly being filled
in, and got ready to forward to Headquarters, the arrangements for the
sailing of the last transport were all settled, and all work was
beginning to slacken in Bombay with the approach of the hot weather.
Gatacre was making a push to conclude the season's work with a view to
taking eight months' leave to England. In theory this long leave can
be secured once in every five-year command; but Gatacre had now
completed two such appointments without availing himself of this
privilege, having been content with the sixty days' leave allowed each
year.
But whatever might be the special reasons which drew him homewards in
1895, a better thing still was in prospect for him: in whole-hearted
joy he writes on March 15:
"I am so pleased: have got a telegram from {128} Sir George White
saying, 'Have nominated you to command Third Brigade in Division to be
mobilised for possible service Chitral.' This is a first-class
business, for though it will prevent my coming home so soon, still it
is a step onwards, and that is what we want, isn't it, dear? I am so
pleased at getting this chance, and will do my best for your sake and
my own."
[Sidenote: The Third Brigade]
The Chitral Relief Force was under the command of Sir Robert Low; the
expedition was organised to effect the relief of Surgeon-Major
Robertson, I.C.S., and some half-dozen officers who were shut up with a
small garrison in the fort at Chitral. We are not concerned here with
the internal events which had culminated in the siege of the fort by a
hostile faction; suffice it to say that the Government of India
regarded the matter as very urgent, and were sending a strong division
of both British and Native troops to their assistance.
Sir Robert Low's force was to approach from the south over the Malakand
Pass, and to make its way up the valley of the Chitral River. This was
a route which had not hitherto been used by the Indian Government, and
covered about 185 miles. Communications with Chitral had previously
been maintained from the north-east, via Gilgit. During the winter
months this latter route was closed, as the road lay over snow-covered
passes; the distance was about 160 miles from Gilgit, and this was the
recognised access and the base of supplies for the little garrison.
And so it came about that, {129} in response to messages from Major
Robertson, Colonel Kelly was endeavouring to reach him from Gilgit,
undismayed by almost impassable winter snows, at the same time that the
Indian Relief Force was advancing with similar intention from Peshawur.
In a letter from Mian Mir, March 24, 1895, Gatacre writes:
"I leave to-morrow to take command of my Brigade at Hoti Mardan, about
twenty-five miles north-east of Peshawur, and we shall march from there
on April 1, right away for Chitral; but without doubt we shall have
some rough work and some fighting. Umra Khan knows he will have no
mercy after destroying Captain Ross's detachment, and will do his best
to raise the whole border against us.
"I have four first-class regiments--the Seaforth Highlanders, the
Buffs, the 25th Punjab Infantry, the Second 4th Ghoorkas, and we are
all sound and prepared to go anywhere, so I hope we shall all come well
out of it.
* * * * *
"I think myself we shall have to drop our tents, small as they are, and
march without them. Our difficulty will be crossing deep rivers; we
shall have no boats, and must trust to making rafts of skins and
floating the men across; but it is always a shaky business when there
are bullets flying about."
On March 30, in drenching rain, the first troops marched out of Hoti
Mardan; on April 2 they met the enemy, who were lying in wait for them
on the slopes of the Malakand Pass. But {130} in this and the
subsequent engagements on the banks of the Swat and the Panjkora
Rivers, the Third Brigade took no part, being held in reserve. A
stirring account of the fighting is given by Colonel Younghusband in
his _Story of the Guides_.
A bridge of rafts was thrown across the Panjkora River; the Guides
Cavalry and Infantry were passed over on the afternoon of April 15,
with orders to reconnoitre certain villages early the next morning.
But in the night a flood arose, huge trees crashed down on the swollen
stream, completely wrecking the bridge. Two miles below this point,
the Sappers were rigging up a suspension bridge; and in the meantime an
attempt was made to float the men across on rafts supported by
mussocks, or inflated goat-skins, and navigated by native boatmen.
[Sidenote: A rescue]
Gatacre, whose brigade was still in the rear, had pushed forward to see
what was going on, and stood by the river's edge watching this "shaky
business." Suddenly a raft on which four men were seated got out of
control, broke away from the guiding rope, and was immediately caught
by the current, and swirled down the turbulent stream. In an instant
Gatacre jumped on his pony, and dashed at full gallop over the rocky
ground in the wild hope of reaching the spot where the bridge was being
made in time to warn the Sappers, and attempt a rescue. The bend of
the river gave him time; with equal promptitude Major Aylmer got into a
sling-cradle, and was lowered in mid-stream {131} just as the raft came
in sight. Two men only were still on it, one of whom saw his chance
and grasped the extended hand. As the river had narrowed from 200
yards to ninety feet, the raft was travelling at a tremendous pace.
There was a moment of thrilling strain on the ropes; the cradle was
submerged by the sudden pull; but all held on heroically, and Aylmer
had the satisfaction of bringing Private Hall safely to land. The
other man, together with the two comrades who had been thrown off in
the wild descent, were hopelessly lost.[1]
[1] See Sir Robert Low's _Despatch_, April 18, 1895, par. 18.
Early on April 17, the bridge being completed, the advance was resumed.
It was here that the Third Brigade got its chance. An officer writes:
"I can well recall our intense joy when we found ourselves going over
the Panjkora Bridge in front of the Second Brigade, which had been
leading since we left the Malakand. With feverish haste we packed our
mules, having moved our camp the night before, so as to be as close as
possible to the bridge."
By 10.45 the Third Brigade, accompanied by the Guides Cavalry and the
11th Bengal Lancers, were all across, and orders were received for a
general advance on Miankalai, which was being held against us. Sir
Robert Low's despatch runs:
"I pushed on to Ghobani with the Third Brigade, arriving there soon
after noon. The enemy had then collected on a bluff in two villages
west of Mamugai. The battery came into action {132} about 12.30 p.m.,
and the enemy soon fell back under cover. The Seaforth Highlanders and
4th Goorkhas moved up to the south side of the valley, and then
advanced against the enemy in a westerly direction, driving them back
from spur to spur, and eventually arrived at the bluff mentioned about
4 p.m., which they occupied for the night.
"The enemy on this occasion did not show the bold front of previous
days, but retired as the infantry advanced; and though the guns were
sent forward about 1,000 yards to hasten their retreat, the loss of the
enemy was not great. Throughout the action the troops were well
handled by Brigadier-General Gatacre, D.S.O.
* * * * *
"The same afternoon Brigadier-General Gatacre with the Buffs, the 4th
Goorkhas, half of No. 4 Company Bengal Sappers and Miners, No. 2
Derajat Mountain Battery, and the Maxim guns of the Devonshire Regiment
pushed on to Barwa, _en route_ for Dir and Chitral, with twenty days'
supplies.
* * * * *
"On the afternoon of April 20 Brigadier-General Gatacre sent a message
back to me that Major Deane, chief political officer, had received news
that the garrison of Chitral was reduced to great straits, and that the
mines of the enemy had reached to within ten yards of the fort, and he
suggested that he should advance rapidly with a small body of five
hundred men.
"To this I consented, as being the only way of passing quickly through
the intricate country we were now traversing, and the only chance of
rescuing the garrison."[2]
[2] See Sir Robert Low's _Despatch_, April 19, 1895.
{133}
[Sidenote: The Flying Column]
The excitement and joyful anticipation amongst those who were to
compose the Flying Column were intense. One of them writes:
"We had intended pushing on over the Lowari Pass without baggage
animals, the paths being unfit for even mules without much tedious and
lengthy preparation. Every officer and man was to have carried ten
days' supplies on his back, and I had already broken up the General's
mess stores into suitable 40-lb. loads for hillmen to carry for us. In
order to do this I only got to bed at our Janbatai camp at 1 a.m. and
had to be up at 3 a.m.; so you can imagine it was impressed on my mind.
"The dear General was, I fancy, awake all night, partly on account of
the painful abscess that had been lanced that evening; but in spite of
this he marched with us all next day, standing in his stirrups, because
of the pain of sitting; and indefatigably urged on our bridging and
road-making parties. After our arrival at Dir, having marched twenty
miles and made the road and bridged the streams _en route_, the General
would not rest or dine till the last of the transport mules had been
piloted with lamps over a very difficult and rocky part of the path,
just outside Dir. I fancy we dined at about 9.30 p.m.; but this was no
unusual thing, for the General always insisted on seeing to the comfort
of his brigade before his own, and I hardly ever managed to induce him
to sit down to dinner till some time between 9 and 10 p.m."
But much to the chagrin of the five hundred they were a flying column
for twenty-four hours only, for on the 22nd news was received that the
siege, which had lasted forty-six days, had {134} been raised. It was
afterwards ascertained that Colonel Kelly had reached the fort at 2
p.m. on the 20th, and that Sher Afzul and his supporters had fled the
previous day. The General says nothing of his personal disappointment
in the letters of this date, but when he was in the fort a month later,
he writes:
"I wish they had let me loose as I wished, when we reached the Swat
River. I should have been in Chitral before Kelly, though he had only
half the distance to go that I had. But G.O.C. wanted to move with a
united force. Of course we all hold different views regarding the best
way of doing these things, but had I had the doing of it, I would have
moved by separate lines, one brigade in advance; one would have got on
quicker, and more effectively. But this is only between you and me."
[Illustration: Goorkhas crossing the Lowari Pass]
The campaign now entered into the second phase; the fighting was over,
but not so the work. The Government decided that the Third Brigade
should proceed to Chitral. Having already reached Dir, they had
covered nearly two-thirds of the distance according to the map, but the
most difficult part of the journey was ahead of them. The Lowari Pass,
10,450 ft. high, was covered with deep snow, and the valleys leading up
to it on both sides were known to present almost insurmountable
obstacles to the passage of a large body of men and animals.
The following extract from _Trans-frontier Wars_ (vol. i. p. 544) gives
a good idea of the physical features of the country to be traversed.
{135}
"Throughout its entire length from Dir to Ashreth, the road was a mere
goat-track, offering extraordinary difficulties to the passage of
troops, and requiring extensive improvements before laden animals could
follow it.
"The route to Gujar, at the foot of the pass, lay for eleven miles up
the Dir Valley beside the tumbling snow-fed torrent that streams from
the south side of the pass. The track was in general extremely
difficult, frequently losing itself among the boulders that choked the
bed of the stream, and rising steeply to traverse the face of a rocky
bluff, only to fall again with equal abruptness on the other side.
This portion of the road had to be realigned and reconstructed
throughout, the river had to be bridged in three or four places, and
stone staircase ramps had to be built in the water at more than one
point, to enable laden animals to pass where the stream washed the foot
of a precipitous cliff. From Gujar, 8,450 ft., to the summit of the
pass, a distance of three miles, the track lay over frozen and often
treacherous snow, at first at a fairly easy gradient, but growing
steeper and more slippery as the pass was approached. Beyond the crest
a great snow cornice, 15 ft. in height, overhung the head of the glen,
down which the track descended for about 1,000 yards at a gradient of
one in three or four, over vast drifts of avalanche snow, in which
great rocks and the uprooted trunks of gigantic trees lay deeply
embedded. From the foot of this descent the route lay down a steep and
rocky gorge, now following the tangled bed of the torrent, now winding
through fine forests of pine and cedar, or traversing open grassy
glades clogged with the drainage of melting snows."
{136}
[Sidenote: The advance]
In such a struggle with the forces of nature Gatacre was at his best.
No difficulty dismayed him; his own passionate belief in the power of
goodwill and hard work to overcome every obstacle inspired the whole
force. The men learnt to work hard because he expected it of them and
seemed always present to appreciate their efforts. They learnt to
endure every hardship because he endured physical discomforts as great
as theirs. Some few men were attacked with frost-bite, and the General
was amongst the number; it caught him across the knuckles, and put him
to great inconvenience. They saw him daily riding up and down the
road, ministering to their comfort and their safety; and they realised
that as a master he was one whom all good workmen delight to serve,
because he made himself their servant.
An officer who is now a Brevet-Colonel and has since served in Egypt,
in East Africa, and in Natal, writes thus
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