A Soldier of the Legion / An Englishman's Adventures Under the French Flag in Algeria and Tonquin

A SOLDIER OF THE LEGION

NATIVE WOMAN CARRIER.
Frontispiece.

A SOLDIER
OF THE LEGION

AN ENGLISHMAN'S ADVENTURES UNDER
THE FRENCH FLAG IN ALGERIA
AND TONQUIN

BY GEORGE MANINGTON

Edited by
WILLIAM B. SLATER and ARTHUR J. SARL

WITH MAP AND ILLUSTRATIONS

LONDON
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET
1907

TO THE MEMORY
OF MY COMRADES WHO FELL IN THE FORESTS OF
YEN-THÉ AND THE JUNGLES OF KAI-KINH,
THIS WORK IS DEDICATED

PREFACE

Sitting at the terrace of a well-known café, on the main boulevard of the French capital, some time ago, I happened to glance down the columns of a Parisian newspaper, and was struck by a realistic account of the recent combat at El-Moungar.

After describing this action,—a long, arduous, but successful defence of a convoy of arms and ammunition by a handful of men from the Foreign Legion against the repeated attacks of more than a thousand fanatical Moorish horsemen,—the journalist expressed his admiration for the courage and disinterested devotion of which this corps has so often given proof.

The final phrase of his article can well serve as an excuse for, and introduction to, the present volume:—Si quelque philosophe ouvrait un jour une chaire pour enseigner l'heroïsme et le dévouement, son cours pourrait se tenir tout entier dans la lecture des citations obtenues par la Légion Étrangère.

G.M.
HONG-KONG.

EDITORS' NOTE

The restless spirit of adventure which prompted the author, Mr George Manington, to enlist in the French Foreign Legion, at a later date called him post haste from London, and thus caused us, his friends, to promise to see the manuscript of "A Soldier of the Legion" through the press.

Though well under forty years of age, he had been a student in France and Germany, a prospective doctor in Paris, a soldier in Algeria and Tonquin, a man of commerce in Indo-China, an interpreter, traveller, and journalist in South China, besides a participator in more fleeting occupations in many lands, including Japan and the Philippines.

It was in the restful periods between these various enterprises that this book was written. Malaria and kindred ailments, contracted during his military service in Tonquin, hampered him from time to time, and while he was recuperating in England from an attack, "A Soldier of the Legion" made most progress. Presently a journalistic offer came from Hong-Kong, and the prospect it afforded of more adventurous missions in the remoter regions of the Far East proved irresistible. He accepted by cable, called upon us to deal with the manuscript, and within a few days was mailing further sections of the book from ports "somewhere east of Suez."

We have dealt as lightly as possible with the manuscript, for it is permeated with the brave and cheery spirit of the author, and, beyond giving an eye to the connection of the narrative as the various sections came to hand, our duties have been light.

An educated gentleman, Mr Manington has given an insight into the unusual experiences of an Englishman in the French Foreign Legion, such as no ordinary "mercenary" could have done. Most of the narrative deals with Tonquin, and the fighting there against the rebels in their forest fastnesses. Incidentally, in giving an account of his friendship for the native sergeant, Doy-Tho, the author has been able to impart to the pages of the book an Oriental atmosphere that we think will prove attractive to the reader.

Acknowledgment is due to his friend, M. Cézard, who is fully acquainted with the ground covered, both as a public servant of France and as an accomplished artist, for the illustrations which appear in this volume; also to General Frey and Messrs Hachette, the author and publishers of a military work on Tonquin, for permission to reproduce the map and plans of forts, in relation to the events spoken of in the description of the author's service under the Tricolor. The map was prepared by the officers of the topographical section of the French army in Tonquin, and gives a detailed outline of the country in which most of the experiences described by "A Soldier of the Legion" took place.

W.B.S.
A.J.S.
London, June 1907.

CONTENTS

LIST OF MAPS AND ILLUSTRATIONS

A SOLDIER OF THE LEGION

[CHAPTER I]

The Ministère de la Guerre—The recruiting office—Would-be warriors—The Commandant—A repulse—Enlisted—Something about the Legion—Marseilles—The Abd-el-Kader—Oran—Sidi-bel-Abbes—In camp—Snow in Africa—Another Briton—Instruction of recruits—An American—The 3rd Battalion—Barrack-room pranks—Route-marching.

Most Englishmen, whose knowledge of the gay city of Paris is in the slightest degree superior to that of the ordinary summer tripper, are acquainted with the fine red stone building on the Boulevard St Germain, which is known as the Ministère de la Guerre, therefore it is unnecessary to give a lengthy description of this imposing edifice; above all, as its connection with the present history is of the shortest. It must, however, be explained why I, on the morning of the 26th February 1890, after pushing aside a big swing-door, found myself in the vestibule of this home of the supreme direction of one of the largest standing armies in the world, whose glorious traditions began on the field of Ivry, and amongst whose galaxy of leaders figure the personalities of Condé, Turenne, Carnot, Hoche, Bonaparte, Canrobert and MacMahon.

I chanced one evening, after I had been living for the past two years in the French capital, whilst in the company of several army officers, to meet an Austrian gentleman, of old lineage and great wealth, who entertained us with the recital of his experiences during the Tonquin campaign of 1883-85. Owing to an affaire de cœur, he had enlisted in the Foreign Legion, had risen to the rank of sergeant-major, was twice wounded, and had been decorated with the médaille militaire for bravery in action.

This narrative so excited my imagination and desire for adventure that I fell into slumber that night only after having decided on taking a similar course, in the hope of warring in strange lands and seeing life out of the rut.

I should here say, before going further, that owing to the action so suddenly decided upon, I was often in the future to undergo suffering and privation; yet never once during the five years of my service did I regret the step taken and wish it retraced.

The next morning I put my project into execution, and, as aforesaid, went to the fountain-head for information. Perhaps the officials may have had serious doubts as to whether I was in my right mind; and there was some excuse for them, for it is not every day that an individual comes to the Ministère, and in a matter-of-fact manner asks to enlist, in just such a way as one might ask for a room at an hotel. Whatever their thoughts may have been, they were exceedingly obliging, and informed me that I must go to the Rue St Dominique, the central recruiting office, and obtain all the necessary information.

Somewhat disappointed at the delay, I started off at once for the destination they had indicated to me, which is near to the famous Hôtel des Invalides, and half an hour later found myself in a room which bore a strong resemblance to the booking-office of a London railway station. There were wooden benches round three sides of it, and five wickets in the wall on the fourth. Facing the entrance and in the corner of the room was a door, on which was painted in white letters, "Bureau du Commandant de Recrutement"; and in the other corner, on the same side, was another exit, leading to the room where, as I afterwards learnt, the medical examination of future recruits took place. Upon the whitewashed walls were several notices all bearing the same heading, "République Française—Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité," and containing instructions to conscripts as to the time and place at which they must present themselves for enlistment.

It is hardly necessary to state that military service is compulsory in France. There were about thirty men in the room, some sitting alone, or in pairs, on the benches, others standing in groups. They were of all classes of society, if one could judge by their costumes, and the conversations which were going on were little above a whisper. A sort of timid expectancy seemed to reign supreme.

Little or no attention was paid to my entrance, so I had time to take things in. Espying over one of the wickets the words, "Engagements Volontaires," I walked up to it, and attracted the attention of a sergeant of the line who was in the office writing in a big ledger. When I had stated my object he stared very hard at me, and, having taken my name, told me to wait until called for.

I went over and sat on one of the benches, from which could be seen all that was going on in the room, and amused myself by examining the different types present, speculating, meanwhile, on the social status of each and the wherefore of their presence.

There were many who were mere lads, the eldest of whom could not have been more than nineteen. From scraps of their conversation which reached me it was evident that they were volunteers who came to offer their services before the time had arrived for their incorporation, which is generally between the ages of twenty and twenty-one years. They were drawn from all classes, and were attired in anything from the silk hat and blue velvet-collared sacque coat of the well-to-do bourgeois to the dark cotton blouse and casquette so popular on the boulevards extérieurs. Seated in one corner were two young men who bore the outward stamp of respectability. These, I afterwards learnt, were in quest of the medical certificate which would allow them to enter the Military Academy of St Cyr, which, like our college at Sandhurst, is a school for army officers.

My attention was next drawn to a group of six or seven individuals who were standing in a circle round one, whose rotund face and short red hair could be seen above their heads. They were all men of from twenty to thirty years of age. Several of them were neat and clean in appearance, and seemed to be of the artisan class, but there were others in a decidedly "down-at-heel" condition. The red-headed man was evidently a wit in his way, if one could judge by the smiles and low laughter which greeted his frequent sallies; and I was regretting that I could not catch the meaning of his words, being too far away for that, when by chance our eyes met; and after making his way out of the group, he came across the room, sat beside me, and opened the conversation with a polite "Bonjour, Monsieur!"—to which I responded with equal urbanity.

"Excuse me," said my interlocutor, "but you are not a Frenchman, are you?"

"No; I am an Englishman."

Then desirous, no doubt, of excusing his seeming indiscretion, he continued:

"I asked you that question because I am myself a stranger—a Swiss—and from your appearance I thought you might be here with a similar intention to my own: that of enlisting in the Foreign Legion. Am I right?"

"Yes," I answered, having no reason to conceal the object of my presence there, and, besides, the looks of the man rather pleased me. He was evidently a frank-speaking, good-tempered fellow, and his clean-shaven face and neat exterior indicated a certain respectability. I took him for an actor or a gentleman's valet. Knowing that I should be likely to meet and mix with all sorts and conditions of men in the road I had chosen, on taking my decision I had determined to accept things as they were without complaint, so long as the life would bring me new experiences which I could not hope to encounter in the ordinary stay-at-home, humdrum existence.

"Well," he continued, "it appears that we have both chosen the same route. I hope we shall be in the same regiment."

"The same regiment!" I exclaimed in surprise, "I thought there was only one Legion."

"Formerly it was so," he replied; "but that fellow over there—a German, who is going to enlist for a second time—tells me that about five years ago the old Legion was formed into two corps, which go by the name of the 1st and 2nd Régiments Étrangers."

I looked in the direction he indicated, and saw a tall man of about thirty, whose stalwart form and straight shoulders betokened the soldier. He was reading one of the bills on the walls. This information interested me immensely, and I was just thinking of how I could best approach this individual with the view of obtaining fresh details, when the door of the Commandant's office opened suddenly and a non-commissioned officer appeared, and, to my consternation, shouted out my name. Instinctively I rose and answered "Present," just as if I were answering to a call-over at school, all the other occupants of the room eyeing me curiously as I did so.

In response to a gesture from the sergeant I stepped across, entered the office, and found myself in the presence of a gentleman in the uniform of a major of the line, who was seated at a big table covered with papers and text-books. He was a red-faced man of about forty, with short-cropped grey hair and a heavy moustache of the same tint. The eyes that looked into mine had a kindly light in them, which belied the somewhat brusque manner of their owner.

I uncovered as I entered the room, and saluted him with the stereotyped "Bonjour, Monsieur!" to which he nodded a response, and, without further preamble, said:

"So you are desirous of enlisting in one of the Régiments Étrangers?"

"Yes, sir," I replied.

"Since when have you come to that decision?"

This unexpected question rather nonplussed me, but regaining my composure I answered with apparent coolness:

"Oh! since yesterday."

He smiled, and then said, to my astonishment and anger:

"Eh bien! you are a fool, my friend. Ah! that hurts you, doesn't it?" (I had flushed at his observation). "Sure proof that stern discipline would not suit you," he continued. Then in a softened and more kindly tone he rattled along so quickly that there was no chance of putting in a word:

"Sacré bleu! The Legion—why, you don't know what it is. Well, I will tell you—hard work—hard knocks—hard discipline, and no thanks. And how does it end? Your throat cut by some thieving Arab if you have luck; if not, wounded, and then his women make sausage meat of you. In Tonquin the same sort of thing—only worse, with fever and sunstroke into the bargain. A bad business! yes, a bad business!" Then his voice took quite a paternal tone, and he continued: "You look like a gentleman—you are one, I'm sure. Mind you, I don't mean to say there are not others over there—there are many—poor fellows! Your family, too!—think of them—such a sudden decision. Sapristi! and all for some trifling bêtise, sans doute. A petticoat, I'll swear—don't deny it—I have been young also—a faithless sweetheart—Pish! There are a thousand others who would be delighted to console you. No! No! A good dinner, the Moulin Rouge, and to-morrow you will be cured, sacré bleu!" He laughed, and added: "Try that; and if to-morrow you still feel the cravings for a military career, well, come and see me."

Disappointed and somewhat resentful, for at the time I did not appreciate the kindly intention which underlay the advice he had given me, and imagined that I had been treated with undue contempt and familiarity, I replied:

"To-morrow I shall return, sir!"

He laughed again good-naturedly, and said:

"Well, well, we shall see;" at which I bowed and left the room.

The outer office was silent and deserted, for it was the luncheon hour. I was annoyed at this, having counted on obtaining more information from the other men who had come to join. However, recognising the inutility of waiting there, I proceeded to my usual restaurant in a very disappointed state of mind, though in no way turned from my determination.

At an early hour the next morning I returned to the Rue St Dominique. The major, my friend of the day before, received me with many deprecatory remarks concerning my persistence; but seeing that they were evidently lost on me, he carefully perused my passport, which I had been particular to bring with me, and I was passed on to the doctor for examination. "Bon pour le service," ran the verdict given, and I was then signed on for a period of five years.

After much waiting a feuille de route, a railway requisition for Marseilles, and the sum of three francs for expenses, were given me. The sergeant-major who handed them to me was kind enough to mention that should I fail to put in an appearance at my destination within the next forty-eight hours, I would be considered a deserter, and treated as such. I left Paris that evening from the "Gare de Lyons," and arrived at Marseilles about twenty-four hours afterwards.

At this stage of my story it is right to give a short historical description of the corps in which I had enlisted, and concerning which so many errors have been written, and so many delusions exist.

The Foreign Legion first came into existence in the early 'thirties of the last century. It was composed chiefly of foreign adventurers who had flocked to Algeria at the time of the French invasion of that country. Shortly after its formation it acquired a reputation for courage and recklessness which has never been allowed to die, and of which its officers and Legionaries are proud to a fault.

Since its creation it has served with honour and distinction in nearly every campaign undertaken by France. In Algeria, the Crimea, Mexico, Tonquin, Formosa and Madagascar the Legion was to the fore. The Legionaries, led by their colonel, MacMahon, the future Marshal and President of the Republic, were the first to scale the breach and enter the city of Constantine on the 12th October, 1837, after an hour's bloody hand-to-hand conflict, during which half of their effective were blown sky-high by a mine. They shared the same honours with the Zouaves at the Malakoff under Canrobert, and the defence of Tuayen-Quang (Tonquin), by eight hundred of this corps under Commandant Dominé, during nearly four months of continual sap and assault, against an army of twelve thousand well-drilled Chinese troops, is one of the finest feats of arms in modern times. In France the blood of this fine corps has flowed like water. In the winter of 1870, when it was decided by France's generals that Orleans should be evacuated, two battalions of the Legion, which had just arrived from Africa, were entrusted with the defence of the suburbs of the town; thereby covering the retreat of the main army. During six hours they held back the Prussian forces, and were practically annihilated, for they lost seventy-five per cent. of their total strength in killed or wounded, and it was never possible for them to figure again as a corps of any importance in the campaign which followed; but they saved the Army of the Loire, for the Prussians suffered such terrible losses, and were so completely exhausted by their repeated efforts, that all immediate pursuit was out of the question.

The corps also holds a record for having had as officers men who eventually became some of the most famous commanders of modern France; MacMahon, Canrobert, Chanzy, De Négrier, Servière, and the ill-advised but brave and romantic Villebois de Mareuil were amongst the number. Originally, in addition to the many adventurers, whom military instincts, hopes of plunder, and desire for excitement had led to enlist, there were certainly a good many scallywags, perhaps criminals; but to-day there are few, if any. Police methods have changed considerably since the beginning of the last century, and a fugitive from justice would be a fool indeed if he thought he could evade punishment by joining the ranks of a "Régiment Étranger"; for by so doing he would be thrusting his head into the noose, even had he been able to procure papers affording him a change of identity to enlist with, for nearly every one at one time or another has had their photograph taken, and it is no easy matter to cheat the camera, neither is it possible to evade the searching tests of the anthropometric system.

The Legion, or rather the two Foreign Regiments of to-day, are composed of deserters from other armies—of these the Germans are in the majority—men out of work who don't wish to starve, and who can't beg; scallywags, i.e. those men who have gambled or squandered their money and can't work; officers who have been forced to resign owing to some private scandal; and the hundred other culprits and victims of the social conventions of to-day, the description of whose grievances, or the peccadilloes which brought about their presence in the corps, would require a volume in itself. Besides all these, strange as it may seem to the calm, well-balanced mind of the properly educated majority of respectable society, there is a comparatively great number of seekers after adventure who enlist, some of whom actually possess an income of their own, and are often too generous with it, for, much to the annoyance of the sergeant for the week who controls the peregrinations of the men punished with pack-drill, wine is cheap and good in Algeria. Be they what they may when they join, deserter, unemployed, ex-officer, gambler, defrocked priest, member of a reigning family (for I knew of two such during my service), taken collectively they are all Legionaries and bons camarades once under the flag, for, with but few exceptions, they possess at least one, and sometimes many good traits of character, and together they form one of the smartest and bravest infantry corps in the world.

The Legion originally possessed its own artillery and engineers, but these were abolished in the 'fifties, and it became exclusively an infantry corps. In 1885 it was formed into two regiments of four battalions each, and in 1895 the effective of each corps was increased by a battalion.

I arrived in Marseilles about nine o'clock in the evening, and having addressed myself to a non-commissioned officer who was on the platform, I was conducted by him to the depot, known as the "Incurables," and lodged for the night. This was my first experience of a military bed and barracks, and it must be confessed that I was not favourably impressed by their cleanliness, or rather their want of it. Here I met again my friend of the recruiting office, and six other volunteers for the Foreign Regiments, and learnt from him that his name was Balden, and that, like myself, he had been placed in the first of these two corps. He had arrived the day before, and told me that we should leave for Oran on the morrow by the steamer Abd-el-Kader.

The next morning, 1st March, 1890, we awoke for the first time to the note of the bugle sounding the réveil; and after a wash and brush up in the lavatory, came back to the barrack-room, where I had slept, to partake of the usual morning meal of the French soldier—a mug of sweetened black coffee and a slice of bread.

The room in which we had passed the night was, together with the furniture it contained, of the regulation type, to be met with in the barracks of most Continental armies. It was about 75 feet long, and 20 broad; there was a door in the middle of each of the longest sides, and three windows at either end. It contained twenty-four cots, six on either side of the doors. These beds consist of two iron trestles, with three pine planks laid over them. A straw mattress, a bolster, a brown blanket, and two coarse sheets complete the outfit. Along both sides of the room is a shelf upon which each French soldier arranges his neatly-folded kit, which must be placed just above the bed he is occupying. From several hooks fixed underneath the shelf, are suspended the water-bottles, belts, cartridge cases, bayonets, and canvas wallets of the men. These must, of course, be arranged in a similar and regulation manner by each one. In the middle of the room, between the two doors, is the gun-rack in which all the rifles of the occupants are placed. Between the rack and the window, at either end of the room, is a plain wooden table with benches; it is at this that the meals are taken. Just over every cot is suspended, from a nail in the edge of the shelf, a card bearing the name, number and grade of the man who occupies it. The room lodges two squads, each of which is under the orders of a corporal; the "non-coms" being responsible for the maintenance of order and cleanliness. Generally the rooms in French barracks present a very clean and smart appearance. Such was not the case with the one we slept in at Marseilles; but this can easily be accounted for by the fact that it was used by a succession of passing recruits, who possessed no kit and no knowledge of their duties, and who occupied it for two or three days at a time, or for a night only.

At nine that morning I was detailed off by a sergeant to go with another man and fetch the meal for the room. We brought it back from the cook-house in a sort of big wooden tray with a handle at each end. The repast consisted of a loaf weighing about one pound and a half—the day's ration of bread—and a tin pannikin full to the brim with stewed white beans, a piece of boiled beef and two boiled potatoes, for each recruit. I must say that the food did not appeal to me at the time, but it was good and clean, and exercise and a healthy appetite soon made it palatable.

Food in the French army varies somewhat in its composition—that is to say, lentils or rice are sometimes substituted for beans, pork or mutton for beef; but the mode of cooking was the same at each meal, and it was only on such grand occasions as the 14th July or New Year's Day that roast meat was given. This, however, only applies to the troops in France or Algeria, for those in the Colonies receive a much greater variety of diet. I have heard also, since leaving the army, that considerable change has taken place in this respect, and that some of the regiments of the line are now quite famous for their menus.

At eleven we were called down to the barrack-yard and lined up. Here we were joined by another detachment in civilian clothes; these were recruits for the French regiments in Algeria, the "Zouaves" and "Chasseurs d'Afrique." The roll was called, and we were afterwards marched down to the "Vieux Port" and embarked on the steamer before-mentioned, which proceeded to sea shortly afterwards.

We arrived in Oran about six in the evening on the following day, and were immediately conducted to the barracks, where we found a preceding detachment awaiting our arrival to proceed to the interior. Of this Algerian city I saw little or nothing on this occasion, as my stay consisted of a few hours only, and during the whole time we had to remain in the barracks.

The next morning sixteen of us left by an early train for the town of Sidi-bel-Abbes, at which is the depot of the 1st Régiment Étranger, and we arrived at our destination about five o'clock in the evening. I felt some emotion as I marched with my companions through the gates into the barrack-yard, whilst the sentry and the men on duty standing about outside the guard-room eyed us with evident curiosity; and some of the latter made audibly rude remarks concerning our unsoldierlike appearance, and the amount of licking into shape we would require. The quadrangle, which was about 100 yards long by 80 broad, was surrounded on three sides by two-storied buildings. To the right and left these consisted of barrack-rooms and companies' offices on each floor; but on the third side, facing the gate, the building contained the infirmary, canteen, store-rooms, armoury and workshops of the regiment. No sooner had we been halted than we were surrounded, but at a respectful distance, by hundreds of soldiers in all sorts of costumes—fatigue, guard, undress and walking-out order—for the "non-coms" who had conducted us from the station threatened with dire pains and penalties all those who should approach too close. Chaffing queries in every European language were thrown at us, of which I came in for a good share, as, owing to my being the tallest present, I was the Number One, right-hand man of the detachment. One onlooker politely suggested that I had joined because the feeding of such a big specimen was too great an expense to my family. Unaccustomed to so much attention, I was somewhat annoyed by our reception, although outwardly preserving a cool demeanour; and I was greatly relieved when a sergeant-major appeared on the scene and called up several men from the guard-room to disperse the crowd. Our names were then called over, and we were conducted to a room in the barracks where we passed the night. On the morrow we were examined by the regimental doctor, and were given a regimental number. This is done for every soldier in the French army, and this number is stamped on every article of clothing and piece of kit he possesses.

The same day we were conducted to the Depot Camp, which lies just outside the town walls; for it is here that the recruits are kept for about six months until they are sufficiently drilled and disciplined to be drafted into the battalions.

At this time the 1st and 2nd Battalions of the regiment were in Tonquin, and the 3rd and 4th at Bel-Abbes, with detachments at Mecheria, Ain-Sefra, and in other smaller garrisons towards the south.

Here I was taken to the squad in which I had been placed, and handed over to the corporal who commanded it.

This "non-com" was an Alsatian, whose rough and rude exterior concealed a certain good-heartedness. Judging by appearances, I thought I had fallen into the hands of a brute, but soon discovered that notwithstanding the invectives and threats with which his mouth was for ever full, he was not a "bad sort," his bark being worse than his bite. His name was Hirschler, and he came from Strassburg. He possessed a pet grievance against the Government because Prussians were allowed to enlist in the regiment; and he hated the men of this race most heartily, for which there was some excuse, his father and mother having been killed by a shell during the bombardment of his native city in 1870.

He conducted me to the tent in which I was to lodge, pointed out my place, and went with me to the stores to draw a straw mattress, sleeping-sack, bolster and a blanket. This done, he showed me how to fold them up and to dispose my kit.

This tent, like the others in the camp, was of the ordinary bell-shaped pattern. Round it a small trench is dug to prevent the rain from coming in. The floor is of beaten earth, and is about 6 inches higher than the ground outside of it. It usually gives shelter to eight men. During the day the mattresses are doubled up and placed round the interior close to the flies, which are then lifted so as to secure ventilation.

The blankets and sleeping-sacks are folded neatly and placed on the top of the bedding. About 6 feet from the ground is a circular board, and through the centre of this the pole of the tent passes; thus serving as a shelf on which the pannikins, tin cups, spoons, forks and knives of the men are kept. Underneath this shelf are hooks on which the rifles, belts and water-bottles are hung. Each man's knapsack is placed flat on the ground to the right of his bed, and his kit, which must be well folded, is placed upon it. The inside of the tents is kept very clean and tidy, and presents quite a smart appearance. This particular one contained seven occupants, including the corporal. The camp, which sheltered from five to six hundred men, was situated in a grove of laurel and eucalyptus trees; and during the spring and summer it presented a very picturesque and sylvan appearance. The weather was still very cold, and my first experience of outdoor life was rather a trying one. The winter of 1890 was exceptionally severe, as may be judged by the fact that on the morning of the 9th March I awoke to find the tent I was in covered with snow—an almost unprecedented occurrence in Algeria.

During the first few days of my service I, together with the last batch of recruits, was drilled in camp each day. When we had sufficiently mastered the art of forming fours, marching and halting at the word of command, we were allowed to go out with the other companies to morning exercise on the parade ground outside the main gate of the town.

Sidi-bel-Abbes, like many French towns built in Algeria since the conquest of that country, is surrounded by a loopholed wall and ditch, with one or several gates on each side of it. I had been drilled at school, and found this of great help to me, so far as squad and section movements were concerned; but I had never handled a gun, and had rather a hard time learning the rifle and bayonet exercise, for the early mornings were very cold during the first six weeks, and my fingers would get so numbed that each time I touched the steel of my weapon it seemed to burn them to the bone. During the frequent intervals for rest the recruits of each squad would run round their stacked rifles, swinging their arms the while—like the cabmen on the ranks at home—to restore the circulation; and they would keep this up until the bugle sounded the "fall in" again.

However, when the weather became warmer and we "shaped" better, I rather enjoyed these three hours every morning; the first two of which were devoted to squad and section drill under the order of the "non-coms," and the last one to company and battalion movements directed by the officers.

At 9 a.m. we would march through the town back to camp, with the drum and fife band at our head. At 9.30 the first meal was served out. At 10 the companies assembled to hear the daily "report" read; and from 10.30 to 4 p.m. the time was taken up by gymnasium classes, fencing lessons, and the lectures and explanations given by the sergeants on duty, of the different text-books.

The whole day of Wednesday in each week was occupied by route-marching, and the afternoon of Friday by shooting on the range. The evening meal was at 4.30, and afterwards all men not on duty or the defaulters' book could go out till the retraite, which was at 8.45. Roll call was sounded at 9, and "lights out" at 10 p.m.

The life, though somewhat hard for a recruit, is not so bad as one might imagine. Discipline is always somewhat irksome at first, but one gets used to it. Some of the "non-coms" were objectionable, and seemed to delight in getting the men into trouble; but they were exceptions, and I managed to keep clear of them, thanks to my efforts to do my best, and a certain amount of goodwill. The corps maintained a great reputation for smartness, and a very searching kit inspection took place every Saturday afternoon. It was then that the private whose accoutrements were dirty, or whose linen was unwashed, got into serious trouble.

In the barracks there were lavatories, a washhouse, bath-room and an abundant supply of water; in the camp a stream which ran through it served the same purposes. With a little trouble a man could keep himself and his outfit in a state of cleanliness, and it was his own fault if he did not.

Much has been said concerning the iron discipline which reigns supreme in the Legion, but whilst serving with the corps I never suffered any real inconvenience from it: unless a punishment of "two days to barracks" can be considered of much account. It was well merited, for, through sheer carelessness, or perhaps because I wanted to get out a little sooner, I forgot that I was orderly man for the day, and left all the tin platters in the room after the evening meal was finished, instead of taking them down to the cook-house.

A regiment of men is not like a girls' school, and it is impossible to maintain discipline in a corps composed, as mine was, of so many "hard cases" unless a certain amount of severity is used.

In nearly all instances when prolonged punishments of "cells" and pack-drill were inflicted the offences originated through drunkenness; and the same is the truth for nine out of every ten cases in which court-martials were necessary.

Drink is the curse of all armies, and of the French one in particular. Wine is cheap, and, what is worse, absinthe is also; and the abuse of this stimulant is responsible for most of the individual cases of military crime in Algeria. Therefore the authorities are perfectly justified in using the severest methods to restrict and discourage the use of it.

About a fortnight after my arrival I was sitting one evening in my tent engrossed in the cleaning of my rifle, when the flap was lifted, and another private came in who did not belong to my squad. He was tall, fair, wore a heavy moustache, and presented a very erect and soldier-like appearance. He came straight up to me, and said in my own tongue:

"You are the Englishman, are you not?"

"Yes," I replied, much surprised at being thus addressed by a man I had never seen in my life before. "Who are you?"

"My name is Knox," he answered; "I joined last week at Calais. I am English too—or rather Scotch," he added with a laugh. "Having heard of you from some fellows in my tent, I have come over to look you up."

Really pleased to meet another Briton, I proposed an adjournment to the canteen, where we could talk at our ease. He acquiesced, and I proceeded to put the breech-bolt of my rifle together again. As I was doing so he picked up my gun, and after squinting down the barrel to see if it were clean, buckled the leather sling on again, for I had taken it off before starting operations, as one is instructed to do. He manipulated the weapon in such a "know-all-about-it" manner that I could not help observing:

"This is not the first time you've handled a rifle, Knox."

"You are right," he replied with a smile; "I was six years in the British army."

He handed me my gun, which, after adjusting the breech-bolt, I hung up on its hook. We then went over to the little wooden canteen, and over a pint of Algerian wine we exchanged confidences. He told me that he was from Edinburgh, had failed to get into Sandhurst, and "listed" as a private in an infantry regiment. He served in India with his corps, rose to the rank of sergeant and was broken after a "drunk"; was again promoted, and was in charge of a military telegraph station in Burmah during the last campaign. Tired of the service, he had "bought out," and returned to Scotland. Once home he had gone on a series of "busts," which had so disgusted his people that they had refused to come to his aid when he had run through all he possessed.

Almost devoid of resources, and having heard of the Legion, he went over to Calais and enlisted. He told me that he had the firm intention of turning over a new leaf and of doing his utmost to obtain a commission in his new corps, and I have no doubt, considering his previous experience, that he would have succeeded. Unfortunately, his career was cut short in a most untoward manner, much to my grief, an account of which is given in its proper place in this narrative.

Knox and I soon became fast friends. His knowledge of the calling was a great aid to me, and he was always glad to help by giving me "tips," which, small though they might seem, were of great assistance and often kept me from getting into trouble. On evenings and Sundays we passed all our spare time together, going for walks in the town, or outside of it.

We often visited the Arab quarter, which is the great curiosity of all Algerian towns. Together we would enjoy a dish of kus-kus, a slice of braised mutton, or a plateful of fresh dates, in a Moorish tavern; or sit over small cups of thick coffee and listen to a native story-teller, or watch the Moukirs dance in an Arab café.

On Sundays we went further afield, and took long walks through the vineyards, during which we would talk of home and our people, and speculate on what they might be doing.

When the warm weather had set in we would go out a few miles, on the road to Ain-Sefra and the desert, to a cluster of big olive trees—our favourite spot. We would lie down on the grass in the shade and talk over our chances of seeing active service, either in Tonquin or on the frontier of Morocco, until, tired of doing so, we would lapse into silence and, stretched flat on our backs, stare up at the patches of light blue sky visible between the green foliage, or at the ascending smoke of our cigarettes as it faded into space. Sometimes the soft warmth of the Algerian spring, the drone of the bees, and the monotonous chirp of the big grasshoppers would seduce us into a siesta, from which we awoke to watch with lazy eyes, which blinked at the strong sunlight, the veiled women coming from a spring near by, as with easy and graceful carriage they balanced on their heads the big earthenware pitchers full to the brim with water; or a long line of camels, laden with fresh dates and figs, striding along in their ungainly way towards the town, the silence broken only by the dull, shuffling sound made by their hoofs in the dust, or an occasional "Arawa!" from their white-clad Arab conductors.

During the month of May we made the acquaintance of a private whose name was Daly. He was an American, and an artist of no mean talent. He had studied painting in Paris, and was for some time, I believe, in the studio of Gérôme. Daly was a man of about five-and-twenty, under the average height, and of refined and pleasant manners. He had joined, he told me, after a run of very bad luck at Monte Carlo, where he had lost all the money allowed him by his father to defray his expenses during his period of study in France.

Although he had already been more than a year in the regiment when I met him, he had never handled a rifle. Since he had joined he had done nothing but paint the portraits and decorate the quarters of the officers. He willingly accompanied Knox and myself in our excursions, and shared our small pleasures, and we found him a most entertaining companion. He possessed the smallest feet I have ever seen on a man; and we would often chaff him about this trait, which was the despair of the regimental "corporal shoemaker," who was forced to make special boots for him, for the stores contained no fit for such diminutive extremities. I lost touch with him when I left Algeria, and have never heard of him since. I trust, however, that he continued an artist till the end of his military career, and that he is now enjoying the success his talent deserves somewhere in "God's country," as he used to call his native land.

Although I have only spoken of my intimates, Knox and Daly, I was soon on good terms with all the other men in my company whom I came in contact with, and the fact that I could converse in the languages most in use was of great help to me in maintaining good relations with them.

About sixty per cent. of the Legionaries belong to Latin or French-speaking races; of these the Belgians, Swiss, and the majority of the Alsatians use that language, and the Italians and Spaniards very soon acquire it; but it was the rapidity with which the German and Austrian recruits gained a colloquial knowledge of it that surprised me. I attribute this to the fact that their education was generally of a higher standard than that possessed by the men of other nationalities.

About the middle of July, together with a batch of other recruits whose primary training had been found satisfactory by a board of examining officers, I was drafted into the 1st Company of the 3rd Battalion, which was lodged in the barracks.

On our arrival in our new quarters we were subjected to the usual series of practical jokes invented for the special benefit of "Johnny Raw," or "Le Bleu," as "Dumanet" calls the recruit. These pranks are of various descriptions, one of the most favourite being that of arranging a man's cot in such a manner that by pulling on the supports at the foot of it, it collapses, and its occupant slides out with all his bedding and kit on top of him.

Mock courts-martial by candle-light are also held on offenders who have broken the unwritten law of the barrack-room. The culprit is always found guilty, but generally escapes with a fine, consisting of a few litres of cheap wine, which is drunk by his room-mates, and of which he is invited to partake.

I never saw any real malice brought to bear in these jokes, and any one possessing a reasonable amount of good-humour can pass the ordeal, and even laugh at one's own occasional discomfiture.

The military education of the men in the battalion is a very serious matter, and is carried much further than at the depot. Particular care is given and a considerable amount of time devoted to perfecting the men in shooting and in training them for route-marching.

Good shots are encouraged by the distribution of badges placed on the sleeves, silver chains to be worn across the tunic, and watches of the same metal.

When I was drafted into the battalion, the troops were still using the rifle, model 1874—better known as the "Fusil Gras," the calibre and trajectory of which closely resembled those of the old Martini of the British army. This weapon was on the side-bolt principle, and its mechanism was so strong and simple that in the event of it becoming hard to manipulate owing to constant tiring the breech-bolt could be slipped out and cleansed of black powder grit in a few seconds by washing it in a puddle, or by pouring a little water over it. I have seen this done on several occasions in Tonquin when there had been hard shooting, for during the first year I was out there we still retained this weapon. When using the rifle, however, one had to be careful not to shoot with a loose shoulder, for its "kick" was tremendous; and I have sometimes seen a black eye or a bleeding nose the reward of those who neglected these precautions. The bayonet of this arm was of the sword pattern, with a blade about 2 feet long.

The system of training the infantrymen to perform long marches is an excellent one in the French army, and I have read the opinions of English military experts who declared that they are second to none in speed and endurance. Each Wednesday was devoted to this useful branch of military art.

The recruits start on their first march with their rifle and side arms only, and cover a distance of about 20 kilomètres—that is, about 12½ miles.

This distance is gradually increased, as is also the weight carried, until, a man loaded with all his kit, rifle and bayonet, reserve food for two days, a blanket, an entrenching tool and 120 rounds of ammunition, which represent a total weight of about 50 pounds, can perform a march of 45 kilomètres—that is, about 28 miles—in ten hours with ease. This space of time includes a rest of ten minutes in each hour whilst marching, and a halt of an hour for a meal. Deducting the time lost during the halts, the average speed is about 3½ miles an hour. In many cases during forced marches much better work is done, but the results given above are what the French infantryman who has been nine months with the colours can do with ease; and he maintains this standard during the remainder of his service, thanks to the continual training he undergoes. The men in each battalion of the Legion are very proud of the capabilities of their unit in this respect, and when called upon by their officers will make every effort to break records of forced marches made by other corps.

On the return to barracks after the march the non-commissioned officers of each company inspect the men's feet, and instruct their subordinates in the proper manner of treating blisters or chafes. I have myself seen an example when the results of this excellent system of training to resist fatigue has been of most signal service. As this incident is described in detail in a later chapter, I may simply mention that in January, 1892, a small relief column, of which I was a unit, performed a forced march of about 52 kilomètres,—or 32 miles—in eight hours.

This may not seem an extraordinary performance for Europe, but it must be borne in mind that it was done in the tropics, and that the road—if a path about a foot wide can be so called—ran through dense jungle and forest, or over slippery rocks, and that part of the distance was covered at night. In England the men are trained to route-marching during the summer and autumn only, which is due, no doubt, to the inclement weather of our winter and spring months; but in France and Algeria the troops are thus exercised right through the year. Whilst marching outside the towns the troops are allowed to smoke and sing.

All these military ditties, some of which date back in their origin to the early part of the eighteenth century, possess a swinging chorus, which is taken up by the whole column, with a surprisingly encouraging effect on the dust-stained, tired men, who, towards the end of a long day's tramp, are "swallowing the last kilomètre" with weary legs and aching loins.

It is of interest to note that the majority of French soldiers wear no socks when route-marching; this is owing to the fact that they generally chafe the feet of the walker. Some of the men wrap their feet in a triangular piece of linen which they call a chaussette russe; but in most cases nothing at all is worn inside the boot. Personally, I have found the last system the best conducive to comfort when a long distance has to be covered; but care must be taken that the boots worn fit well at the heel, ankle and instep, so that the foot does not slip about in them. They should be broad across the toes, and about half an inch longer than the foot itself; and, most important of all, should be so well greased that the leather of the uppers is as supple as india-rubber. Tallow is as good as anything for this purpose, but in Tonquin I found castor-oil—which is cheap and plentiful in the colony—a most excellent substitute.

[CHAPTER II]

General inspection—The band of the Legion—The caporal sapeur—Off to the manœuvres—A near thing—Convalescence—Arzew—Amateur theatricals—Bel-Abbes again—Volunteers for Tonquin—Oran again—A good send-off—The troop-ship Bien-Hoa, life on board—The Padre—Saigon—Along Bay.

Time flies apace when one is engrossed in mastering a new profession or calling, and I could with difficulty realise that only six short months separated me from my old life and complete ignorance of all things military, as, on one bright, hot morning in August, I stood at ease as the front rank man in No. 2 file of my company, which had mustered with all the strength of the regiment, and glanced at the serried ranks of the men of my corps, formed up on three sides of a square, round the barrack-yard. In the centre of this hollow square of men was the band of the regiment, and the detachment of sappers.

A few paces behind these were the colours, carried by a subaltern, and flanked by their guard with bayonets fixed. In front of the band and facing the barrack gates, which were in the centre and open side of the square, was Colonel Barbery, our commanding officer, mounted on a white Arab stallion with streaming mane and tail.

Our chief, if one could judge by the anxious glances he threw at his men and the repeated tugs he gave to his heavy white moustache, was impatient and a little nervous, for the corps was about to undergo the searching inspection of the General commanding the 19th corps d'armée, of which our regiment was a unit.

Only those who have assisted as an actor in an ordeal of this kind, can fully appreciate the nervous tension produced on all present by the last few minutes of waiting prior to the event.

The previous day, and indeed part of the night, has been spent in preparations.

"Troops to be paraded in full campaigning order"—so ran the general command; and in consequence there were stores and ammunition to be served out in addition to the ordinary work which devolves on the private and his superiors previous to a big review. Into the preceding twenty-four hours has been crammed as much hustling, rushing, brushing, scrubbing, polishing as the men and their officers can be expected to support; and now that the activity has been suddenly succeeded by a dead calm, and the query has arisen in the minds of all present as to whether everything necessary to the upholding of the good traditions of the corps has been done, the three thousand rank and file present and their chief can be reasonably excused the feeling of nervous tension which pervades them, and which owes its origin to the brusque reaction of the change from febrile activity to silent and immobile expectancy.

At such moments the most trivial incidents, which at ordinary times would pass unnoticed, will produce a general impression, even as a tiny twig falling into a well will create a ripple on the surface of its water.

Impressed, perhaps, by the silence of the motionless men around him, the Colonel's charger arches his beautiful neck, paws the stone pavement and whinnies. The mounts of the majors and company commanders take up and echo his shrill cry, break into little impatient movements, and are at once curbed by their riders. The incident, if so it can be called, is over in less time than it takes to describe; but even this banality has sufficed to provoke a grin which passes on from face to face, until a wave of still and nervous mirth ripples across the features of all.

Some one's steel-shod rifle-butt, breaking the tense silence, clangs on the stones, and one can almost feel the passing of the silent curses which, quicker than thought, go out from each to the comrade for his carelessness. Then in the distance there is a sound—at first a murmur—which as it approaches gains volume, until the noise of trotting hoofs and the occasional clink of steel can be distinguished.

All eyes are at once turned to the barrack railings and the gate with its flanking guard house. Beyond this, on the opposite pavement, can be seen the expectant crowd, composed of a big element of French and Spanish colonists in ordinary European attire, many stately Arabs clad in long white burnous, and head-dress of the same colour, which is secured with the usual cord of camel's hair; a sprinkling of Algerian Jews in baggy knickerbockers and gaudy-hued embroidered jackets, and here and there a few native women of the lower classes, most of whom wear the haik or long veil which conceals their hair and all their features save the eyes, unless they be of Kabyle blood, and expose their small and comely traits.

The faces of the crowd are all turned in one direction, their hands raised, shading their eyes from the glare of the African sun, which brings out, with almost painful vividness, the bright dashes of colour in their costumes, as they gaze eagerly towards the approaching cavalcade, the sound of which is now so near that it mingles with the sharp words of command, and the rattle of the rifles of the guard at the gate as they come to the salute. The Colonel draws his sword, and spurs his charger forward a few paces.

From the "adjudant major" comes the sharp order, "Garde à vous!" and there is a rustle along the ranks as the men stiffen up to attention.

Then, "Bayonnettes aux canons!" A sharp rattle, and the lines are tipped with steel.

Suddenly through the iron railings can be seen a rush of bright colours, and the General and his escort are in view. Coming along, almost at a gallop, he turns sharply and enters the gate; and as he does so, the Colonel, who then faces him, brings his sword up to the salute, and the command rings out "Portez armes!"—"Presentez-armes!" each order being followed by the short, crisp "crash!" of three thousand smartly-handled rifles.

From the men in the crowd outside come cries of "Vive la France!" "Vive la Légion!" And the native women join in the din with their repeated yells of "How! How! How!" The flag is unfurled, and floats out proudly on the light breeze.

There is a glare of polished brass, as forty bugles are brought up with a jerk to as many mouths, and they blare out the salute to the flag "Au Drapeau."

The General, who has drawn up his charger with a jerk, and sits with his right hand brought up to the peak of his white-plumed cocked hat, is in the full uniform of a commander of a corps d'armée, and his escort of Arab cavalry, in red cloaks and blue and white turbans, which has halted just inside the gates after wheeling smartly into line, forms a most picturesque background, which shuts out from sight the eager, shouting throngs in the street.

The General, and indeed all the officers and troops present, remain at the "Salut," until the last notes from the bugles die away; and then comes the order, "Portez armes," a rattle—and all is still again.

The detailed inspection of the troops and their quarters terminated, the regiment is marched out to the parade ground, where manœuvres are gone through, the duration of which depends entirely on the whim of the Inspector-General.

However, these rarely last more than two hours, and then the corps marches back to barracks through the town, much to the delight of the Arab population, who are a warlike people and thoroughly enjoy a military pageant.

Also the Legion presents a pleasing sight to a soldier's eyes, as with bayonets fixed the men swing by, each battalion, company and file at its proper distance. The tramp of feet resounds with clockwork regularity, in union with the musical rhythm of the band, and the blare of the bugles, crashing out the regimental march with its rattling chorus, the words seeming to hover over the lips of all the men:

"Tiens voila du boudin! voila du boudin! voila du boudin!
Pour les Alsaciens, les Suisses et les Lorrains,
Pour les Belges il n'y en a point,
Pour les Belges il n'y en a point,
Car ce sont des tireurs au flanc.
Pour les Belges il n'y en a point,
Pour les Belges il n'y en a point,
Car ce sont des tireurs au flanc."

No other regiment in France can approach the Legion for smartness at drill and on parade. The men are proud of the reputation, and make every effort to maintain it.

The bands of the 1st and 2nd Régiments Étrangers are of the best. That of the first of these corps is particularly good, and it possesses a weird and barbaric sort of musical instrument—if so it can be called—which was captured in an engagement with the troops of the famous Arab chief Abd-el-Kader, some sixty years ago.

It consists of a haft of polished hard wood about 5 feet long; at the top of this is a big silver crescent, and below, at intervals of about 6 inches one from the other, and on either side are five metal brackets, the ends of which are decorated with long streamers of horse-hair dyed a bright red. From these are suspended a multitude of small silver bells, producing a gay and exhilarating sound when shaken in cadence with the music. When the regiment is on the march the detachment of sappers is several paces ahead of the band.

Like their confrères in our own army these men carry axes, spades and saws; the original idea of their presence there being, I suppose, that they might clear the route for the troops behind.

However, taking into consideration the existing railways and good roads of to-day, one may safely conclude that their presence in modern infantry corps is due rather to a respect for tradition than to actual utility.

The corporal who was in command of the sappers, at the time I am writing of, was the biggest man in the regiment. He was six feet four, and broad in proportion. He was of Belgian nationality, and called Mertens, and was the hero of an episode of which all the regiment was justly proud. This incident took place at the capture of the fortified town of Sontay, in Tonquin, on the 16th December, 1883, which place was defended at the time by Prince Hoang-Ke-View, governor of the province, with about twenty thousand troops, composed principally of Chinese blackflag braves.

When the fire from the French gun-boats and field artillery had made a breach in the thick walls of the city, Admiral Courbet, who was in command of the expedition, launched a battalion of Arab light infantry (Tirailleurs Algériens) against the position.

Notwithstanding the fact that these men were seasoned troops and born fighters, they were beaten back with severe loss, which speaks much for the desperate resistance offered by the Chinese garrison, some of whom were daring enough to dart out through the gap in the walls and decapitate the dead and wounded left in the track of the retreating column. The bleeding heads, placed atop of bamboo poles, were planted on the crest of the ramparts amid the shrill, triumphant yells of the Celestials.

The Arabs, reformed and stiffened by two companies of French marines, rushed once more to the assault, but with no more success, and indeed with greater loss than the first time. Now the white-faced, gory-necked heads of some of the French marines balanced side by side with the dusky bleeding features of their African comrades. The Chinese, howling drunk with success, and heedless of the fire from the French artillery, which was covering the retreat, stood on the wall to yell defiance and invective at their enemy. Indeed, so greatly was the garrison encouraged that a sortie was made which threatened to develop into a strong attack on the flanks of the expeditionary force.

The Admiral then played his last and trump card, and a battalion of the Legion, which till now had formed part of the reserve, rushed at the breach with the band playing and colours flying.

These troops advanced at the pas de charge, and were met by a terrible fire; many fell, but they were not to be denied.

In a few minutes the first ranks reached the edge of the ditch, and leaping down on to the slope of débris, formed by the stones and earth detached by the cannonade, they scrambled up to the breach, tore away the bamboo palisade, rushed, or were pushed, through it, and gained the crest.

The Legionaries suffered fearful loss; and it is to be feared that, excited by this and the cruel murder of their wounded comrades, they gave little mercy to those who opposed them.

Among the first to gain a footing in the place were a subaltern bearer of the colours, and big Mertens.

The first was immediately shot dead, whereupon the sapper seized the flag, and, rushing to the ramparts, stood on them in view of the whole army. Waving the bullet-torn, powder-stained tricolour above his head, he shouted: "Vive la Belgique! Vive la Légion!"

There was something grimly comical, but truly typical, in the conduct of this mercenary, who, forgetting the country for which he was fighting, and after just risking death a hundred times, coupled in his shout of triumph the name of his motherland and that of the corps to which he belonged.

Mertens received the médaille militaire for his bravery; and it is reported that Admiral Courbet, when complimenting him on the courage he had shown, said: "And you would have had the Legion of Honour had you cried, 'Vive la France!'"

This last, however, is probably a soldier's yarn.

With September came the manœuvres which were held in the south of the province of Oran, and along the Morocco frontier towards the Tuat and the Figuig oases.

My battalion went by train as far as Mecheria, where the column was concentrated.

From this point we proceeded afoot to Ain-Sefra, and thence south, along the caravan routes into the desert.

It was terribly hard work marching through the sand under the scorching African sun, laden as we were with all our kit.

South of Ain-Sefra there is little or no vegetation, save at an occasional oasis. The landscape consists of stretches of sand hillocks, with here and there patches of mimosa and Alfa grass, the monotony being broken only at rare intervals by the brown tents of an Arab encampment.

Fuel was so scarce that it was necessary to burn dry camel dung for cooking purposes. We had been out about ten days when I fell ill with typhoid fever, and was sent back to Sidi-bel-Abbes.

The convoy of sick, of which I was a unit, travelled part of the way by camel or mule cacolet, and the remainder by rail.

It was a terrible journey, and the sufferings I endured will never be erased from my memory. Indeed, even to-day it is a source of wonder to me that I pulled through it, for I was in a sorry state when carried eventually into the military hospital of our garrison town.

During the latter part of my stay in the hospital I learnt from fellow-patients that a violent epidemic of typhoid had swept through the corps; and I was terribly grieved when, on my return to the barracks, I was told that my friend Knox had been among the first to be carried off by the scourge. I remained for a long time under the sad impression which his loss had caused me. He was a true friend and a good soldier, and, had he lived, would have carved out a place for himself in the regiment.

On rejoining my corps I was examined by our battalion surgeon, Dr Aragon, a kind and really clever medical officer, who liked "mes legionnaires," as he called us, but who was unsparing to malingerers who shammed sickness to shirk work.

He declared that I could not possibly go back to my duties for several weeks, so, on his recommendation, I was sent off to Arzew, a small and charming little seaport town, situated on the coast about 100 miles west of Oran. This city was the "Arsenaria" of the Roman Empire.

It possesses a fine natural harbour, and the ancients used to put in there with their vessels to escape from the westerly gales so prevalent on this coast.

A chain of hills, varying from 1,000 to 2,000 feet high, encompass the town landwards, and on these, facing the sea, are several forts.

One of these works of defence served as a sanatorium for the weak and convalescent men of the Legion who had returned from Tonquin, or who, like myself, were recovering from diseases contracted in Algeria.

The fort was splendidly situated on the crest of one of the hills, 1,200 feet above the sea, which washed its base. A pine-wood extended from the beach right up to the edge of the moat, and from the other side of the hill one could look right down into the town and count the red-tiled roofs, or the people in the market-place.

I stayed here during three months and recovered all my old strength and vigour, thanks to the pure air and rest I enjoyed during that period. My time there passed swiftly and pleasantly, for we were at liberty to go for many long walks, and indulge in as much sea-bathing as we liked.

There was also a small theatre fitted up in one of the casemates. The sergeant who was in charge of this, a most enthusiastic amateur, decided, though I could never explain his reason for so doing, that I possessed a latent talent for the stage, and he pressed me into the troupe to perform minor parts. At first reluctant, I soon found that there was a great deal of amusement to be got out of the rehearsals and performances.

I did not shine in men's rôles which it was my lot to fill, but when I appeared as the Alsatian maid-of-all-work in "La consigne est de ronfler" my success was unmistakable.

I am close on six feet, and the skirt and bodice which, an hour before the performance began, were given me to wear, had probably been made for a lady about five feet four. When attired, my dress reached a little below my knees, the sleeves finished just above my elbows, and a blonde wig, surmounted by a big silk bow, added another good two inches to my height.

If I can judge by the screams of laughter and thunderous applause which greeted my appearance each time I "went on," and by the hilarity of my fellow-actors, who sometimes failed to preserve their gravity when I gave them the "cue," I ought to consider that I made a palpable "hit" in a feminine part.

When I had been two months at Arzew I felt so much better that I applied to the garrison doctor for permission to return to my corps, and, after a medical examination, was authorised to do so.

I arrived at my former quarters in Bel-Abbes on the 20th January, 1891. A fortnight after my return an official announcement was made that a detachment of five hundred men, reliefs for the companies in Tonquin, would shortly be sent East, and that those desiring to volunteer should send in their names.

The conditions required were—good conduct, nine months' previous service, and a satisfactory examination by the doctors. It is needless to state that I applied at once, and my jubilation was great when, a month later, I was informed by my sergeant-major that I had been accepted.

On the morning of 2nd March, attired in our colonial service kit, we marched out of barracks to the station, escorted by the remainder of the regiment in review order. The Colonel and his staff, the band, and the colours were formed up on the platform. Our chief addressed a few well-chosen words to the detachment, wishing us a safe return, stating that he was confident that we would do our best at all times and under all conditions to maintain the splendid reputation of the corps.

Then, as our train slid slowly out of the station, the band struck up "The Marseillaise," the troops presented arms, and the colours were lowered. Our Colonel and his staff stood at the salute as we rolled by, and our comrades sent off cheer after cheer, to which we replied to the best of our ability. It was destined that I should not return as a Legionary to the headquarters of the regiment, but the enthusiastic send-off given by the corps to our detachment will never fade from my memory.

We stayed in Oran five days awaiting the arrival of the trooper.

Here we met with the most cordial hospitality from the regiment of Zouaves which garrisoned the town and in whose barracks we were quartered, and the popularity of our corps was clearly demonstrated by the repeated gifts of tobacco, pipes, books and games of all kinds which were made to us by civilians, and were destined to solace the tediousness of the long journey we were about to take.

Oran is too well known to the English tourist of to-day for it to be necessary to describe at length this picturesque old city; which in its history and situation resembles Algiers. Both were formerly the strongholds of the Moorish pirates who swept the Mediterranean during several centuries.

The whitewashed, red-tiled houses rise terrace above terrace, in the form of a crescent from the sea, and a heavy fortress palace known as the "Kasba," formerly the residence of the Bey, dominates the city and seems to hold it in submission.

On the 8th March, accompanied by an armed picquet and the band of the Zouaves, we marched down to the quay and embarked on the Bien-Hoa, a government transport of about 5,000 tons register, which sailed the same day. Besides our own detachment there were about six hundred men, reliefs for the Infanterie de Marine and batteries in Tonquin, and one hundred and fifty battery mules.

Fortunately for the French soldier of to-day, the Republic no longer undertakes the transport of her troops over seas, and these operations are confided to private firms who own big steamers, specially fitted out for the trade.

The advantages of this system are considerable, both from the point of view of economy to the Government and of comfort to the passengers. On board the Bien-Hoa the troops were submitted to the same discipline as the crew. We were divided into messes and watches, and had to take a turn at scrubbing the decks in the morning, hauling in and slacking the lead ropes at sail drill, and aiding in the several other duties of the ship, which a landsman can safely do without imperilling life and limb. We grumbled a great deal, for that is a soldier's prerogative; and were grumbled at still more for our clumsiness; but the work kept us fit, and was an excellent cure for those disposed to sea-sickness.

Frequent parades and kit inspections were also held by our own officers, and these did away with the tendency to slackness and loss of discipline which are the consequent results of the tedium and inaction of a long voyage. The food was good and plentiful. Fresh meat, vegetables and bread were served out four days in each week; salt beef or pork, dried beans or lentils, and ship's biscuits formed the menu of two days' meals; and Friday being a fast-day—for at that time the French navy still retained many Catholic institutions—meat was replaced by sardines and cheese. There was an abundance of good coffee and pure water at the disposal of thirsty men, and each private drew a daily ration of a pint of red wine.

Defaulters, however, were deprived of this wine during the term of the disciplinary punishment they had incurred.

All the military passengers, from the sergeants downwards, slept in hammocks slung in the 'tween decks, and, judging by my own experience, it is certain that many of us found this mode of accommodation far from comfortable during the first week or so. However, we all seemed to become reconciled to it in the long run, although, even towards the end of the voyage, I would have preferred to sleep on the deck, and I know there were many more of the same mind; but this was strictly forbidden.

There is certainly, if one can depend on what the sailors say—and they ought to know—a way of obtaining as much rest in a hammock as in a bed if one only knows how; but I am convinced, from experience, that to gain that knowledge one must serve a long apprenticeship and begin it when young.

Some very good concerts were organised on board, and these, together with the exciting games of draughts, dominoes or loto, were of great help in assisting us to pass the time when we were not at drill, on duty, or undergoing inspection.

The aumônier or chaplain of the ship was a great favourite with all. This kindly cleric was a fine specimen of manhood, who stood over six feet. His erect mien and the grey beard which fell on his black soutane gave him a most apostolic and benevolent exterior, which was justified by the really good, gentle and merry soul it contained. He would often go out of his way to intercede with the commander in favour of a punished man, and have the guilty one sent to his cabin, where, by simple straight-spoken homilies, of which he knew the secret, he would appeal to the pride and manhood of his hearer.

More often than not he succeeded in moving the men to real emotion, and few were such fools as to be bold enough to interrogate the abashed and sometimes red-eyed delinquent who might be returning from a half-hour with the padre.

Neither did he confine his special attention to the souls of the few black sheep of his flock, for at the close of his admonitions he would often comfort the body of the repentant and affected sinner by administering a glass of Malaga taken from his own special bottle, which would be accompanied by more paternal advice concerning the future conduct of his cher garçon.

More than once did I remark this excellent man, when, after one of these interviews he would come from his cabin, and, leaning on the rail, gaze out at the expanse of blue water dancing in the tropical sunlight, and note on his benevolent features the gentle, contented smile which bespoke indulgence for the faults of others, and the satisfaction of a duty accomplished.

Our journey was a long one, for the ship, though a very seaworthy craft, could not steam more than twelve knots at her best. The engines broke down on two occasions, once in the Red Sea, when we were delayed for two days, and again in the Indian Ocean, where the trooper lay like a log for seventy hours before the necessary repairs could be effected.

For coaling purposes we touched at Colombo and Singapore, but remained only a few hours in these ports.

The Bien-Hoa arrived at Saigon on 13th April, and stayed there for four days, during which we were quartered in the barracks of the 11th Regiment of the Infanterie de Marine.

Here we were able to stretch our legs a little by going out and visiting the town, which is a fine one, and possesses a splendid Botanical Garden and zoological collection. Most of us were specially delighted at being able to sleep for a few nights in a cot again.

We sailed early in the morning of the 18th, and anchored in Along Bay (Tonquin) on the evening of the 21st April.

Here we saw for the first time the land we had all been so impatient to reach, and from which many of us were destined never to return, and speculations were rife concerning the military operations going on. We were all agreeably surprised to find, after our experience of the damp, depressing heat of Saigon, that the climate here was quite supportable, and resembled somewhat that of a warm spring day in Europe. However, we were soon to make acquaintance with the tropical summer of Tonquin, which usually sets in about the middle of May—that is to say, as soon as the south-west monsoon is well established, when the terrible intensity of its heat is all the more appreciable owing to the suddenness of its arrival.

[CHAPTER III]

Some information concerning Tonquin—Haïphong—Phulang-Thuong—The 2nd Battalion—The Yen-Thé Rebellion—General Godin's column—A surprise at Cao-Thuong—Colonel Frey's column—Nha-Nam—The building of a fort—Reconnaissance—Night attacks—Native troops.

France possesses an empire of no small importance in the East, the total area of which, some 256,000 square miles, is more than three times greater than her home territory. French Indo-China, which includes Cochin-China, Cambodia, the Laos country, Annam and Tonquin, consists, roughly speaking, of the basins of the two great rivers, the Mekong and the Song-Koï (Red River), and is situated between 8 deg. 30 min. and 23 deg. 23 min. N. lat., and 97 deg. 40 min. and 108 deg. 30 min. E. long. The total population is about 24,000,000.

Tonquin forms the north-eastern extremity of French Indo-China. It is bounded on the north by the Chinese provinces of Yunan and Kwang-si, on the west by the Laos provinces, on the south by Annam and the Gulf of Tonquin, and on the east by the Chinese province of Kwang-tung. Its total area is about 35,000 square miles, and it contains a population of over 12,000,000.

Near the sea the country consists of a rich alluvial plain intersected by numerous waterways, the principal one being the Red River, which rises in Yunan, and empties itself into the Gulf of Tonquin. From about 100 miles inland the ground rises gradually, and the whole country breaks up into a confusing jumble of hills and rocky pinnacles, which as one proceeds further north and east become mountain ranges, some of the peaks on the Tonquin-Yunan frontier attaining a height of about 9,700 feet. Along the Kwang-si frontier there are also altitudes of some importance. Attached to the great mountain chains of north and middle Tonquin, there are numerous series of lesser heights, which diminish as they come towards the south. The hills are covered with a dense grass higher than a man's shoulders; the mountains with thick, impenetrable forests. The rich alluvial plain or Delta, which extends from the sea, is densely populated, and produces yearly two very important rice crops.

The country was originally inhabited by a race known as the Kmers, who, if one can judge by the rare specimens of their architecture which exist along the coast of Annam, attained a comparatively high standard of civilisation.

At an epoch which it is impossible to designate with any exactitude, but which can be placed with some probability about 2,500 B.C., the Kmers were overwhelmed by an Annamese invasion, and almost exterminated.

The survivors fled northwards towards the mountains and high tablelands difficult of access, leaving the rich Delta plains in the hands of their conquerors. The numerous mountain tribes of to-day, known as the Muongs, Mans and Thos, which are to be found in the highlands of Annam and Tonquin, are most probably the descendants of the former owners of the country.

As a race they are superior both in physique and courage to the Annamese, although they do not possess the cunning and craftiness of this race.

It was probably owing to a want of cohesion and organisation, or to the fact that the invaders possessed better weapons and superior methods of warfare, that they were driven from their homes. In speech, appearance, dress and customs, these aborigines bear a striking resemblance to the mountain tribes who inhabit the interior of the islands of Hainan and Formosa, and it is probable that they belong to a once-powerful race which existed at a distant period along the littoral of Eastern Asia. Their skin is of a very light yellow tint; some of the women are almost white.

Their features are small and regular, and they do not possess the narrow eyes, flat noses, prominent cheek bones and enormous mouths of the Annamese. They are also taller, stronger, and present a much healthier appearance.

Their costume consists of a cotton blouse and short trousers reaching just below the knee, the uniform colour being a deep blue.

TONQUINESE NATIVE TYPES.

These people wear their hair very long, and it is wound round the top of the head and enclosed in a turban of similar colour and texture to their costume. Like some of the natives of the Laos provinces and the Yunan, the Muongs always wear a sort of puttie, made of blue cotton cloth, which is wound round the leg from ankle to knee.

They are expert mountaineers and hunters, and will not hesitate in attacking a tiger or panther with no better weapons than poisoned arrows, or a matchlock gun.

The origin of the Annamese or Tonquinese—for they are one and the same race—is very obscure, since they possess no reliable records going back for more than eight centuries, which is considerably posterior to the epoch at which their ancestors must have invaded Indo-China.

Some writers declare them to be of Mongolian origin, though this is hardly probable, for, if one can judge by the territory the race actually occupies, they probably came from the south-west. Others have declared them to be a branch of the Malay family.

In physique they resemble the Siamese, and are not so sturdy as the Malay. Their skin is of a deep copper colour. They are very small, their average height being about 4 feet 10 inches. Their lower members are strong and well formed, but the bust is long, thin and weak.

The everyday costume of the men consists of a kind of jacket and trousers of cotton cloth reaching almost to the ankles, the colour of which is generally a dark brown. The garments of the women are somewhat similar, but over those already mentioned they wear a sort of long stole which falls almost to the feet.

Both sexes wear their hair very long; it is rolled up in a strip of silk or cotton cloth, and wound round the head like a turban.

Their features are far from pleasing—indeed, one might qualify them as almost repulsive; flat noses with distended nostrils, high, receding foreheads, prominent cheek bones, narrow eyes and an enormous mouth being their principal traits.

Their character also presents few good points. That they are intelligent and possess a wonderful power of assimilation there can be no doubt, but these good traits are negatively qualified by the enormous amount of vanity, laziness, cruelty and cunning with which they are gifted.

Buddhism and ancestor-worship form the base of their religion, which is as strongly impregnated with Chinese ideas as is their language with words of the same origin, this being the natural result of their conquest by that race in the year 116 B.C., from which epoch to the arrival of the French the kingdom of Tonquin formed a fief of the Celestial Empire.

The influence of France in Indo-China dates back to 1585 when a Jesuit Father, Georges de la Mothe, established several missions, homes and schools at different points in the Mekong Delta.

Owing to the activity of the French Fathers the influence of that country increased enormously; and in November, 1787, thanks to Bishop Pigneau de Béhaine, who was at that time the trusted friend and counsellor of the Emperor Gia-Long at Hué, a treaty was signed at Versailles by Louis XVI. and Cang-Dzue, son of the above-mentioned sovereign. By this treaty the French king placed at the disposal of his Eastern ally a naval squadron composed of twenty men-of-war, five European regiments and two native ones; also a sum of 1,000,000 dollars, of which 500,000 were in specie, and the remainder in arms and munitions of war. In return for these favours the Emperor of Annam made territorial concessions in the Island of Poula Condor and at Tourane to the French nation.

On his death in 1820 Gia-Long was succeeded by his son Tu-Duc, who detested the Europeans. The French settlers were driven from their concessions, and the missionaries persecuted and massacred.

Being at this epoch engrossed by the political situation in Europe, it was not until the end of 1858 that the French Government was able to undertake active measures for the protection of her interests.

In that year the port of Tourane was captured, and in February, 1859, Saigon, the capital of Cochin-China, was also taken.

From the occupation of these two ports may be said to begin the era of French conquest in Indo-China, of which the principal events are the following:

1867. Capture of Finh-Larg, Sa-dec, Cho-doc and Hatien (Cochin-China).

1873. Capture of Hanoï (capital of Tonquin) by Francis Garnier.

1879. Cochin-China declared a French colony, with Saigon as the capital.

1883. Insurrection of the Black Flags in Tonquin, which was secretly encouraged by the Emperor Tu-Duc. Massacre of Francis Garnier and Commandant Rivière near Hanoï. Death of Tu-Duc. Treaty signed at Hué by the Regent Hiep-Hoa, acknowledging the French Protectorate over Annam and Tonquin.

1884. Defeat of the Black Flags by Admiral Courbet at Nam-Dinh, Bac-Ninh and Son-Tay. Rupture with China, who refused to renounce her feudal rights.

1885. Signature of the treaty with China, by which that country renounces all sovereignty over Tonquin. Rebellion at Hué suppressed by the General de Courcy. Capture of the young Emperor Ham-Nghi, who was exiled to Algeria, the French Government placing his half-brother Than-Thai on the throne.

In 1886 M. Paul Bert was appointed first Governor of Indo-China. The kingdom of Annam and the Tonquin Delta were placed under the administration of Residents with a Civil staff.

From this it must not be imagined that the pacification of the country was complete. The treaty of 1885, which secured the evacuation by the Chinese army of the provinces of Lao-Kay, Ha-Giang, Cao-Bang and Lang-son, had put a stop to any organised warfare; and the exile of the young Emperor Ham-Nghi to Algeria in the same year had crushed the open resistance of the court of Hué. However, thousands of Black Flag soldiers and Hunan braves had remained in Tonquin, and these occupied the mountainous regions in the north and east of that country, from which they descended at intervals to prey on the rich villages and towns in the plains, and to harass or capture the outlying French garrisons.

In Hué also there were many mandarins, who, though they openly professed friendship to France and acknowledged the sovereignty of Than-Thai, were partisans of the exiled monarch, and secretly subventioned and organised insurrections in the provinces of Than Hoa (Annam), Son-Tay, Bac-Ninh, Thaï-Nguyen and the Yen-Thé (Tonquin).

These officials were also in communication with the Chinese bands, three of whose principal leaders, Ba-Ky, Luong-Tam-Ky and Luu-Ky, were former lieutenants of the old Black Flag General, Lieu-Vinh-Phuoc.

In 1891, when I arrived in Tonquin, the political situation of the colony was little better than in 1885, so far as the question of general pacification was concerned. The Delta provinces had accepted the French rule, and the principal towns were growing in importance and prosperity under a wise system of administration, but the neighbouring provinces were rampant with brigandage and open revolt. Organised resistance to the new order of things existed within a few miles of Hanoï the capital, and Haïphong the seaport, of the colony.

Indeed, as late as in 1892 the suburbs of the first-mentioned were on several occasions attacked, looted and partially burnt; and in 1891 the Chinese bands who occupied the mountainous region known as the Bao-Day would raid the villages on the left bank of the Cua-Cam, and out of sheer bravado fire a volley or two over the river into Haïphong.

Military columns were sent out each winter, but with small results. Before these forces the bands would retire to their rocky highland fortresses, and to reach them the troops had to pass through many miles of most difficult country, covered with dense forest and jungle, and traversed by few paths, the whereabouts of which were kept secret by the enemy.

Information was most difficult to obtain, the fear of the Chinese being so great that even their victims refused to give the officers any aid in the matter, knowing full well that reprisals would follow.

Frequently disasters would occur, and a reconnoitring party would be cut up in a narrow defile, or a convoy ambuscaded and captured. From 1887 to 1891 each successive General commanding the troops in the colony had urged on the Government the necessity of undertaking operations on a more extensive scale than heretofore; and had these officers been allowed a free hand in the matter, there is little doubt that this chronic state of insurrection and anarchy would have been brought to a speedy end.

But the Ministry in Paris would not hear of such a thing. In France the mere mention of the word "Tonquin" raised a babble of excited recriminations. The public would have none of it.

In 1883, 1884 and 1885 nearly fifteen thousand of the flower of the French army had perished of disease, or had been slain by a merciless enemy.

The expedition had cost hundreds of millions of francs, and the large army of soldiers it was still necessary to maintain in the colony was of great expense each year to the metropolis. The majority of Frenchmen who had never at any time possessed serious cravings for a Colonial Empire, were tired of the whole business.

RIVER SCENE AT HAÏPHONG.

Right up to 1890 it was seriously debated in the Chamber, on different occasions, whether it would not be better to abandon this new colony. Fortunately for France she retained her rich prize.

The Tonquin question had caused a hetacomb of Ministries.

Jules Ferry, France's greatest politician since Gambetta, owed his downfall to Général de Négriers reverse at Ky-Lua, and the subsequent retreat of the army from Lang-son. Notwithstanding his undoubted talents he was never able to recover his former influence in State affairs.

In 1885 the excited Parisian mob would have torn him to pieces had he fallen into their hands.

"À bas Ferry!" "À bas le Tonkinois!" was their cry.

To-day every serious Frenchman acknowledges his respect for this great statesman, who was undoubtedly the founder of the splendid Colonial Empire his country possesses.

From 1887 to 1891, owing to the state of public opinion, it became absolutely necessary for succeeding Ministers, who had any respect for the stability of their portfolios, to adopt a special line of conduct in regard to Tonquin, which might be defined as a policy of mild procrastination.

Instructions were given to the Governors of the unhappy colony which might be summed up as, "Don't ask for more men; don't ask for more money. Do the best you can with what you have, and make no noise over it."

In consequence, the Governors were obliged to repress the legitimate aspirations of the military officers, and refused to sanction operations on an extensive scale, which, though necessary, would most probably attract public attention in France. The natural result of this situation was that during the whole of this period the relations between the civil and military powers in the colony were of the worst. In the French Chamber the Ministry would announce from time to time that the work of pacification was making rapid strides, that organised resistance was at an end, and that the occasional depredations which occurred—the importance of which, they stated, was magnified by the sensational press of the metropolis—were the acts of a few stray Chinese brigands (Voleurs de Vaches), whom the local militia and gendarmes were quite able to bring to order. In the meanwhile, the bands aforementioned, secure in the comparative inactivity of the French, continued to plunder the villages and capture the native authorities, who were liberated after payment of a ransom. In 1889 the famous Luu-Ky succeeded in carrying off three French colonists, the two brothers Rocque and Baptiste Costa. They were surprised whilst on a shooting expedition a few miles from Haïphong. They remained prisoners of the band for upwards of two months, and suffered every possible indignity and great privations. They were finally liberated on the payment of 80,000 dollars.

Encouraged by the success of their compatriots, the Chinese soldiers, who garrisoned the blockhouses and forts along the Kwang-si and Kwang-tung frontiers, would leave their uniforms behind them and pass into the provinces of Lang-son and Cao-Bang, where they would raid the rich valleys, burn the villages, drive away the cattle, slaughter the male inhabitants, and carry back the women into captivity.

In the Yen-Thé the partisans of Ham-Nghi, who were secretly encouraged by the mandarins in Hué, had raised the standard of revolt.