The History of Lumsden's Horse. Various

from all classes and abundant proofs of appreciation and care for their welfare by the Government of India. It has already been said that his Excellency Lord Curzon accepted readily the rank of Honorary Colonel of the corps, while both he and Lady Curzon took every possible opportunity of identifying themselves with a force in which they continued to show the liveliest personal interest throughout its career of active service. Sir William Lockhart, then Commander-in-Chief, was lying in Fort William, Calcutta, dangerously ill of the malady from which he died not long afterwards, and was therefore unable to see the corps, but he sent to Colonel Lumsden and the executive committee several messages of kindly encouragement. The contingent was inspected on its parade-ground by General Leach, C.B., commanding the troops in the Presidency District. Sir John Woodburn, Lieutenant-Governor of Bengal and Honorary Colonel of the Behar Light Horse, also paid an official visit to Colonel Lumsden and made a farewell speech to the corps on parade the Sunday before its first company embarked.

      Photo: F. Kapp & Co. TAKING HORSES ON BOARD TRANSPORT 28 A Company

      Orders for the front had come at last, but one of the transports had not. So it was necessary for Lumsden’s Horse to go off in detachments. The ‘Lindula’ was alongside the wharves in Kidderpore Docks, but she had no room to spare for more than a hundred and fifty troopers, with their officers and the necessary number of horses. Colonel Lumsden and the headquarters were to go in her with A Company and the Maxim Gun detachment, leaving B Company still camped on the Maidan, where Major Showers would take over the command. Delays and alterations of dates with regard to troopships, for which nobody in India was responsible, would have been still more serious but for the resourceful energy of Captain Goodridge, R.N., Director-General of Marine to the Government of India, and Captain Gwynne, R.N., the executive transport officer at Calcutta, who did all in their power to expedite matters and to meet the wishes of Colonel Lumsden, whose one anxiety was for the comfort and well-being of his men on the voyage.

      Before daybreak on Monday, January 26, 1900, bugles were sounding the reveillé for A Company, and from that moment its camp was a scene of liveliest activity. Though the men whose turn to embark might not come for a week or two longer went about their ordinary duties with assumed unconcern, they cast many wistful glances at the busy preparations of their envied comrades. Life in Calcutta had been pleasant enough to make parting ‘such sweet sorrow’ for many that they would fain have prolonged it at the last, but none gave a thought to such things in the dawn of the day so long desired. For them all, South Africa was then the goal of hope, and naturally the troops to go first were deemed most fortunate. An old campaigner might have told them of the days to come, when, in the weariness of a realisation more hollow than their dreams, they would be haunted by the music of that last waltz in Calcutta, and longing to hear once more the rustle of palm fronds under soft Indian skies, to breathe the sweet fragrance of oleanders and roses. These thoughts, however, were unspoken, and if anybody had ventured to hint at them he would have been rightly scouted as a sickly sentimentalist by Lumsden’s Horse, who were going forth to do the work of men. Yes; but somehow they were not all adamant when they heard the cheers of thousands greeting them as they marched through streets crowded with Europeans and natives. The service company, in full campaigning kit, took the lead, proudly conscious that all this was meant as an enthusiastic farewell to them and for the gallant Colonel at their head; and B Company followed, wearing simple drill order, with becoming modesty. An escort of ladies and gentlemen on horseback accompanied the marching contingent. So uncontrollable did the excitement of spectators become that they broke in upon and mingled with the ranks, a confused mass from which it was difficult for Lumsden’s Horse to disentangle themselves and pass in any semblance of military formation through the dock gates, within which they dismounted. Embarkation of their horses would in ordinary circumstances have occupied a whole day if the slow system of hoisting by slings had been adhered to. Major Taylor, however, suggested the use of zig-zag gangways, ascending by easy inclines stage above stage. To this arrangement the broad wharves of Kidderpore Docks were admirably adapted. Captain Gwynne, with a seaman’s ready appreciation of common-sense proposals, consented to this departure from former methods. The gangways were rigged accordingly, and so the horses walked quietly up the slopes to their berths on different decks instead of being slung on board in the barbarous old fashion. The whole operation thus took an hour instead of a day, and not a single horse was injured or had its temper upset. While horses were being got on board the companies drew up to await the Viceroy’s coming, where burning sunlight fell full on the white helmets that were not to be worn again for many a day. All their march from the Maidan had been like a triumphal procession, to the accompaniment of cheers and waving handkerchiefs; but a scene even more inspiring awaited them at the docks, where a great crowd had assembled, making the grimy wharves bright with the colours of dainty costumes. People lined the parapets of surrounding houses in masses uncomfortably dense, and a multitude thronged the jetty, alongside which the transport ‘Lindula’ lay waiting to receive her full complement of troops. Enclosures reserved for favoured spectators were filled to overflowing, and at least 2,000 of the number assembled there had to stand, the 3,000 chairs being mostly occupied by ladies.

      Photo: F. Kapp & Co. EMBARKATION AT CALCUTTA Kidderpore Docks, February 26, 1900

      Judges of the High Courts and senior officials of all departments were present. Lumsden’s Horse lined one side of a great quadrangle facing the flower-fringed daïs from which Lord Curzon was to deliver his farewell speech. Behind them, stretching from end to end of the line, were gay streamers bearing the time-honoured mottoes that served to inspire Roman legions when they set out in galleys to conquer the world. ‘Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori’ and ‘Fortes fortuna juvat’ are sentiments that have happily not lost their meaning or their power to influence the actions of men even in our unromantic age. The crowds had gathered there to bid ‘God speed’ to the first contingent of Volunteers that had ever left India to fight for their Queen and country. And each unit of that assemblage seemed eager to do or say something that might emphasise the heartiness of the farewell. So general and earnest was this desire that the police had great difficulty to keep the pressing spectators within bounds.

      On arrival at the dock gates, their Excellencies the Viceroy and Lady Curzon were met by his Honour the Lieutenant-Governor and officers in attendance, who conducted them to the Viceregal platform, above which the royal standard was hoisted. Lord Curzon then inspected the ranks of Lumsden’s Horse, chatting with their Colonel the while. This inspection over, his Excellency returned to the daïs, and, in a voice that carried far among the silently attentive spectators, addressed the corps in these words:

      Colonel Lumsden, Officers, Non-Commissioned Officers, and men of Lumsden’s Light Horse: In bidding you good-bye this afternoon, I feel that I may claim to speak for others besides myself. I do not appear here merely as the Honorary Colonel of your corps, proud as I am to fill that position. Nor am I merely the spokesman of the citizens of Calcutta, European and Native, among whom you have spent the past few weeks, and who desire to wish you all success in your patriotic enterprise. I feel that I am more than that, and that I may consider myself the mouthpiece of public opinion throughout India, which has watched the formation of this corps with admiration, which has contributed to its equipment and comfort with no illiberal hand, and which now sends you forth with an almost parental interest in your fortunes. At a time when the stress of a common anxiety has revealed to the British Empire its almost unsuspected unity, and its illimitable resources in loyalty and men, it would have been disappointing to all of us if India had lagged behind—India which, even if it is only peopled by a small minority of our own race, is yet the noblest field of British activity and energy and devotion that the world can show. Already the British regiments that we have sent from this country have helped to save Natal, and many a brave native follower has borne his part in the struggle. But as soon as the electric call for volunteer help to the mother land ran round, India responded to the summons. She has given us from the small civil population of British birth the 250 gallant men whom I am now addressing, and she would have given us as many more as Government would have been prepared to accept. I doubt not that had we been willing to enrol 1,000 instead of 250, they would have