British -- Asia -- Fiction; Women physicians -- Fiction
Georgia acknowledged thankfully the wisdom of Lady Haigh’s remarks,
and when the day arrived on which the actual journey to Kubbet-ul-Haj
was to begin, she put on the _burka_ without a murmur. The start was
an imposing sight, for most of the officers in the fort accompanied
the Mission as far as the Ethiopian frontier, and the rest of the
garrison lined the walls and sped the parting guests with a rousing
cheer. The servants and baggage had started earlier in the day, and
when they had been caught up a halt was made for lunch, after which
the travellers delivered themselves into the hands of the body of
Ethiopian troops who had been sent to meet them on the frontier and
escort them to the capital, and the British officers returned to Fort
Rahmat-Ullah. Dick North came riding up just in time to fall into his
place in the cavalcade, and the long array of riders and
baggage-animals took their way across the frontier.
The cavalry escort, of which one portion headed the procession, while
the remainder brought up the rear, was not calculated, so far as its
outward aspect was concerned, to allay any apprehensions that might
have been fluttering the breasts of the timid. Its members were wild,
reckless-looking fellows, evidently ready to go anywhere and do
anything, but apparently quite as well qualified to rob their convoy
as to protect it. Uniformity of dress or accoutrements among them
there was none; but they resembled one another in that they were all
fierce of face, all unbridled of speech, all extremely dirty, and all
armed to the teeth with a wonderfully miscellaneous collection of
weapons. It seemed almost madness to take ladies into the heart of a
country which, until very lately, had been actively hostile, under the
guardianship of such men as these, and the younger members of the
Mission felt their hearts sink suddenly with an unwonted feeling of
apprehension as they took their last look at the fort--that isolated
outpost of Britain and civilisation on the borders of barbarism. But
Sir Dugald’s impassive face betrayed no emotion whatever as he halted
beside the track to allow the caravan to file past him, and the
younger men took comfort as they remembered that their leader was one
who, although he had not hitherto had the opportunity of
distinguishing himself in a wide field, was reputed never to have made
a mistake in the many minor but still important duties with which he
had been intrusted.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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