CHAPTER XII.

THE FIRST BATTALION.

1884-1885.

THE NILE EXPEDITION.

At the time of England’s armed intervention in Egypt in 1882, the Khedive’s authority extended nominally far beyond the limits of the province which Mahomet Ali had wrested from the Sublime Porte. The founder of the Egyptian dynasty, not satisfied with fighting his Suzerain the Sultan in Syria, had pushed armies up the Nile into the heart of the Soudan, or country of the Blacks, a no-man’s land which stretched from Wadi Halfa, the southern boundary of Egypt, to the Great Lakes far beyond the equator. This region had no form of government; its inhabitants were oppressed by Arab slave-hunters; its condition was pitiable in the extreme. Mahomet Ali gradually conquered every tribe in the Nile valley up to the junction of the White and Blue Niles, where he built Khartoum, and thrust forward outposts in every direction from the capital of his new dominions, which was about a thousand miles south of Cairo. The country thus annexed became known as the Egyptian Soudan, and extended from the shore of the Red Sea to the western frontier of Kordofan; it was about the size of France and Germany put together, and its population in 1883 was estimated at fourteen millions of mixed breed, the descendants of the aboriginal negroes and the Arabs who overran the country early in the Mohammedan era. This blend had produced a race possessing the outward characteristics and mental attributes of the Arab, combined with the endurance and brute courage of the Negro.[252] After anarchy such as had prevailed in the Soudan, almost any form of government might have been expected to improve the condition of the country; but in this respect Egyptian rule completely failed. Taxation was heavy; extortion was the rule, rather than the exception, and slave-hunting, with all its attendant horrors, was not suppressed; indeed, thanks to the connivance of the officials, who were virtually in partnership with the slave-dealers, it so greatly increased that the country was rapidly becoming depopulated, when in 1869, the pressure of British public opinion compelled the Khedive to institute reforms in the administration, and to appoint an Englishman, Sir Samuel Baker, as Governor-General of the Equatorial provinces, which stretched from Khartoum to the Great Lakes. Five years later Baker was succeeded by General (then Colonel) Charles George Gordon, who held the post till 1879. Though both accomplished much towards the establishment of better government and the suppression of slave-hunting, their efforts were cramped and thwarted by the officials at Cairo and at Khartoum, who were naturally disinclined to lose the enormous profits they derived from the trade in slaves. A country so mercilessly treated only needed a leader to turn upon its oppressors, and in 1881, such a leader arose in the Soudan. A prophecy had long been current among Mohammedans that about this time a “Mahdi” would appear and convert the whole world to the true faith, and of this prophecy a religious adventurer, named Mohammed Ahmed, availed himself to the uttermost. He proclaimed himself the Mahdi whose advent had been predicted, and announced that as soon as the Soudan had joined his cause he would march on Egypt, destroying all who opposed him, and convert the whole world to Islam. Such was the spiritual part of his programme, carefully prepared to rouse the fanaticism latent in every Mohammedan; the temporal advantages he offered to his followers were universal equality and community of goods. Although denounced as an impostor by the educated Mussulmans, who probably regarded his socialistic propaganda with misgivings, he rapidly gained a great following, and obtained several successes over the Egyptian garrisons, which were at this time in a wretched condition. The troops had not been paid for many months, in some cases even for years: the soldiers were undrilled, their officers incompetent to drill them: the loyalty of all ranks was as doubtful as their courage. To stiffen this unpromising material, several Englishmen in the service of Egypt were sent to Khartoum; among them was Hicks Pasha, at one time an officer in the Indian army, now the newly appointed Commander-in-Chief of the Khedive’s troops in the Soudan.

In September, 1883, Hicks, acting under the orders of the Egyptian government, led an expedition into the depths of Kordofan, where the Mahdi had retired to organise the tribesmen, from thirty to sixty thousand strong, whom his recent victories had attracted to his standard. Hicks commanded about 11,000 weakly and ill-fed men, of whom many were so unwilling to be soldiers that to prevent desertion they had to be sent up the Nile in chains. His artillery consisted of thirty-six Krupp, Nordenfelt, and mountain guns, and his transport was supplied by six thousand horses and camels. The whole of the Egyptian troops were thoroughly out of heart; they were aware that they were about to march into a country of which little was known except that it was almost waterless, and that they would encounter hordes of desperate and ruthless fanatics. As the men filed out of Khartoum they were in floods of tears. The fate of such an army may easily be imagined: on the 5th of November it was surprised by the Mahdi with 40,000 of his followers, and cut to pieces, near El Obeid in Kordofan.[253] Hicks and the other Europeans died fighting dauntlessly to the last; the Egyptians allowed themselves to be butchered almost without resistance: three hundred were given quarter, only to become the slaves of the victors, into whose hands passed the guns, much ammunition, thousands of rifles, and all the transport animals. One man alone escaped to bring the news to Khartoum. Yet so little was the importance of the Mahdist movement appreciated by the English government that at the very time Hicks’s column was being destroyed in Kordofan, Mr Gladstone was urging the reduction of the British army of occupation in Egypt. When Hicks’s fate became known in Cairo the situation grew very complicated. The Cabinet in London, afraid of being drawn into armed intervention in the Soudan, had persistently assumed an attitude of aloofness on the subject of Hicks’s operations, and, affecting to ignore the fact that Britain was virtually, though not officially, mistress in Egypt, and that a word from her representative at Cairo, Lord Cromer (then Sir Evelyn Baring), would have stopped the expedition, declined all responsibility on the ground that it had been undertaken solely on the authority of the Egyptian government. The annihilation of Hicks’s army had placed Khartoum in a position of great danger: only two thousand troops were left to man the four miles of earthworks by which the town was ringed, and its communications with Cairo and Suakim were seriously threatened. The generals in command of the British army at Cairo admitted that, if the Mahdi advanced on Khartoum, it would be impossible to hold it in its existing condition, and that in all probability the whole valley of the Nile, as far south as Wadi Halfa, would be lost to Egypt. Alarmed at the crushing blow which had befallen him, and at the consequences likely to follow it, the Khedive begged that British troops might be sent to the Soudan, or, if these should not be forthcoming, that a contingent of Turks might be imported to hold Khartoum. Our government refused to move a single soldier to the Soudan, but had no objection to the employment of a Turkish force to garrison Khartoum, provided that no expense was thereby thrown upon the Egyptian Treasury. They, however, advised Tewfik to abandon all territory south of Assouan, softening the blow by the promise that England would defend not only Egypt proper, but also the ports of the Red Sea against the Mahdists. To this wholesale dismemberment of his dominions the Khedive demurred, and again suggested a Turkish occupation of the Soudan, whereupon England sternly replied that if the Egyptian ministers would not carry out the evacuation of the Soudan they would have to make room for Englishmen, ready to enforce her policy. The Khedive thereupon withdrew his opposition, and agreed that the whole of the Soudan, except the port of Suakim, should be abandoned to its fate. During these negotiations the situation at Khartoum had become so serious that the senior European officer there, in reporting that it would be impossible to hold the town against the whole population of the Soudan, which had now thrown in its lot with the Mahdi, urged that immediate orders should be given for a withdrawal down the river. The question next arose--who was to effect the withdrawal, not only of the troops, but also of the officials, traders, and other members of the civil army of occupation in the Soudan?

The English ministers then bethought themselves of General Gordon, one of the most remarkable characters of the nineteenth century. His career had been a strange and eventful one. After serving with distinction as a Royal Engineer in the Crimea, the chances of war carried him to the Far East where he played his part in the Anglo-French expedition to China. When the object of the campaign was accomplished, peace was signed with the Emperor of China, but the end of the war found some of the most fertile provinces of the Celestial Empire in the hands of great hordes of insurgents, with whom the Chinese authorities were wholly unable to cope. Gordon was lent to the Emperor to command a force of Chinamen, raised by himself and officered by adventurers of mixed nationality. With a rare combination of military talent and personal courage, readiness to assume responsibility, power of influencing his subordinates, and complete absence of self-seeking, he welded his unpromising material into good soldiers, with whom he stormed many walled towns and won battles innumerable against vastly superior numbers. After a long struggle, in which his men earned the title of “the ever-victorious army,” he completely crushed the rebels; and then, disbanding the troops who had learned to look upon him as invincible, he returned to Europe with the justly earned reputation of a born leader of men. During his five years’ sojourn in the Soudan Gordon had acquired great influence over its inhabitants. The fighting men had learned to follow, the slave-hunters to fear him: the traders respected his stern and evenhanded justice: all classes knew that his word, once pledged, was never broken, and that his orders must be obeyed to the letter. At a few hours’ notice, Gordon was sent to Egypt to secure the retreat of the garrison of Khartoum and of the thousands of civilians who would probably wish to accompany it, and also to effect the evacuation of the remainder of the Soudan. For this enormous task he was allowed one Staff officer, Colonel D. Stewart,[254] 11th Hussars, with whom he reached Khartoum on February 18, 1884.

While Gordon was on his way up the Nile, the tide of war was setting strongly against the Egyptians in the eastern Soudan, where a wing of the Mahdi’s army was commanded by Osman Digna, an ex-slave dealer who had been ruined by the capture of his _dhows_ by British cruisers. Osman Digna had stormed several fortified towns and villages, held by the Khedive as outposts round Suakim, and had cut to pieces columns of Egyptian troops sent at various times to the relief of the garrisons scattered throughout the district. Suakim itself was threatened, and the ships of war then lying off the port landed bluejackets and Marines for its protection, while Major-General Sir Gerald Graham was sent from Cairo to reinforce them with 4000 British troops. There were two sharp engagements at El-Teb (February 29) and Tamai (March 13), in which Osman Digna fought with magnificent courage, but sustained such heavy losses that his power for evil appeared sufficiently diminished to warrant the withdrawal of the British soldiers from the eastern Soudan.

While these events were taking place round Suakim, things were going badly with Gordon at Khartoum, and though direct telegraphic communication with him was cut off about a month after his arrival, the news which reached Cairo showed that his position was becoming one of considerable danger. In April, the Secretary of State for War began to realise that it might become necessary to send an expedition to rescue Gordon, and called upon Lord Wolseley for a plan of campaign. In his reply Wolseley showed that Khartoum could only be approached by the caravan roads converging on Berber from the Red Sea or by the valley of the Nile, and strongly advocated the latter route. He proposed to move the dismounted troops up the river in boats, and after pointing out that Gordon’s supplies would not permit him to hold Khartoum later than the 15th of November, urged that immediate preparations should be made to meet possible contingencies. For several months government took little action beyond making inquiries about the track across the desert from Suakim to Berber, and sending naval officers up the Nile to report whether Lord Wolseley’s scheme was practicable. These officers reported against it, and Sir F. C. A. Stephenson, the General commanding the British troops in Egypt, agreed with their views. On the other hand, a committee composed of three officers who had taken part in the Red River expedition in Canada emphatically expressed their opinion that Wolseley’s plan was perfectly feasible, and pointed out that the naval objections to it were based on the assumption that steamers of considerable size, and boats up to 40 tons burden would be required, whereas the army only asked for whale-boats, which could be used at any state of the Nile.

While these discussions were going on, the tide of Mahdism steadily flowed northwards. To meet a possible attack upon Egypt proper, the bulk of the Khedive’s army, then in process of reorganisation by British officers, was hurried to Assouan, where it was strengthened by English battalions; the Nile was patrolled by steamers manned by the navy; and irregular levies of Bedouins, also commanded by British officers, were pushed up the river into Dongola, the most southern portion of the Egyptian dominions in which the authority of the Khedive was still recognised. Dongola was ruled by a Mudir who, though originally in sympathy with the Mahdi, had been won back by golden arguments to the cause of his Suzerain. In the course of the summer his territory was attacked; it was considered necessary to help him with British bayonets, and the 1st battalion of the Royal Sussex regiment was moved southwards from Assouan. On the 8th of August, only eight days before the Royal Sussex reached the town of Dongola, a vote of credit was obtained from the House of Commons to cover the expense of sending troops to the assistance of the Mudir; but though by this vote government definitely committed itself to the Nile route, and therefore to the use of small boats, it was not until the 12th that official sanction was given for the construction of these craft. Four hundred were then ordered, and in a few days the number was doubled. The boats were to carry twelve men with their equipment, ammunition, and rations; to be suitable alike for rowing, sailing before a wind, and tracking (_i.e._, being hauled up stream from the bank), for ascending and descending rapids, and for passing over shallow and rocky places in the river: to be as light as possible, yet strong enough to be dragged over short stretches of ground to avoid cataracts; and to be 32 feet in length, 6 feet 9 inches in breadth, and only 2 feet 6 inches in depth. The first consignment reached Alexandria on September 22, the last on October 18, 1884.

It had not been proposed to employ Lord Wolseley in the expedition, but on August 26, he was appointed to command the troops upon the Nile. He reached Cairo on September 9, when there were actually in Egypt, or on their way thither, a regiment of cavalry, one battery of Royal Horse artillery, one of Royal Field artillery, one camel battery of mountain guns, and two garrison batteries; four companies of Royal Engineers, one of which was at Suakim; a battalion of mounted infantry, 423 strong; and thirteen and a half battalions of infantry--in all, nearly 11,000 officers and men, among whom were the first battalion of the Royal Irish regiment. Not all these troops, however, were available for the actual operations at Khartoum when that far-distant goal should be approached. The garrisons of Cairo and Alexandria absorbed four and a half battalions of infantry, a squadron of cavalry, and all the artillery except the mountain guns. Though the Egyptian army held the line of communication from Cairo to Hannek, it was considered necessary to strengthen this section with a British battalion, while to secure the Nile between Hannek and Berber, at least five battalions would be required. Lord Wolseley aimed at placing about 5400 men in line at Shendi, a place on the river about 100 miles south of Berber, and the same distance to the northward of Khartoum, and after making allowance for the inevitable wastage of troops in an expedition such as he was to conduct, and for the possibility that he might have to send part of his column on a sudden dash across the desert, he asked the War Office to supply him with eleven hundred more men, volunteers from regular regiments at home, to be turned into “camelry”--_i.e._, infantry mounted upon camels. The request was granted, and these reinforcements arrived in time to reap a large share of the honours of the campaign.

Before any troops could be moved to Shendi, through a country from which little or no food could be obtained, it was necessary to form an advanced base as high up the river as possible, where stores of all kinds were to be collected before the main body began to arrive from Cairo. It was also necessary to establish along the line of communication on the river a chain of intermediate depôts, from which the troops would draw rations and thus preserve intact the cargo of stores with which each whale-boat was to be freighted. Korti was selected for the advanced base, and there, when the first thousand miles of its journey from the sea was accomplished, the expeditionary force was to effect its preliminary concentration.[255] As far as Wadi Halfa, about 750 miles above Cairo, the navigation of the Nile presents no great difficulties, and every available river steamer and river boat was pressed into the service. But above Wadi Halfa a formidable series of cataracts, or rapids as they should more accurately be termed, proved fatal to so many of the native craft that the transport of stores to the higher reaches had almost entirely to be carried out by the whale-boats. It was not until the 1st of November that a sufficient quantity of supplies had been sent up the river to warrant Lord Wolseley in moving the main body of his infantry. Then as speedily as possible each corps was despatched in turn on its journey southward. Towards the end of December the first battalion of infantry reached Korti, where the camelry, who had marched along the banks of the Nile, were beginning to assemble; in about four weeks more the last regiments arrived, and by the end of January the preliminary concentration had been successfully accomplished.

* * * * *

While the second battalion was winning fresh honours for the regiment at Tel-el-Kebir, the first battalion was in India. It was stationed at Meerut in August, 1884, when the welcome order was received to start for Egypt forthwith on active service. In high spirits at the prospect of a campaign, all ranks worked with a will; by the 20th the preparations were finished, and the Royal Irish, after a very hot railway journey, embarked at Bombay on the 29th, and three weeks later arrived at Cairo in magnificent order. They are described by an officer who was then serving with the regiment--

“When the 1st battalion Royal Irish landed in Egypt in 1884, it was, bar none, the finest battalion I have ever seen, both in physique and in general appearance. Under Colonel M. MacGregor they were considered to be the best dressed regiment in India, and since his departure they had lived up to their reputation. In this respect they presented a very marked contrast to many of the battalions in Egypt, who were dressed in a very hideous grey serge very similar to that worn by convicts, which was worn apparently exactly as it had been issued from store. Their physique was equally distinguishable from the Corps who had lately arrived from home. The average service was (if I remember right) about seven years, and the average height, taken from the annual return prepared at Wady Halfa, was 5.7¾, and the chest measurement was 38″. While we were at Cairo a gymkhana was held at Gezireh, where one of the events was a tug-of-war open to all troops in garrison. The Royal Garrison artillery for some time past had invariably won this contest: so invincible were they considered that no infantry regiments would compete against them, and they used to take the prize on every occasion with a ‘walk-over.’ On the arrival of the Royal Irish, we determined to enter our team, which had been practically unbeaten in India. On the day of the gymkhana the R.G.A. expected to have another ‘walk over,’ when to their surprise and to that of the spectators (we had kept the fact dark that we intended to enter a team), ten strapping Royal Irishmen, in jerseys of the regimental colours, stepped out on to the ground. The gunners were so unprepared for this that they hadn’t even taken the trouble to be suitably dressed for a tug-of-war. So confident were they of beating all comers that instead of the usual line they had arranged an open ditch filled with water, across which the opposing teams had to pull. It was not many minutes before the two leading gunners were in the water, and the rest, to save themselves a ducking, had to let go the rope!”

The Royal Irish were almost the last troops to leave lower Egypt; but at length the long-expected order reached them, and on the evening of November 12, 1884, they entrained for Assiut, the farthest point to which the railway ran up the Nile. The marching-out state showed a strength of seven hundred and forty-six officers and men.[256]

Next morning, after a journey of 229 miles, the Royal Irish arrived at Assiut, and at once exchanged the train for the barges in which they were to be towed 318 miles to Assouan, at the foot of the First Cataract. The men were packed into four barges, in each of which a subaltern was on duty for twenty-four hours at a time; the remainder of the officers were divided among the steamers and a _dahabiah_. “That night the halt was not sounded till 10 o’clock, when,” wrote a young officer of the Royal Irish, “a nice job we had of it. Our steamers did not keep together, so that we had to go along the bank for about a mile in the dark, and draw rations for the next day, and very ticklish work it was, as the path was quite close to the river and bits of the bank were continually falling in.” Progress was slow, for both barges and tugs occasionally ran on to sandbanks, and it was not until November 24, that the flotilla, which had been joined by the 2nd battalion, Royal West Kent regiment, reached its destination. As the barges could not pass the rapids the Royal Irish landed, and spent an unhappy day in the belief that they were to remain at Assouan. They had been ordered to encamp, and some of the officers were on their way to select the ground, when a tremendous roar of cheers and Irish yells told them the battalion had received good news; shortly afterwards a staff-officer informed them that they were to proceed up the river forthwith, and after a short journey in the railway turning the rapids, the Royal Irish re-embarked at Shellal, this time in the sailing-boats or _dahabiahs_ in which the traffic of the Nile from time immemorial has been carried on. The next stage (210 miles) in the voyage was to Wadi Halfa, the frontier town of Egypt, and the most southern point which Roman legions had occupied in the valley of the Nile. Here a long stretch of rapids called the Second Cataract barred the passage of all local craft at that time of year, and the troops landed and went into camp, where owing to a block on the line of communication the battalion was detained for more than a fortnight. This halt was by no means a restful one, for the fatigues were incessant, but some of the officers found time to reconnoitre the nearest of the rapids through which they were about to pass, and reported that a task awaited the XVIIIth as arduous in its way as any that had fallen to the lot of the regiment during the two centuries of its existence. The Second Cataract, like that at Assouan, is turned by a line of railway thirty-three miles in length, which ended at Gemai, where, in an improvised dockyard, the whale-boats lay waiting for the Royal Irish. By December 16, the line of communication was again clear, and the first detachment--B and E companies under command of Lieutenant-Colonel Wray--were sent by rail to Gemai, where they took possession of their “whalers,” and many stores. When these were packed the flotilla started in single file, and sometimes sailing, sometimes rowing (with many different strokes and styles), worked up a smooth stretch of river till nightfall, when the boats were tied up to the bank, and the crews disembarked and pitched their camps. Next morning the detachment reached Sarras, where the remainder of the stores were issued. Each whaler carried the arms, ammunition, tents, and camp equipage of her crew, materials for repairing any damage she might sustain on the voyage, and cases containing a hundred days’ rations for twelve men. These cases were not to be opened, but were to be delivered intact at the point of concentration, the supplies for current use being drawn at the various posts on the line of communication. By the time the whole of the freight (about four tons) was on board the boats, the load of boxes at stem and stern rose so high above the gunwales that the men at the oars were half-hidden behind the high-piled cargoes.

Lord Wolseley had always attributed much of the success of the little Red River expedition to the skill of the boatmen, or _voyageurs_ who navigated his canoes over the waterways of Canada. With some difficulty he induced the British government to sanction the enrolment of a corps of Canadian boatmen for the much larger expedition of 1884; nearly four hundred officers and men were raised, many of whom proved themselves as valuable on the Nile as their predecessors had been on the rivers of Ontario and Manitoba. These _voyageurs_ joined the whalers at Sarras: they were placed in charge of the actual handling of the boats, but, except as watermen, they had no authority. The flotilla as a whole was in charge of the regimental officers, who were distributed among the whalers, but in every company many boats were necessarily commanded by sergeants and even by corporals. In most cases the non-commissioned officers were as ignorant of boat work as their men, and with their crews had to learn by experience the use of oars and sails, the employment of poles to prevent the whalers from being dashed against the rocks, and the art of tracking. Even the best of the _voyageurs_, though experts in other branches of boatmanship, knew nothing of sails, which were not used in the navigation of the rivers with which they were familiar. In the forenoon of December 18, B and E companies pushed off from Sarras, followed by the remainder of the battalion, less G company, which next day brought up the rear. Thus the whole battalion was now afloat, engaged in a ceaseless struggle with the rapids of the Nile, and greatly handicapped by want of _voyageurs_, of whom the supply had run so short that instead of a couple of Canadians being posted to each boat, as had been the case with the corps first up the river, only two could now be allotted to each company of the Royal Irish. The difficulties encountered, as will be seen, were enormous, but the first battalion of the Royal Irish overcame them with brilliant success, and made the passage up the river faster than any other corps in the expeditionary force. In order to “get the last ounce” of work out of his troops, Lord Wolseley appealed to both the sporting and the patriotic instincts of his soldiers by offering a prize of £100 to the non-commissioned officers and men of the battalion which made the fastest run with the fewest accidents from Sarras to Debbeh, and by promising that the winning corps should be selected for the post of honour in the farther advance towards Khartoum. The money prize was awarded to the Royal Irish, who thus won the right to share in the hardships of the march across the desert to Metemmeh. Before that march is described, some account must be given of the portion of the Nile up which the Royal Irish had to force their way before they could hope to strike a blow for the relief of Gordon. For eighty miles above Sarras the river runs through a wild and barren region known as Batn-el-Hájar or the Womb of Rocks, of which the official historian gives the following description:--

“After leaving Sarras the first serious obstacle to navigation is the cataract of Semneh, the foot of which is reached after an eleven miles’ pull against a smooth, swift current running between high rocky banks. Then come ten miles of swifter-flowing water, against which, however, with the help of a moderate breeze, it is possible to proceed with the help of the track lines. At the head of this rapid is the great ‘Gate of Semneh,’ a narrow gorge, between two rocky cliffs, partly blocked by two islands about equi-distant from the shores and from each other. Through the three passages thus formed the whole pent-up volume of the Nile rushes as through a sluice-gate. Here the boats have to be unloaded, and their cargoes, package by package, carried for half a mile over the rocks and deposited near smooth water above the cataract. Then the track lines are passed round the rocks, and two or three boats’ crews manning one line, each boat is in turn hauled by main force up the water slide and run in opposite its cargo on the beach.

“For the next sixteen miles the course of the river is unimpeded by any serious obstacle, still for every yard the current runs as strong as the Thames in flood, on every side the basalt mountains radiate their heat, and everywhere the sunken rocks lie in wait for the unwary steersman. At the end of this distance the cataract of Ambako is reached, a very different piece of water to that of Semneh. At the latter spot an obstacle to navigation was formed by the volume of the Nile being pent into a narrow gorge; at Ambako the same effect is produced by a broad expanse of river being choked by an innumerable mass of reefs and islets. At full high Nile, when the lower rocks are buried deep beneath the surface, the cataract is not a formidable one; but as the river falls and reef after reef makes its appearance, the difficulties of navigation increase, until at low Nile the cataract has become impassable for the larger native craft, and is a grave source of difficulty even to the buoyant English whalers.

“Here every means of propulsion has to be employed. At one moment the whalers, under the lee of some islet, may be paddled gently up a narrow lane of almost stagnant water. Then, as the shelter of the rock is lost, though its crew pull for dear life, it is carried back some hundreds of yards until a point of vantage is reached near the shore. Next the track line is got out, and step by step the boat is hauled round a projecting point by a treble boat’s crew. Now a fresh breeze and a clear reach of moderate water make it just possible to gain a few hundred yards by making the very most of sails and oars; then a bit of shelving shore is met with, along which good progress may be made by half the crew tracking, while the remainder stay on board and use their punt-poles. At length, by dint of perseverance, the five miles of rapid are surmounted in twice as many hours of incessant labour, and another eight miles of open water are entered on.”[257]

Though no two cataracts are exactly alike, their general features are much the same, and therefore it is enough merely to mention the others passed by the XVIIIth. Above the rapids of Ambako came the cataract of Tanjur, which, though only two miles and a half long, usually took the boats a whole day to ascend, and fifteen miles higher up was another rapid, nearly as troublesome as that of Semneh. This was succeeded by ten miles of smooth water running between hills crowned with ruins, relics of a nation so ancient that its very name has been forgotten. Then followed the cataract of Dal, round which stores had to be carried for three or four miles by hand; these rapids once passed, the boats entered a long reach of calm but swift-running water 100 miles in length, at the head of which two more cataracts, those of Kaiber[258] and Hannek, had to be surmounted. From Hannek to Korti the navigation of the Nile was fairly easy.

The record of the forty days spent by the battalion between Sarras and Korti is one of unceasing toil. The Royal Irish worked like galley slaves. From dawn to dark, in burning and daily increasing heat, they rowed, and poled, and hauled the boats by ropes through the easier portions of the rapids. In the more difficult places it became necessary to lighten the whalers, and the crews had to unload them partially or entirely and to transport the cargo across the rocks, work the boats through the broken water, and then carefully repack them, with the knowledge, acquired by bitter experience, that an hour or two later the performance would have to be repeated. Occasionally, to avoid some especially bad piece of river, the boats had to be emptied, lifted out of the water, and hauled across country on the rollers provided for the purpose. Sometimes a boat missed the narrow passage among the rocks which barred her way, and was whirled backwards down the current until the men on the banks, hanging on to the drag ropes with their arms almost wrenched from the sockets, succeeded in hauling her into slack water. Occasionally a whaler was wrecked; nearly every day and sometimes several times in the day one or more were injured by striking against submerged rocks, and in default of professional boat-builders the officers had to repair the damage themselves. Major-General (then Captain) Burton Forster’s diary contains many references to his labours as a shipwright, and a few are quoted almost at random, to show what “handy men” the officers of the XVIIIth became in the expedition of 1884-85. “Found Sergeant Evans’s boat again broken at a small rapid. Stopped, and put in a plank about nine feet long, as the original one was cracked all that distance.” ... “Got all the ten boats of my Company up rapids by dark and beached them for repairs.” ... “Four-fifths of the keel torn off Corporal ----’s boat, mended her.” The work went on for seven days a-week; there was no rest on Sundays, or even on Christmas day, the entry for which runs--“Divine service for Roman Catholics, then drew boats up main rapids, kept moving, and unloaded in the evening.” In less arduous circumstances the voyage up the Nile would have proved a pleasant experience, for the scenery possesses a weird beauty of its own, wholly unlike that of any other part of the world; the climate is glorious, and the endless series of ruins which line the banks interesting in the extreme. But the officers of the Royal Irish had no time to admire scenery, or to study the archæology of the ancient Egyptians. They had suddenly been turned into fresh-water sailors; they had become jacks-of-all-trades--shipwrights, doctors, dock labourers; they had to maintain discipline, to keep up _morale_, and to cheer the men when under the strain of unceasing toil even their buoyant spirits for a moment flagged.

An officer of the regiment thus records his reminiscences of the boat work on the Nile--

“Greatcoats and nothing else was the favourite kit with the men of my boat, who prided themselves on their dress and were anxious to save one good suit of khaki in which, they said, they would march into Khartoum. It was a handy costume when you stuck on a sandbank or struck upon a rock, as you could be overboard in a second to shove the boat off. Very often my men used to row in their ‘birth-day suits’! Just before we started up the Nile I had been transferred to a new company, and my skipper[259] left the detailing of the crews of the boats to the Colour-Sergeant, who took advantage of my youth and innocence (?) to put into my boat ten of the biggest blackguards in the company, and a really good corporal of the old stamp (Corporal George M‘Kee). Though I was new to the company, my future boat’s crew were well known to me by name and sight as being constant attenders at the Orderly Room, so I thought a ‘few kind words’ would do them no harm, and consequently informed them that I knew them well, but that we were going to have no d----d nonsense in my boat, or out of it they would go to sink or swim! A grin of amusement was all the answer I got to my short speech.

“When we started off the Corporal and I were the only two men who had ever handled an oar in their lives. Luckily the Corporal was a good tough nut, and had been stroke in the regimental boat some years previously when we were in Malta. That first day’s row is still a nightmare to me. We left Sarras at 12 noon, the Corporal and I doing the rowing, while the remainder did their best to imitate us, but only succeeded for the most part in ‘catching crabs.’ The current for the Nile was slight--but except quite close in-shore it ran at about 3 miles an hour. Unfortunately our Cox, never having handled a tiller before, kept alternately running us out into the stream or into the banks. The distance from Sarras to Gemai was only 12 or 14 miles, but we did not get there till 8 P.M., and I thought we should never get there. I was more dead-beat than I have ever been before or since, and once I had thrown myself on to the sand when we eventually reached Gemai, I could not have gone another yard. However, youth and a sound sleep worked wonders, and next morning I was as fit as a fiddle, and started loading up the food stuff--a job requiring a lot of time and care, as each box had to be fitted into its place like blocks in a Chinese puzzle. With the stores, we also took in one or two Canadian _voyageurs_ per company. My company had two. Regiments who had preceded us had had a _voyageur_ for each boat, but a good many of them had become ‘fed up’ and had gone home or to Hospital, and by the time the Royal Irish went up the river, the supply only ran to about one or two for every 10 or 12 boats.

“I was given a French Canadian, and the company tool chest, and told to bring up the rear--a pleasant task which meant I had to go to the assistance of any boat in difficulties on a rock or sandbank, come last into the night’s halting-place, and when there sit up most of the night mending the ‘lame ducks’ of the fleet. The actual mending did not take so long, as we soon learnt to patch up holes and tears, but the repairs usually involved the unloading of the boat, and fitting together the ‘Chinese puzzle’ of boxes in the dark was an operation that took two or three hours.

“My Canadian was a very fine specimen of his class, and had a flow of bad language--both French and English--that I have seldom heard surpassed or even equalled. Owing to my being able to talk a certain amount of French, we became very good friends, and under his instruction I became an expert _voyageur_ both at the helm and with the pole in the bows, and could have taken a boat up any of the rapids. Though we were such good friends, it did not prevent him ‘doing me in the eye.’ Each boat had a box labelled ‘Medical comforts,’ which was on no account to be opened. Very foolishly the authorities had a printed label on the box showing its contents, which in addition to beef-tea, arrowroot, &c., also consisted of 2 bottles of brandy and two of port wine. It had been reported that no box of medical comforts had reached its destination intact. I determined that my boat should be the exception, so the box was put in the stern of the boat, so that I could keep my eye on it during the day while I pulled stroke, and at night I slept on it in the boat. Never did it go out of my sight except at the portages, when my friend George, the Canadian, volunteered to carry it for safety’s (?) sake. I drew the line at carrying boxes at portages, and trusted George. When, however, my box was examined on arrival at Korti, though it appeared quite untouched, the liquor was all gone, the arrowroot, &c., were, however, quite complete; George had no use for _them_!

“It was marvellous how quickly the men took to rowing. In a few days they were pulling powerful if not stylish oars, and they certainly put their hearts and their backs into it. My crew of blackguards were simply splendid, and we never had any difference of opinion. On one occasion we came to a very stiff bit of water, and I turned round and said, ‘Now, boys, we’ll have to pull here,’ and the man behind--one of the biggest and sturdiest scamps in the battalion, said, ‘Begorra, sir, we’ll pull to hell wid you,’ and a voice from the bows added, ‘and out the other side, sir.’

“The Nile sores were the things that troubled us most; any scratches or in many cases ordinary rowing blisters, turned into festering sores which nothing could cure so long as we remained on the river. I took the skin off my ankle shoving the boat off a rock, and tho’ I kept it perfectly clean, and put vaseline on it, it would not heal. The strange thing was that once we got into the desert, tho’ we could not wash, these sores all began to heal at once.

“Other regiments suffered terribly from lice, but so far as I know we had none in the Royal Irish. I certainly had none in my company. I attribute this to the fact that our men were always in the water to shove the boat off if she stuck on a sandbank or rock, while I noticed other regiments seemed to dislike getting into the water, and used to try to shove off a boat that stuck with poles and oars, and much bad language. The day’s work did not vary much: we awoke at the first streak of dawn--had some tea or coffee and biscuit--bully beef if you cared for it, and then used to sail if the wind was really strong--which to us seemed very seldom,--to sail and row, if the wind was only moderate. If there was no wind, or an adverse one, it was a case of rowing, or towing if the bank was favourable, the latter being a quicker mode of progression than rowing against the strong current. If we had a really good sailing breeze, we didn’t like to waste it, and had cold bully beef and biscuit at about midday as we sailed along, but if we had had a tough morning’s row or two, we used to halt for about an hour to have a hot meal. At about sunset the leading boat of the company would halt for the night at some suitable spot, and the others if possible closed up. This often was not possible, owing to the numerous mishaps that were always taking place from bumps on rocks and sandbanks. The boats, when the Royal Irish took them over, had done several trips already, and were for the most part in a pretty rotten condition, and the materials for repairing them had run out, so that we had to use any expedients such as biscuit tins, &c., to patch them up. I thought myself lucky if on arrival at the night halting-place there was no damaged boat to mend, and that in consequence I could get a full night’s sleep--such a splendid sleep it was, too, under the clear sky of the Soudan winter! The ordinary monotony of the journey was broken at places like Dal, where one had to pull for four solid hours up a gigantic mill-stream, sometimes only gaining a few feet after half an hour’s pull, when one’s muscles felt as if they would crack. At Dal we took out the rifles and ammunition and a few of the boxes out of each boat, took a picked crew of eight men, and had two half-breed Indians in the boat, one at the helm, the other in the bows with a pole. It was most exciting work, and at first the task looked an impossible one, but the skill with which the _voyageurs_ took advantage of every back water, and shot past the most dangerous-looking places was perfectly marvellous. Most of us officers learnt the trick before we reached Korti, and could have qualified as _voyageurs_. Amongst the _voyageurs_ I should tell you, there were some who had not much claim to the title, and hardly knew the stern of a boat from the bow. They had come out for a picnic, but when they saw the Cataracts they ‘went sick’! One of the so-called _voyageurs_ was a man who had been in the Royal Irish a short time before we went to Egypt. He was a smart, plucky fellow, who soon learnt the tricks of the trade, and by the time the regiment came up he was quite an expert, and went by the name of ‘Dare-Devil Dick.’ Some of the _voyageurs_ were an insubordinate lot, and gave a good deal of trouble--especially in wanting to halt, and as they were not subject to military law it was difficult to know what to do with them on these occasions. One gentleman, however, met his match, after he had been particularly abusive to an officer who was well known in the service for his handiness with his fists. The _voyageur_, amongst other things, said that he was not going to obey any one’s orders, and that he was as good a man as any officer, so the officer told his men to row ashore, which they did; he then took off his coat and said, ‘You said you were as good a man as I am, take off your coat and I’ll show you whether you are or not.’ The Canadian looked at him for a moment, and then said, quite quietly, ‘No, boss, I guess not.’ ‘All right,’ said the officer, ‘you will obey my orders in future, or out of the boat you go, neck and crop.’ After that there was no further trouble.

“Pipes, or rather a lack of pipes, were soon a matter of great difficulty. The old soldier had not acquired the modern habit of cigarette smoking, and clay pipes were practically the only kind the men ever smoked. In the rough work of the Nile boat the supply of these soon gave out, and in my boat after about a week there was only one stump of a ‘dhudheen’ left amongst the twelve of us. This was passed round, each man getting ‘two or three draws and a spit’ out of it. I had started with three or four briar pipes, but they all disappeared--appropriated, I regret to say, by officers. As I did not care to share the dirty little stump that did duty for a pipe in my boat, I had to devise something as a substitute for my beloved briars. A broken oar-handle for the bowl, a boat’s auger, and a hollow reed for the stem soon provided me with the means of making quite a serviceable article. As the ash of the oar got very charred, the bowl had to be lined with a bit of biscuit tin. My patent was soon copied, and in a few days, as far as my crew was concerned, it was a case of ‘one man one pipe.’ My pipe did me yeoman’s service till after the return of the battalion from Metemmeh, when, amongst other luxuries in the shape of jam and sardines, an enterprising Greek brought up a store of wooden pipes which he sold at fabulous prices.”

The only amusement on the voyage was to watch the wild geese and pelicans which abounded in some parts of the river, to look for traces of the hippopotami, much disturbed by the long procession of whale-boats through the upper part of the river, and to take “pot-shots” at the crocodiles. The old ones were wary, and offered but indifferent targets for the officers’ revolvers; the young ones, less used to the ways of mankind, were slower in taking to the water. One, indeed, remained so long on an overhanging bank that when a party of the Royal Irish approached him his only means of escape was by taking a header into the water, right over a man who was standing on the edge of the river.

On the 23rd of January the leading boats reached Korti, where by the 27th the whole regiment was assembled, but not in the same strength as it left Cairo. The hardships and fatigues of the unaccustomed life had taken toll, and many men had been dropped at various hospitals on the line of communication.[260] One soldier had been drowned in the Nile, a fate which Lieutenant-Colonel Hugh Shaw, V.C., nearly shared. His boat was working close in-shore when a sudden fall of earth and stones from the bank struck her gunwale, and threw him into the swiftly running river. As soon as the dust had cleared away he was seen struggling in the stream; instantly Orderly-Room Sergeant Hanrahan and Colour-Sergeant Moylan plunged into the water, swam to him, and held him up until all three were rescued. For this gallant action the bronze medals of the Royal Humane Society were awarded to these non-commissioned officers. The Royal Irish won great praise not only for the short time in which they made the passage from Sarras, but also for the excellent care they had taken of the stores with which their boats were freighted, and Lord Wolseley’s thanks were officially conveyed to them in a special general order dated the 4th of February, 1885.

“The following battalions in the order given have completed the journey from Sarras to Debbeh in the quickest time:--

1. The 1st Battalion Royal Irish. 2. The 1st Battalion Gordon Highlanders. 3. The 1st Battalion Royal West Kent.

The 2nd Division Naval Brigade, the Royal Irish, and the Royal West Kent have distinguished themselves by the care they have taken of their boats. The division of the Naval Brigade and Captain Forster’s Company of the Royal Irish handed in their supplies at Korti complete, no case or package being either damaged or missing. General Lord Wolseley congratulates the men of the Royal Irish most heartily upon having won the small prize which he offered to mark his personal appreciation of the battalion which should accomplish the difficult journey of about 370 miles in the shortest time. As they have been first on the river, so he hopes they may be amongst the first to enter Khartoum, and he feels assured that he can wish this old and distinguished regiment nothing more thoroughly in accordance with its own desires.

“It has been most gratifying to watch the manner in which all the battalions have striven to reach at the earliest date this point where the army was to concentrate, and Lord Wolseley warmly thanks both officers and soldiers for the untiring spirit shown by them in overcoming the many and serious obstacles to navigation presented by the cataracts and rapids of the great river. All alike have worked well and cheerfully under conditions entailing considerable privation and continuous labour.

“The conduct of all ranks has been most creditable to the army, and Lord Wolseley will not fail to bring the energy and discipline that have been shown to the notice of Her Majesty the Queen.

“EVELYN WOOD, “_Chief of Staff_.”

In forwarding his cheque for £100 Lord Wolseley wrote as follows:--

“CAMP KORTI, THE SOUDAN, “_11th March 1885_.

“DEAR COLONEL SHAW,--It is with the greatest pleasure that I send you the enclosed cheque for £100, the prize won by your splendid Battalion by having come up the Nile to Debbeh in boats in less time than any other Regiment. Being an Irishman myself it is very gratifying to feel that my small prize has been carried off by my own countrymen.--Believe me to be, dear Col. Shaw, very truly yours, WOLSELEY.”

The general situation, as far as it was known when the XVIIIth reached Korti, was very gloomy. Khartoum was besieged on three sides, and on Gordon now rested the entire burden of its defence. In August he had sent his only fellow-countrymen, Lieutenant-Colonel D. Stewart and Mr Power, the correspondent of ‘The Times,’ on a mission down the river; their steamer had been wrecked, and they had been treacherously murdered by Arabs who had offered them hospitality. Thus with no officer whom he could trust, no friend in whom he could confide, he was left alone to face the hordes of fanatics by whom he was surrounded, while his men were suffering much from physical privations, and from the mental depression produced by waiting in vain for the British troops who, as their General had repeatedly assured them, were coming to their help. The tone of Gordon’s latest messages, brought by native runners to Lord Wolseley, showed that his position was growing so desperate that the time for which Khartoum could hold out must no longer be reckoned in months and weeks, but in days and hours. A modification of the plan of campaign had therefore become necessary. In the original scheme the point for the second concentration of the relieving force was fixed at Shendi, a town on the right bank of the Nile, faced on the opposite shore by the villages of Metemmeh and Gubat. But the passage of a column of boats over the four hundred miles of river between Korti and Shendi would inevitably take several weeks. Hitherto the troops had only been called upon to overcome natural difficulties: now they would be in the enemy’s country, and while working up rapids at least as troublesome as those already ascended, they would be exposed at any moment to attack and consequent delay. Even if unmolested on the lower reaches, they were committed to one serious military operation, the capture of Berber, a town on the Nile a hundred miles below Shendi; it commanded the river, and therefore must be seized and occupied before the expedition could pass it on the voyage up stream. From these various causes the column must necessarily move so slowly that long before the first whaler could be expected to appear off Shendi, Gordon might be overwhelmed, yet the Nile was the only route by which a large body of troops with adequate supplies could be placed within striking distance of Khartoum. For smaller detachments, however, the river was not the only possible line of advance. A glance at the map will show that the Nile in its windings between Shendi and Korti forms two sides of a huge triangle, the third side of which is marked by the camel track, 173 miles in length, linking Korti with Metemmeh. This road crosses the Bayuda desert, a barren waste of sand, dotted at rare intervals with wells for the most part inadequate for the needs of any considerable number of animals and men--yet in a dash across this desert lay the only hope of saving Gordon.

Lord Wolseley determined to divide the force which remained available for active operations after the safety of his line of communication had been secured. To Major-General Earle he entrusted the “river column,” a strong brigade of all arms, which, after capturing Berber, was to establish an advanced base near Shendi. The camel corps and various other troops were placed under the orders of Brigadier-General Sir Herbert Stewart, who was to lead the “desert column” across country to Metemmeh, and there establish an advanced base. If the information he received there convinced him that Khartoum was at the last gasp, he was to push forward at once with the “camelry” to Gordon’s rescue, but if the danger did not seem immediate he was to stand fast, and co-operate with Earle when the river column had won its way to Shendi. If Stewart halted at Metemmeh, his Intelligence officer, Colonel Sir Charles Wilson, was to embark with a few picked men on the Egyptian steamers which were known to be waiting on that part of the Nile to establish touch with the British, push on towards Khartoum, and, if possible, communicate with Gordon.

Though Lord Wolseley was intensely anxious to place Stewart’s column within reach of Gordon, it was not until the end of December that the preparations for the movement were completed. Among the innumerable difficulties which confronted the commander of the expedition two stood out pre-eminently. One was the probability, almost the certainty, that at Metemmeh the desert column would find neither food for themselves nor forage for their camels, and that a large amount of bulky supplies must therefore accompany the troops. The other was the fact that, although camels were the only means by which stores could be carried across the desert, the number of these animals at his disposal was inadequate, and could not be supplemented from local sources, as the Mudir of Dongola had failed in his promise to obtain a large quantity of them from his tribesmen. As enough camels could not be collected to carry to Metemmeh in one trip the _personnel_ and supplies of the column, Wolseley decided to cross the Bayuda desert by stages. To carry out this plan it was necessary, as a first measure, to form a depôt between Korti and Metemmeh; and Gakdul,[261] 98 miles from Korti, was selected, as it was known that its two or three natural reservoirs yielded a good supply of drinking water. In addition to the stores which were to be left at Gakdul, and the supplies for the march there and back, the camels had to carry not only their own food, for the desert yielded but scanty grazing, but also water for the whole column, as it was known that the wells between Korti and Gakdul could not be depended upon. As the XVIIIth a month later followed the track of this convoy, the details of the march of Stewart’s “camelry” will show how remarkable were the performances of the first battalion, when it crossed the desert on foot. At 3 P.M. on December 30, 1884, the first convoy of 2206 camels started, with an escort of about 1100 troops, the mounted infantry on camels, the XIXth Hussars on their horses. With an interval of two hours the column marched till 7.30 A.M. on the 31st, rested for eight hours, then pushed on again, stopping at 8 P.M. for a short time at the wells of Hambok, where a small quantity of very indifferent water was obtained, and halted at 1.15 A.M. on January 1, 1885, at the well of El Howeiya, which yielded no better water than that of Hambok. At 8.30 A.M. the convoy was again in motion, and plodded on till 1 P.M., rested for two hours and a half, and then pushed on throughout the night and early morning until at 6.45 A.M. on the 2nd it reached Gakdul, where there proved to be abundance of good water. The ninety-eight miles from Korti had been covered in 63¾ hours, 32¾ hours of which had been spent in actual marching; but weary as the troops were, no rest could be allowed them. The stores with which the camels were loaded had to be unpacked and arranged in proper order; the camels to be watered--a process which occupied the whole day, and the post to be prepared for defence, for though from the absence of formed bodies of the enemy it was clear that the march across the desert had taken the Mahdists by surprise, their scouts had been seen hovering in the distance.

Before the next stage in the advance to Metemmeh could be undertaken the intermediate base had to be completely filled up with supplies, and to bring these, Stewart started on the return journey to Korti less than fourteen hours after he had reached Gakdul. He left behind him a garrison of 422 officers and men to guard the wells, and improve the arrangements for watering the troops and the camels; and he dropped small parties at the minor water-holes to clean them to the best of their ability. By noon on the 5th Stewart was back at Korti; but though his men had not suffered from their exertions, his camels had felt the strain. Tired by their long march up the Nile, the animals were in poor condition when they left Korti; they had been on short rations of food and water on the journey to and from Gakdul, and though every effort had been made to bring more camels from lower Egypt, the supply of fresh animals was quite inadequate, and the rest of the work in the desert had to be done by beasts whose strength and endurance was rapidly diminishing. On the 7th a second convoy of 1000 camels left Korti: 100 were laden with small-arm ammunition, 80 with medical stores, 30 with artillery stores, the remainder with food supplies. This column reached Gakdul in safety, and on its return passed Stewart, who on the 8th marched from Korti with 1600 troops, about 300 natives (chiefly camel-drivers from Aden), 2228 camels, and 155 horses.

The second phase of the desert march began on January 14, when Stewart pushed southwards from Gakdul with 1802 officers and men, three light pieces of artillery and a “Gardner” gun, 155 horses belonging to the XIXth Hussars, 1700 riding and 1188 transport camels. Two days later the XIXth Hussars came into contact with the enemy near the wells of Abu Klea, where on the 17th the Mahdists, after a very desperate fight, were defeated with a loss of about a thousand killed. Our casualties were 9 officers and 65 other ranks killed, 9 officers and 85 other ranks wounded. Struggling onwards towards Metemmeh, the desert column again met the enemy on the 19th, this time at Abu Kru, close to the river. The Arabs fought with as much gallantry as at Abu Klea, but were again heavily defeated, and fled leaving the ground covered with their dead. To us the cost of this engagement was 1 officer and 22 other ranks killed, 8 officers and 90 other ranks wounded; among the latter was Sir Herbert Stewart, who eventually succumbed to his injuries. When he fell, Colonel Sir Charles Wilson succeeded to the command of the troops, though Captain Lord Charles Beresford, R.N., in charge of the small Naval contingent which accompanied the column, was actually the senior officer present.

On the 20th, Wilson occupied the village of Gubat, which is within half a mile of the river; next day he threatened Metemmeh, two miles farther inland, but before his attack had developed several Egyptian steamers came in sight, and some hundreds of Gordon’s Soudanese soldiers landed, bringing the news that a considerable body of Mahdists were advancing. Wilson recalled his troops; fortified himself at Gubat; reconnoitred in various directions, and after many delays owing to the worn-out machinery of the river-boats, embarked on the 24th with a handful of the Royal Sussex and a considerable number of the Soudanese on his mission to Khartoum. It was not until this date that he was able to send off a despatch to Lord Wolseley describing the battle of the 19th and the movements which followed it. This report reached Korti in the early morning of January 28, and Wolseley at once decided to send Sir Redvers Buller to take command of the desert column, and to reinforce it with infantry, who were not to be carried on camels but to march on foot. Mindful of his promise that the battalion which won his prize on the river should have every opportunity of distinguishing itself on land, Lord Wolseley selected the Royal Irish to accompany Sir Redvers, and ordered them to move in detachments, the headquarters with A, B, and C companies starting that evening, the remainder following as soon as possible. In the afternoon of January 28, 1885, the battalion paraded for Lord Wolseley’s inspection, dressed in the fighting kit devised for them by a former commanding officer, Colonel M. J. R. MacGregor. It consisted of a khaki-coloured frock and trousers of cotton drill, a helmet covered with the same material, grey woollen putties, a woollen shirt, socks, and ammunition boots; spine protectors, cholera belts, and drawers had been issued, but were not in general use among the rank and file; all hands carried haversacks, wooden water-bottles, and rolled greatcoats. The officers wore “Sam Browne” belts, which supported their swords and field-glasses, revolvers and cartridge-pouches; the non-commissioned officers and men were equipped with braces and waistbelts, pouches containing seventy rounds of ammunition, three-edged bayonets (longer than those in use at the present day), and Martini-Henry rifles. As in previous campaigns it had been discovered that when these rifles were fired fast, the barrels became so hot that it was almost impossible to grasp them, they were fitted with leather hand-guards, tightly laced round the stock and barrel behind the back-sight, to enable the men to get a firm grip of their weapons. The remainder of the campaigning kit was carried on transport camels; to every ten men was allotted one animal, which was loaded with their camp kettles, a blanket and a waterproof sheet apiece, and one or two sea-kit bags, each of which contained sets of the following articles, viz.: one flannel shirt, two pairs of socks, a tin of grease, a canteen, a towel, soap, and a hold-all, complete. The troops were allowed no tents.

When Lord Wolseley rode on to the parade ground he was saluted by as fine a body of soldiers as he had ever seen. By a process of natural selection the weakly men had been weeded out in the voyage up the river, and only those of perfect constitution had reached Korti. Thanks to the varied forms of exercise they had taken since they left Cairo, the soldiers drawn up before him were in rude health and fit to go anywhere and do anything. After he had warmly praised their appearance, which he described as “hard, lean, and long-legged,” and informed them that to the regiment would probably be awarded the prize for the race from Sarras to Debbeh, he warned the Royal Irish that very hard work awaited them in the Bayuda desert. Before they could reach Gakdul they would have to make six marches, each sixteen miles long, in a country so dry that they must not count on receiving more than half a gallon of water a-day, a ration which they must make do for drinking, cooking, and washing! He wound up his speech by telling the XVIIIth that he trusted soon to join it on the other side of the desert, a hope, however, doomed to be frustrated by specific orders from home desiring him to remain at Korti, the better to direct the movements both of the desert and the river columns, the latter of which had been set in motion on the 24th of January.

When the inspection was over the headquarter companies returned to their preparations for the march. The skins containing water for the journey were filled, rations drawn, camels taken down to the river to drink and then loaded, and just after nightfall on January 28, 1885, the column started--as all ranks hoped and believed for Khartoum. The first two or three stages of the journey across the desert were by no means agreeable. The men of the XVIIIth had not only to look after their own regimental camels and those of the large convoy they were escorting to Gakdul, but to watch over the safety of a number of slaughter cattle and to prevent the camel-drivers from tapping the water-skins, which were not to be opened unless by order of high authority. Though the Royal Irish had mastered the ways of a whale-boat in the rapids, they were new to the tricks of the camel-drivers, who, from idleness or dishonesty, often fastened the loads so insecurely that in the night everything slipped off the saddles and fell in a cascade upon the sand. The soldiers had to pick up the boxes of stores and baggage which littered the desert and re-pack them firmly; they had also to halt frequently to enable weakly or lazy animals to keep up in their proper places; but when, after two or three rude experiences, they had learned how to cope with the camels and the natives who drove them, these initial difficulties were overcome and the troops pushed sturdily on towards Gakdul. For the greater part of the way the track ran over great plains of yellow sand, which played havoc with the men’s boots, already partly worn out by the _portages_ on the Nile; but occasionally it crossed low round-topped ridges of black rock, belts of coarse dark-green grass, and thick growths of low acacia and mimosa trees. As the column marched at night and rested by day, the officers were able to get some sport; a gazelle was bagged and many sand-grouse were seen, though not hit, for the Martini-Henry rifle hardly lends itself to shooting birds on the wing! The rations consisted of a pound of ship’s biscuit and the same amount of preserved salt beef, an ounce of tea and three of sugar, an ounce of preserved vegetables, a quarter of an ounce of salt, and 1/320 of a gallon of lime juice. The thirst produced by the combined effect of the salt beef and the dry heat of the desert was great, and the regular allowance of half a gallon of water was hardly sufficient to quench it. General Forster’s diary records the joy with which all hands greeted the occasional issue of a larger supply; an additional quart rendered it possible to do a little cooking, while an extra half gallon brought some form of washing within the range of practical politics! On the half gallon issue the men could only spare enough water to make tea; as their salt beef had been well cooked before it was hermetically sealed in tin, they ate it cold; if water enough could be obtained, the preserved vegetables were soaked and boiled in the lid of a canteen.[262] To rest the camels, now breaking down fast from the combined effects of too much work and too little food and water, the convoy halted at the wells of El Howeyat for twenty-four hours and then marched on to Gakdul. The headquarters of the Royal Irish reached this post early on the 4th of February, and next day were joined by four more companies (D, E, F, and G) of the battalion under Lieutenant-Colonel Wray. Unencumbered by the charge of a large convoy, this detachment had covered the ninety-eight miles between Korti and Gakdul in a hundred and eight hours--a very fine performance for men who, though in perfect all-round training, had done no marching for many weeks.

The journey across the desert had so far been uneventful. The only exciting incident was the escapade of a lance-corporal, who temporarily losing his reason, wandered into the desert, and was not rescued till he had strayed twelve miles from the bivouac. A few tribesmen, captured by the irregulars who guarded the lines of communication, were the only enemies seen; they were wild-looking savages, short but wiry, with fierce eyes gleaming under shocks of matted hair, and armed with formidable spears more than five feet in length. They did not form part of the Mahdi’s regular army, but were local freebooters, more disposed to plunder than to fight. When the Royal Irish were a few miles north of Gakdul they met messengers hurrying to Korti with the news that Khartoum had fallen. On the 5th they had comparative rest, but on the 6th they were kept hard at work filling water-skins at the wells, ready for the next stage in their advance--Gakdul to Abu Klea, a distance of fifty-two miles. While thus employed they were joined by H company, which had been detained at Korti when the second detachment moved forward. In their anxiety to lose no chance of distinguishing themselves the company had made a great march, winding up by covering twenty-eight miles on the last day. Sir Redvers Buller, who had ridden part of the way from Korti with the headquarter companies, did not allow H company to start with the rest of the battalion when it marched on the 7th, but, mounting them on camels, sent them on a day or two later. How the men liked this new form of locomotion is not recorded, but it is probable that many agreed with the sailor who, after his first ride, remarked, “My camel is a queer beast. He’s been playing cup and ball with me all the afternoon and only missed me twice!”

Hitherto only the precautions usual in ordinary warfare had been taken on the march and in the bivouac, but now that the Royal Irish were well in the enemy’s country and liable to attack at any moment, the formation was adopted which recent experience had proved to be best suited for fighting in the Soudan. Under the immediate escort of one company, successive lines of camels, about forty abreast, lumbered along in a loose column which, if necessary, could be closed up into a solid mass. At one of the front angles of the column of camels were four companies; at the opposite rear angle was the remainder of the battalion, both marching in column or half-column of companies, ready to form square at a moment’s notice. The animals laden with the reserve of ammunition moved behind the leading companies into whose square they were to be received in case of danger; those bearing the rations and the water-skins followed the companies in rear, who were charged with their defence. If the enemy attacked, each square could support the other with flanking fire, and both could rake the ground over which spearmen would have to pass in order to close on the camels with the cold steel. At every halt square was formed, and at night the bivouacs were surrounded with _zaribas_--walls of stone, boxes of stores, saddles or mimosa bushes, anything, in short, which would serve to break a sudden rush of the Mahdi’s followers.

The column, however, was not attacked, and notwithstanding the cumbrous formation in which the Royal Irish moved they got over the ground fast, and on one occasion marched twenty-four miles in twenty-five hours and a quarter, coming in fairly fresh, alert, and fit for outpost duty. They reached Abu Klea on the morning of the 12th, passing close to the battlefield of January 17, still covered with dead bodies, for though the Mahdists had buried their chiefs, the rank and file remained where they had fallen. Two companies, C and E, were dropped at the wells to strengthen the garrison of the post; the remainder of the battalion, after a few hours’ rest, started for Gubat, where they arrived next day after a march of twenty-one miles, “swinging into bivouac,” as Sir Redvers Buller reported, “as cheerily as if they had been going to a field-day at Aldershot.” The troops of the desert column received the XVIIIth with great enthusiasm, turning out to a man to cheer it into camp. Among them were the soldiers who had accompanied Wilson in his abortive attempt to rescue Gordon from Khartoum, and who had just struggled back to Gubat after a series of adventures, remarkable even in the annals of the British army. In two tiny steamers, manned by natives of very doubtful loyalty, they had laboriously passed through the long and dangerous series of rapids known as the Sixth Cataract, and after running the gauntlet of the enemy’s guns and rifles, had arrived off Khartoum--to find that barely thirty-six hours earlier the town had been captured by the Mahdi, into whose hands Gordon, if he was still alive, had undoubtedly fallen. Wilson realised that his mission had failed, and with a heavy heart ordered his steamers to retire down the river. The retreat was conducted in circumstances as unpropitious as can be imagined; the native crews, excited at the defeat of the Christian General, were almost mutinous; the Soudanese, by far the majority of the fighting men on board, were stupefied by the knowledge that their wives and children were in the Mahdi’s clutches; every hour the dangers of navigation increased, for the Nile was sinking fast, and in one night dropped no less than three feet. But in spite of all difficulties Wilson made good progress down stream until his steamers, one after the other, were wrecked by the treachery of the Arab pilots. Landing his troops on an island he entrenched himself, and succeeded in informing the British at Gubat of his desperate plight. The sailors at once manned one of the river boats and fought their way up the Nile in time to save Wilson and his comrades from the destruction which threatened to overwhelm them.

On his way to Gubat, Buller had received a despatch from Lord Wolseley written after the news of the fall of Khartoum had reached headquarters, but before the rescue of Wilson’s detachment had been reported at Korti. His orders were to ensure the safety of Wilson and his men; to send all sick and wounded back to Korti; to make every preparation for the evacuation of Gubat, and if he considered it necessary, to fall back to Abu Klea or even to Gakdul. When Buller reached Gubat the situation was full of difficulty. Wilson indeed was safe, but within two miles of the bivouac was the strongly built village of Metemmeh, which we had threatened but not seriously attacked. It was held by two thousand of the enemy, almost delirious with joy at their victory at Khartoum; the Intelligence officers had ascertained that three or four thousand Mahdists, well provided with rifles, guns, and ammunition would shortly reinforce Metemmeh, and as there was nothing now to detain the Mahdi before Khartoum, his main army might also have to be reckoned with. The supplies of the desert column were running short: at Gubat there were only rations for twelve days, and the depôt at Abu Klea contained but a similar quantity. Worse than all, the transport was breaking down rapidly; “the camels,” Buller reported, “are emaciated, and their carrying power small. Indeed I do not think we have camels enough to get this force out at one go.” After a few hours’ deliberation he reluctantly decided to retire, and began his preparations, fortunately unhindered by the enemy who circled round the bivouac without attempting to close in upon it. Early on the morning of the 13th of February the sick and wounded were sent off, the convalescents on camels, the worst cases on stretchers carried by Gordon’s Soudanese. The convoy was escorted by part of the camel corps and three companies of the Royal Irish, and when all danger of an attack seemed over, the detachment was ordered to rejoin the main body of the battalion. Just as the three companies reached the bivouac a Hussar orderly dashed into the lines to report that eight or nine miles off the convoy was surrounded by a large number of the enemy, and was in great peril. Colonel Shaw and half a battalion of the XVIIIth hurried off to the rescue, but to their deep disgust did not come into action. The Mahdists had surrounded the convoy on three sides and were pouring in a fairly well directed fire when a detachment of camelry, on the way from Abu Klea to Gubat, suddenly struck the enemy on the flank just as the Royal Irish began to come in sight. The Arabs did not await Shaw’s attack and retired, leaving the convoy free to go on to Abu Klea, which it reached without further incident. Shaw’s half battalion did not accompany the sick, but was ordered back to Gubat, where the troops spent the night in destroying stores which could not be carried away and throwing into the Nile boxes of ammunition for which there was no transport. As day broke on the 14th, the column, 1700 strong, was set in motion. With the exception of a few of the XIXth Hussars whose horses were still serviceable, all arms and all ranks trudged over the desert on foot. The post of honour, the command of the rear-guard, was entrusted to Colonel Shaw, who covered the retreat with the Royal Irish, two guns, a detachment of the XIXth Hussars, and three hundred of Gordon’s Soudanese. A few of the enemy followed, but when Buller halted and offered battle the Mahdists drew off, and by midday on the 15th the column was in bivouac at Abu Klea. The men had not suffered much on the march, though the boots were beginning to fall off their feet, but so many animals had dropped from exhaustion that General Buller was forced to admit that any active operations were entirely out of the question, until the mounted corps were supplied with fresh camels, the transport camels replaced, and the XIXth Hussars completely remounted. There was not forage enough for the surviving animals, and it was evident that the wells could not be relied upon to supply the whole of the troops now concentrated around them. Buller accordingly decided to send back to Gakdul most of the camelry, all spare camels, and nearly all the XIXth Hussars, while with the remainder of his command he awaited instructions at Abu Klea.

The two companies of the XVIIIth detached to garrison the post of Abu Klea now rejoined headquarters, bringing with them a record of excellent service performed in clearing the bush which surrounded the wells, building _zaribas_, and similar useful though unshowy work. Early on the 16th, the battalion was directed to entrench one of the low hills which encircle the wells; just as the shelter trenches were finished and occupied, and the men were eating a well-earned meal, large numbers of the enemy appeared on ground commanding the defences of the Royal Irish, and opened fire at about 1100 yards’ range. To meet this attack, which enfiladed some of the trenches, fresh works had to be thrown up under continuous and sometimes very heavy musketry. “The Gardner and the screw-guns gave the enemy a little physic,” wrote an officer in his diary, “but the rebels kept it up all night, and we expected an attack at any time. Next morning they began in a desultory sort of way, but a few shells and a strong infantry fire made them lie close. Finally a field-piece of theirs came into action, but its shells fell short and dead. Two of our 7-pounders went out and fired a round or two, and the Mahdists then disappeared. We had an easy night on the 17th, and only regretted two things: one that we had not had a slap at them, the other that we had not received the half pound of bread that was due to us as a ration!” During this prolonged skirmish, in which there were many “close shaves” from the flat-trajectoried Remington rifles used by the enemy, Quartermaster and Honorary Lieutenant Jamieson and thirteen other ranks were wounded.[263] In the column the total casualties were three men killed, four officers and twenty-three other ranks wounded. For the next few days the regiment was very busy cutting down scrub and building redoubts--work with which the enemy’s fire did not materially interfere, as it was delivered from a very respectful distance.

When the untoward news of the fall of Khartoum reached England, the country was profoundly moved. A great cry for vengeance arose, and amidst a whirlwind of telegrams from the Cabinet, Lord Wolseley recast his plans, and proposed that the towns of Abu Hamed and Berber should be captured, and held during the summer as posts to cover an advance in strength up the river in the cool season. Government accepted the idea, and sent an expedition to Suakim to draw off to the shores of the Red Sea part of the enemy who might otherwise attack the troops echeloned along the Nile. But by the middle of February it become evident that Wolseley’s scheme was too ambitious. The river column, though successful in an engagement at Kirbekan, was making slow progress up stream owing to the abnormally “low Nile.” To enable this column to arrive at Berber with its cargo of stores intact, the original plan had provided that it should be fed by convoys across the desert of Korosko, but recent events at Khartoum had roused the fanaticism of the tribesmen to such an extent that it was very improbable this route would long remain open. A large quantity of Earle’s biscuit had proved uneatable; the remainder would only carry the column to Berber and back to Korti, and therefore none could be left to ration the garrison of Berber when that place had been taken. Wolseley thereupon proposed that the Royal Irish and part of the camel corps should strike across the Bayuda desert and fall upon Berber from the westward, but he was forced to abandon this idea when he realised that the transport, without which it was impossible to undertake the expedition to Berber, had completely given out, and that the marching power of the troops was seriously crippled by the condition of their boots.

“In view of all these conditions the Commander-in-Chief felt that he was no longer justified in persevering with the combined movement of the Desert and River columns on Berber, and he was forced, reluctantly, to abandon all hope of taking that place before the autumn. The intention to take Berber being given up, the capture of Abu Hamed became unnecessary; it would only have led to a useless waste of life, and have unnecessarily prolonged the line of river to be defended during the summer months. The retention of the Desert column in its exposed position in the desert was equally without object. A concentration on the Nile became the only course open to Lord Wolseley. Orders were accordingly sent on the 20th February, directing the river column to return ... and at the same time Sir Redvers Buller was directed to return to Korti.”[264]

In obedience to this order the one thousand seven hundred and forty effectives,[265] left to General Buller, made ready to march on the evening of the 23rd of February after an exciting day. About 11 A.M. Captain Morgan, Royal Irish Regiment, from his outpost to the south-east of the bivouac had signalled that masses of the enemy were advancing towards Abu Klea. Later it was reported that the Mahdists, between five and eight thousand strong, had halted two or three miles from the wells. The situation was a serious one, but neither the General nor his men were disturbed at the news: the packing was carefully finished, the convoy of wounded sent off under a strong escort, the wells filled up with thorny scrub and the many saddles for which there were no camels left, and soon after sunset the troops filed away in good order, leaving the Royal Irish to bring up the rear. The camp fires were made up, the usual bugle calls were sounded, and then in groups of twos and threes the men of the XVIIIth silently collected at the appointed place and were formed into a rear-guard. Whether the evacuation of the wells was unnoticed by the enemy, or whether the Mahdists thought it wiser not to attack the retiring column, is not known, but the fact remains that Buller was not seriously molested in his retreat, of which Major-General Burton Forster’s diary gives interesting details. “During the night of the 23rd-24th many camels fell down and were left behind. Halts were numerous, and we had a very hard and awkward march in the dim moonlight through the grass and scrub till 11.30 P.M. The _rouse_ sounded at 4 A.M. (24th) and we started at 5, having come about 9 miles from Abu Klea. We marched till about 9.30, seeing only a few of the enemy’s scouts in the afternoon, and halted about 18 miles from Abu Klea. The vedettes fired at them and they disappeared. We started again at 5 P.M., and marched on till midnight, rested on the 25th till 5 P.M., when we started again, halting at 9.30 P.M. after doing 13 miles. Next morning we started at 6 A.M. and reached Gakdul about noon.... The work has been stiff and hot, especially on a daily ration of three-quarters of a gallon of water!... I think the march of 56 miles in 64 hours is very creditable to Buller’s column.... The men have been in their clothes without changing or washing from the 16th to the 26th, and it has told on them: they are not as fit about the feet as we could wish. Some of the officers succeeded in changing their socks once during the ten days, and were more comfortable in consequence.”

An interesting account of the retreat is given in a letter written from Gakdul on February 27, 1885, by Colonel B. J. C. Doran, C.B., then a subaltern in the first battalion, Royal Irish regiment.

“You will see by the address that we have commenced retracing our steps towards Korti, we arrived here yesterday morning and very thankful we all were to get in. The march back has been so far anything but comfortable, and our march going up was child’s play compared with this retreat, for of course then the regiment was by itself in two detachments and could consequently move pretty quickly having only a small amount of transport to hamper it, but marching with the ‘Desert Column’ as it is called, is quite another thing, besides having a large Hospital of sick and wounded to take care of. We left Abu Klea on the 23rd in two parties; the first consisting of the Hospitals and the whole of the baggage, rations, &c., for the column escorted by some mounted infantry started at 2 P.M. I went with this lot, as I am acting Quartermaster now to the regiment. The second party consisted of all the troops and did not start till 7 P.M.: they had no baggage or transport to hinder them, so of course when they started were able to catch us up, as they did about 8 or 9 miles out of Abu Klea where we halted and where a depôt of water had been left; they got in about 1 A.M. We started off again at daylight and marched till about 10 A.M., when the whole column halted, pretty well done up; the water question all along has been a very difficult affair. We were to rest here until 4 P.M., when we were again to start off, however just as everyone had made themselves as comfortable as is possible on these occasions under a blanket to keep off the sun and were just getting a few winks of sleep, we were startled at hearing heavy firing going on in our rear; it was at some distance but the sound of cannon being fired was quite distinct, everyone was up like a shot, and orders were given to get all baggage loaded ready to move off at once. However, after half an hour’s excitement we desisted, as it was discovered to be only about two men and a boy (natives) amusing themselves--we presume to frighten us--with some gunpowder in cases. To understand the cause of all this alarm, you must know that ever since the night we were potted at the natives still hovered around Abu Klea, and we only moved out just in time. Had we stayed there another day, we should have had a good fight, for just as the column I was with was about to start, from one of the outlying posts on the neighbouring hills it was signalled down that the enemy were seen advancing from Metemmeh direction in thousands; this caused a good deal of excitement; however, after coming within about 2 miles of our advanced posts, they all halted and settled down for the night. Meanwhile the column with sick and wounded got away and were well clear of all the hills and in a fine open desert by the time it was dark, and where we halted, as I said before, we were joined by all the remainder of the garrison that night, they having sneaked out under cover of the dusk. All the wells we filled up and left fires burning so as to deceive the enemy. I don’t suppose they found out we had gone until next morning, and then pretty late, as they would not have approached the place except very cautiously. It was a very nasty place to get out of, as for about six miles the road or track runs in a valley with commanding hills on both sides, and had the enemy made any attempt to hold the ground at the head, where it emerges into the desert, very few of us would have got out without scratches. Once in the desert we did not mind how many came on us, so now you can understand the commotion caused by the firing of cannon, as we thought they must have found out and were following us. This of course was almost impossible, as where they were encamped they had only one or two wells which they must have dug, and they must have wanted water, as they could not have got any since they left the river at Metemmeh, and it would have taken them quite a day to clear out the wells we had filled in at Abu Klea. In the first 24 hours after leaving Abu Klea we had done about 30 miles, not bad going for a column on an allowance of water, in the desert in fact. Everyone had to walk, except the sick and wounded, because all the camels belonging to the camel corps and mounted infantry had to be used for transport and baggage animals. There were only just sufficient to bring us away, and nearly all of them were completely played out before they commenced the march. However, we struggled on somehow, and arrived here more dead than alive. Thank goodness we are getting a day’s rest here, which will enable the men to pull themselves together, get some decent food and plenty of water to drink, and that good. If I had been told a month ago that I should drink as filthy water as I have done, day after day, and been very thankful to get it, I should have laughed! The thickness of pea-soup was considered _good_: sometimes, if it was thicker, then it might be a little bad, but not to be thrown away. Considering all things, the desert march has been _the_ most trying thing known in a campaign for years. By the time we arrive at Korti, we shall have been away five weeks or more. We shall not have so many difficulties to contend with henceforward, as the next half will be much easier and I doubt the enemy following us beyond this. Everything about movements is kept a State secret here, and we don’t know what is going to happen, except we move out of this to-morrow or next day--they say to Merawi, to help the column gone up the River, but I have my own idea that we are going straight to Korti, though the Colonel told the officers on parade yesterday that after a day’s rest here, we were to move towards Merawi. It will be getting very hot here soon, and if we are to summer out here, it would be advisable to try and build ourselves some sort of shelter. However, I suppose when we get to Korti we shall probably then know what government has settled to do about the Soudan. I am sure if they only saw it, they would have no desire ever to keep such a country!”

At Gakdul the Royal Irish had a comparatively pleasant rest. A quantity of stores had recently arrived from Korti, and as there was no means of carrying them back, the Commissariat distributed them among the troops, who were regaled on jam, cheese, fresh bread, fresh meat, vegetables, and other long-forgotten delicacies. The men had time to change their clothes, there was enough water for washing, and better than all, a great budget of letters from home awaited the regiment. Some of the units of the column started at once for Korti, but it was not until the 2nd of March that the battalion was warned to start next day, an order which was very welcome, for the wells had begun to give out, and “the water had become filled with living animals, smelt, and was as fit to drink as a dirty duck pool!” From the 5th to the 8th the Royal Irish halted at the wells of Megara, where a successful foray of desert robbers upon the slaughter cattle considerably reduced their rations of meat. Then they once more pushed northward, this time in detachments, the last of which reached Korti on the 14th. As Lord Wolseley rode out to welcome them he saw men whom a civilian would have derided as tramps and scarecrows, but in whom a soldier’s eye recognised troops of the finest quality. Their uniforms hung in rags, patched where patching was possible with any material that had come to hand. Their boots were a nightmare. Their skins were the colour of mahogany, their faces seamed with the lines which hunger and thirst, exposure to heat and cold, want of sleep, and prolonged exertion stamp upon every soldier in a campaign. Their stern eyes, their hard-set mouths, their steady march and proud carriage all showed that their spirit and discipline were as high as ever, and that the great fatigues of their marches in the desert had in no way impaired the efficiency of the Royal Irish. On the 16th Lord Wolseley inspected the battalion, warmly thanked all ranks for the work they had done, and informed them that General Buller had reported on them in the most favourable terms.

Among those who had done much towards keeping the _morale_ of the XVIIIth at the high standard maintained throughout the Nile campaign was the Roman Catholic chaplain, the Reverend Father Brindle, D.S.O., now Bishop of Nottingham, whose name even now is one to conjure with in the Royal Irish regiment. After serving with the second battalion in the war of 1882, he accompanied the first battalion throughout the whole of the expedition up the Nile. His genial personality, his devotion to duty, his coolness in danger, his indifference to hardship, combined to give him a remarkable influence over the men, which he exerted invariably in the highest interests of the Service.

The Royal Irish thoroughly enjoyed the comparative civilisation of the headquarters camp. They were once more under canvas; they had an inexhaustible supply of water; and they feasted their eyes, weary from the glare of the Bayuda desert, upon the palms and acacias growing on the narrow strip of cultivation which fringes both banks of the Nile. But they were not allowed to rest there long. When the rear-guard of the desert column returned to Korti, the British government were still determined to avenge Gordon and to crush the Mahdi’s power at Khartoum; and Lord Wolseley arranged to concentrate the expeditionary force for the summer in cantonments along the Nile near Korti. The XVIIIth was assigned to a movable column, commanded by Brigadier-General Brackenbury, whose headquarters were at Debbeh, with detachments in the neighbouring villages, one of which, Kurot, was occupied by the Royal Irish, where they settled down, as they thought for many months. Some of their huts were made of logs, grass mats, and similar materials, bought from the natives and issued to the troops; others were built of bricks, made out of the soil on the banks of the river and dried in the sun. “The battalion,” writes an officer who was present, “excelled at making the moulds for these bricks, and a sergeant, Kelly, was the crack moulder.” The want of straw, however, proved as serious a hindrance to the brick-making of Wolseley’s troops as to the Israelites of old, for many thousand bricks cracked and were wasted. But only a fortnight after the last unit had reached its allotted post, Wolseley was warned by the Cabinet that owing to the possibility of England being embroiled in war elsewhere, the expedition to Khartoum might be abandoned, and on the 11th of May he received orders to withdraw from the Soudan. He obeyed; but as the General-in-Chief in Egypt, who had been studying the local situation for many months, he strongly protested against the new policy, pointing out that if we retreated the Mahdi’s power would greatly increase, and that the British government would not only have to reinforce the garrison of Egypt, but to fight for the protection of that country. The difficulty of carrying out the evacuation was greatly increased by the necessity of bringing back about thirteen thousand natives, who, having thrown in their lot with us, could not be abandoned to the tender mercies of the Mahdists; but by dint of careful organisation and hard work the task was accomplished. General Brackenbury’s command started on the 1st of June in whale-boats for Abu Fatmeh, where three hundred men of the XVIIIth, under Lieutenant-Colonel Wray, were landed, and after marching some distance down the Nile rejoined the remainder of the battalion. Though the difficulties were light compared to those of the upward voyage, they were by no means insignificant, for the _voyageurs_ had gone back to Canada, and the Royal Irish, who acted as rear and baggage guard to the column, had much work in towing and mending whale-boats, wrecked or damaged in shooting the rapids. When the battalion reached Alexandria, it was joined by a strong draft: a hundred and seventy-nine non-commissioned officers and men from the second battalion at Malta had landed in January, of whom fifty-eight had been fortunate enough to be sent to Suakim, where they served as mounted infantry in the eastern Soudan. Thus by a curious chance the Royal Irish were represented in the campaign of 1884-85 not only on the Nile, but also on the shores of the Red Sea, where a young officer of the regiment, Lieutenant D. G. Gregorie, who had already greatly distinguished himself while serving in the Egyptian army, was awarded the fourth class of the order of the Osmanieh.

As a matter of historical interest it may be mentioned that Lord Wolseley’s predictions proved singularly correct. Within six months of our withdrawal from Dongola a large body of the enemy attempted the invasion of Egypt, besieged for forty days a fort held by British troops, and did not retire southwards until on December 30, 1885, they had been defeated at the battle of Ginniss. To meet this incursion it was found necessary to hurry nearly seven thousand British troops up the Nile, and to increase the garrison of Lower Egypt by about three thousand men.

In despatches Lord Wolseley mentioned the following officers of the Royal Irish: Lieutenant-Colonel Shaw, V.C.; Captain Guinness, and Lieutenant B. J. C. Doran. Lieutenant-Colonel Shaw was awarded the C.B.; Captain Guinness was promoted to a Brevet-Majority, and Lieutenant B. J. C. Doran was noted for a Brevet-Majority on his attaining the rank of Captain. The Egyptian medal and clasp for the Nile, 1884-85, and the Khedive’s Star were issued to all ranks. In 1886, the regiment was permitted to add to its battle honours the words, “Nile 1884-5,” in commemoration of the ascent of the River and the operations in the Bayuda desert.

The first battalion, Royal Irish regiment embarked at Alexandria on August 24, 1885, in the s.s. _Stirling Castle_, and arrived at Plymouth on September 9.