On the Road to Bagdad: A Story of Townshend's Gallant Advance on the TigrisBrereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
General
On the Road to Bagdad: A Story of Townshend's Gallant Advance on the Tigris
Brereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
World War, 1914-1918 -- Juvenile fiction
Let us look over the wall of the fortress, where a number of officers
had by now joined the stout Major, and take stock of that view which he
had proclaimed to be "exhilarating". True enough, it was one of those
marvellous views only to be obtained on the frontier of India. The fort
stood perched on a projecting eminence, around which nature, guided by
the active hands of many a succeeding garrison of soldiers, had grafted
a most enchanting garden. A stream trickled from above and behind the
fort, and descending the gentle slopes of the mountain, and broadening
as it came, splashed through the very heart of the cantonment gardens,
and sent off a broad canal of shimmering water down beside the main
street. From that point it splashed over the edge of the precipice just
beneath the fortress, and, tinkling musically as it went, splashed its
way to the bottom. You could hear it from the roof of the fort. Often
enough the sun's rays, glancing through the mists and spray thrown up by
the fall, formed a most gorgeous rainbow; while in the height of summer,
when the sun, then almost overhead, poured down such furious heat that
the roof of the fortress glowed and almost simmered, then that same
misty spray would be wafted up by a cooling draught from the valley
below, and would fall upon the blistering skins of the officers who
gasped beneath the veranda.
Yes, even in those hill forts it can be hot enough, and where the ----
Sikhs were quartered there were seasons when, not long after the sun had
risen, no sane white man dared to venture abroad.
And what a valley it was below! Rugged and winding, narrowing here and
there, till from the height above it looked as though a wagon could not
be driven along it, and then widening most unexpectedly and suddenly
till there came a huge saucer, as it were, in which a whole city could
have been safely deposited. Trees clad the side of the mountain as it
descended into the valley, trees which, scattered at first, grew later
in thick clumps till they became almost a forest, and which, severed by
the river which wound its way through the valley, had taken root again
on its farther bank, and went straggling up the opposite heights till
almost the snow-line was reached. Those heights perhaps provided the
summit of grandeur to this magnificent scene. Wooded below, as we have
seen, they became rugged and broken and rocky as they ascended, till
there was presented a row of broken irregular pinnacles, which cut along
the sky-line right opposite the fortress, and which presented day in
and day out, even on those days when the sun's rays bore down so
relentlessly upon the roof of the fortress, a continuous line of snow,
hollowed here and there into deep crevasses and gullies, presenting most
gorgeous blue shades in the depths of a hundred dimples, and showing
elsewhere a smooth, unbroken surface of light, which altered only when
north-eastern gales were blowing.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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