22nd February 1830 hours

Corporal Fleming had picked up one of the local newspapers during our stay in Alexandria and pointed out to me a small article on page three of the tome.  It told of an adventurer by the name of Mr. George Walker who had been prospecting for gold in the Transvaal region of southern Africa.  This Boer republic had been annexed by Her Majesty in 1877 and there had been speculation as to possible large gold deposits in payable quantities to be found there.  

A number of other prospectors had made claims before but it was Mr. Walker who discovered what  seemed to be referred to as the 'Main Reef Leader', a vast store of gold-bearing rock stretching many thousands of feet downwards from ground level.  The article also spoke of the 'fever' which had started to rage amongst citizens of our African colonies even as far north as Egypt.

Corporal Fleming had of course already relayed this information to many of the enlisted men, and there had been some wild talk of resigning from the military and heading for the goldfields.

I must admit the thought crossed my mind too for a brief interlude, then I came back to my senses.  Grovelling in the dirt or digging hard rock underground was not to my taste, that's why I volunteered for the Camel Corps.  Riding above the ground at a relaxed pace seemed much more convivial than being covered in mud and dirt and grime.  I mean to say, my days as a common foot soldier were fairly short, due wholly to my determination as to not remaining in the position of being ordered about by beetroot-faced Sergeant-Majors for the rest of my days.

So, with a lot of grit and a nose to the grindstone I studied for an officer's commission.  After all, it had been Prime Minister Gladstone's Liberal government which had established a more equitable system of entry into the higher ranks of the military, and of the Civil Service, some years prior that had given me a sense of the possibility of achieving that goal.  That and the fact that my uncle on my father's side was an Admiral in the Royal Navy, and who put a quiet word in the right ears here and there.  Thank you Admiral Edgar Buxtehude Shuntwiggle!!

Almost makes me want to break into song (ahem).  And I just happen to have a little ditty handy that was written by my good uncle for a light opera, one that he composed in those idle hours on the bridge when he'd delegated all his duties to lower ranked officers.  

Ah yes, dear Uncle Edgar, a man of many parts is he!

The Admiral's Sea Shanty

We're coming into port

With a cheering escort

And I'm on the bridge looking dashing.

My ship's the Renown

She sails for the Crown

(Harrumph) All shipshape and Bristol fashion.

If e'er you'd mock her

To Davy Jones locker

When you've had a damned good lashing.

Descended from Nelson

(Ahem) Well, maybe his bosun

And pirates, with teeth all a-gnashing.

I'm not at sea

Yet still, I may be

When I'm in my indoor pool.

Well, it's really my bath

So sit on that hearth

And you'll learn how Britannia still rules.

My toy boat collection

I make selections

Bring nations together to duel.

Wearing my floaties

I battle with boaties

Transfixed so that I start to drool.  (Slurrrp) Oh, terribly sorry about that!  I get so carried away, you know!  Now, where was I??!!  Oh yes!

We're coming into port

With a cheering escort

And I'm on the bridge looking dashing.

My ship's the Renown

She sails for the Crown

All shipshape and Bristol fashion.

If e'er you'd mock her

To Davy Jones locker

When you've had a damn good lashing.

Descended from Nelson

Well, yes, his bosun

And pirates, with teeth all a-gnashing.

Oh dashed good fun!  And what a jolly old roger Uncle Edgar is!   Yo ho ho, eh!  Well,I think it might be time for a gin and tonic water.

22nd February 0730 hours

Embarked once again with all personnel safely secured on board.  Several of the enlisted men, who had been assumed to have been AWOL were actually found down in one of the workrooms on the lower levels where the engine room is.  They said that they had returned late at night and stumbled on board without the watch seeing them.  They had been carousing in a local bar for most of the day, drinking a particularly potent sample of Egyptian wine.

Once on board they headed for what they assumed were the stairs to their quarters, but blindly arrived where they were, totally disorientated.  They shouted for help for a time but the area they were in was so protected that sound couldn't travel too easily.  They gave up mostly due to delirium and tiredness and fell into a long, deep sleep.  

It was some of the ship's engineers who found them and they were summarily brought in front of their commanding officer and sharply reprimanded.  Ten rounds of the ship at a run interspersed with 100 pushups was the punishment.  A tad harsh, by my standards but then Captain Fortescue-Smythe has a reputation for handing out stinkers, and then sitting watching his victims endure it all.  He often sits with a bell, ringing it on each lap and cheering on the lads as if it were a local sporting carnival!  Certainly not my cup of tea!  Just a few days in the brig to sweat it out is enough punishment, I believe.  But then Captain Fortescue-Smythe's grandfather used to be a member of the infamous Hellfire Club, so that says it all really.

Anyway, the Indian Queen set sail for the Suez Canal, which was a source of great excitement amongst the personnel as no-one amongst us had ever seen such a marvel of man's engineering before.  We were practically all of us hanging on some part of the ship for the first few steps in our progress through the canal.  It was only that Major-General Basilworth came up on deck and considered the men to be a little too idle for his liking that we would've been there to the end.  However, he considered that all the officers should have the men cleaning their rifles and kit, and then doing a spot of drilling on one of the open deck areas at the stern.  Dashed spoilsport if you ask me, but then that's life in the Camel Corps.

The Prague Connection

My aunt on my mother's side, Aunt Hermione, married a Slovakian doctor and was whisked away to Prague to be a wife and mother to three fine daughters.  She and I have always had a constant communication via letters, and occasional visits to the Continent by my good self.  Just recently I received this photograph of a portrait commissioned by my aunt in respect to my exploits.  The photos show two of her servants, one a nanny and the other their cook, holding the portrait.  The local residents of the area had heard of my exploits through conversation with my aunt when they visited her husband's clinic.  They were so enthused about my adventures they asked if they could parade the portrait through the streets around the section of the old city, where my aunt lives, in celebration.  

A most wonderful appreciation, indeed!  I am quite overwhelmed and, well, almost embarrassed really.  But then, as the Colonel, I must take it in my stride.