Part 3 (1/2)

His life is such a coming and going that he would be unhappy unless you closed every evening meeting with at least one verse, and on these occasions, when no one knows whether it will be in earth or heaven that he will meet his comrade next, it is, of course, impossible to close without it. And so night by night before each regiment takes its departure some one starts 494. By-and-by, as the train steams out of the station, it will be 'Auld Lang Syne,' but these are Christian men, and they are parting from Christian men, and so often with hands clasped and not without tears they sing,--

'G.o.d be with you till we meet again, Keep love's banner floating o'er you, Smite death's threatening wave before you, G.o.d be with you till we meet again.'

They will not forget it, these soldier lads, and as they pa.s.s one another on their long marches across the veldt, unable to do more than shout a greeting to some old friend, it will be 494; and as with rapid tread they advance to charge some almost impregnable defence, they will shout to one another--these Christian soldiers--494, 'G.o.d be with you till we meet again!'

=Off to the Front.=

What stirring times those were! What singing in the barrack rooms at night! What excitement in the streets of the town, yes, and what drunkenness too, making it necessary now and then to confine a regiment to barracks the night before departure. And then the march to the station, often in the small hours of the morning, the rush at the last with some would-be deserter just caught in time, the enthusiasm of the men, the cheering of the crowd, the singing of 'Auld Lang Syne' and 'G.o.d Save the Queen.' And then away goes the train, heads out of every carriage, handkerchiefs waving, l.u.s.ty voices cheering, shouting, singing. G.o.d bless you, our soldier lads!

But what mean these little knots of women and children gazing wistfully after the train? What mean these sobs, these tears, this heart-break?

Ah! this is another side to the picture. They have said good-bye, and they know that _all_ of these lads will not return, and that some of those left behind are left desolate for life. G.o.d help them, our British soldiers--aye, and G.o.d help those they have left behind them!

[Ill.u.s.tration: OFF TO SOUTH AFRICA.]

=Mr. Lowry Ordered South.=

Let us glance at just one scene more before we say good-bye to old Aldershot and follow our soldier lads on their journey South. It is the farewell of one of the best-loved of Aldershot chaplains--the Rev. E.P.

Lowry, senior Wesleyan chaplain. For seven years he has ministered with rare success to our troops; his name is a household word among them, they love him as they love few, and he loves them one and all. And now he too is ordered South. He is fifty-six years old, and has done no campaigning heretofore. It is, therefore, no light task he has before him, and though he has many advantages and is known to so many, yet he is quite aware he must rough it with the rest, and is prepared to undergo all hards.h.i.+ps with his men.

It is a raw, biting morning, and the piercing wind makes the khaki uniforms that flit here and there look altogether unseasonable. On the other side of the station is Rev. Father Ryan, the Roman Catholic chaplain, in khaki uniform and helmet, looking a soldier every inch of him,--a good man, too, and a gentleman, as we Aldershot folks know well.

But on this platform what a crowd there is! Men and women, old and young, soldiers and civilians, have all come to say good-bye to one man, and he moves in and out among the people saying a kindly word here and giving a handshake there. There are not many for South Africa by this train. The men left hours ago, and only a few officers who had no need to travel with their men are going down. A young lad here, the son of a Christian man, is going out hoping to get an appointment in some South African volunteer regiment, and his comrades of the Fire Brigade are here to say 'good-bye.' But the rest of us are all crowding round our best-loved padre to say G.o.d-speed.

It is a scene that will live with us for many years. See, they are running along the platform as the train steams out. 494 they shout, and bravely and with smiling face he calls out in return 494, and off they go, he to the work of his life, and we to the more humdrum but perhaps not less necessary work of the hour.

Chapter III

OLD ENGLAND ON THE SEA

A cheer from the distant crowds, an increased involuntary bustle on board s.h.i.+p, and then train load after train load of troops detrained alongside the s.h.i.+p that was to be their home for the next three weeks.

Up and up the gangways they went in long continuous lines, hour after hour, a procession that seemed as though it would never stop. At last all are on board, and the bell rings for visitors to go ash.o.r.e. The troops crowd the bulwarks of the s.h.i.+p, they climb the rigging, many of them like sailors. They seize every vantage point from which they can wave a long farewell to those they are leaving behind them, and then some one with a cornet strikes up 'Soldiers of the Queen' and 'Rule Britannia,' and fifteen hundred voices echoed by those on sh.o.r.e join in the patriotic songs. At last all is ready and the moorings are cast off.

'One song more, my lads'; it is 'Shall auld acquaintance be forgot?' and there with the good s.h.i.+p already moving from the dock they sing it, while handkerchiefs are vigorously waved and hearty cheers rend the air, and not a few tears are shed. And so amidst excitement and sorrow, laughter and tears, the good s.h.i.+p drops down the Southampton Water, past Netley Hospital--soon to receive many of them back--and Calshott Castle, past the Needles and out into the open Channel, and fifteen hundred fighting men are on their way to South Africa.

=A New Feat in Britain's History.=

Week after week this was the programme. It only varied in that the s.h.i.+p was different, and the men were of different regiments and different names. Until at last the t.i.tle of this chapter had become an actual fact, and Old England, in a sense truer than ever before, was upon the sea. For it was not _young_ England simply that was there. The fathers of our land--our greatest and our wisest generals, the most seasoned of our veterans, were there also. And there was hardly a family at home but had some representative, or at any rate some near or dear friend upon the sea.

Never had such a thing as this been _attempted_ before in the history of the world. Other great expeditions had been fitted out and despatched, for instance, the great Armada which was beaten and dispersed by our Hearts of Oak and broken to pieces upon our Scottish rocks. But for nearly 150,000 men to be dispatched 7,000 miles by sea, and not a man be lost by s.h.i.+pwreck, is something over which old England may well be proud, and for which it should bow in hearty thanksgiving to G.o.d.

The men these s.h.i.+ps were carrying were _new_ men. Some of them certainly were of the old type--drinking, swearing, impure--though for three weeks, at any rate, every man of them was perforce a teetotaler, and did not suffer in consequence! But our army has been recruited in days past from our Sunday Schools with blessed consequences, and on board every s.h.i.+p there were men whose first concern was to find a spot where, with congenial souls, they could meet and pray.

All sorts of places were found. The Rev. E.P. Lowry, for instance, managed to get the use of the Lunatic Ward, and there the men met and prayed, caring nothing for the nickname of 'lunatic' freely bestowed throughout the voyage.

=Religious Work on a Troops.h.i.+p.=

The following letter from Colour-Sergeant J.H. Pearce, culled from the _Methodist Times_, gives us a specimen of the work done by the soldiers themselves upon these troops.h.i.+ps, work that commenced as soon as the s.h.i.+p left dock, and continued to the end of the voyage. It is dated--