The autobiography of Sir Henry Morton Stanley, G.C.B.Stanley, Henry M. (Henry Morton)
History
The autobiography of Sir Henry Morton Stanley, G.C.B.
Stanley, Henry M. (Henry Morton)
Africa, Central -- Biography; Explorers -- Africa -- Biography; Stanley, Henry M. (Henry Morton), 1841-1904
Like all new recruits, we carried a number of things that veterans
dispense with: for instance, keepsakes, and personal treasures; mine
were a daguerreotype of my adopted father, and a lock of his grey
hair,--very trivial and valueless to others, but my own peculiar
treasures, carried in my knapsack to be looked at every Sunday morning
when we smartened up. With these, toilet articles, soap, changes of
under-clothing, camp-shoes, etc., besides extra uniform, and blankets,
made up our luggage, which, with heavy musket, bayonet-accoutrements,
and canteen of water, weighed about sixty pounds, and more, in some
cases. For growing and lean youths this was a tremendous weight; and,
during the second hour, the sense of oppression and soreness rapidly
increased; but, excepting more frequent changes of the musket from
shoulder to shoulder, we bated nothing of our resolve to endure.
After the second halt we were sensibly lamer. The gravel created
blisters, and the warm mud acted like a poultice on the feet. The
military erectness gave way to a weary droop, and we leaned forward
more. We were painfully scalded, restlessly shifted our weapons, and
tried scores of little experiments, hustled our cartridge-pouches, inch
by inch, then from back to front, from right to left; tugged at our
breast-straps, eased our belts, drank copious draughts of water; and
still the perspiration rolled in a shower down our half-blinded faces,
and the symptoms of collapse became more and more pronounced.
Finally, the acutest point of endurance was reached, and nature
revolted. Our feet were blistered, our agonies were unendurable, and,
despite official warning and menace, we hopped to the road-side, whipped
off our boots to relieve our burning feet; after a little rest, we rose
and limped after the company. But the column had stretched out to a
tremendous length with its long wagon-train, and to overtake our friends
seemed hopeless. As we limped along, the still untired soldiers mocked
and jeered at us, and this was very hard to endure. But, by and by, the
stragglers became more numerous; the starch appeared to be taken out of
the strongest, and, the longer the march continued, the greater was the
multitude of the weary, who crawled painfully in the rear of the column.
Had the Little Rock ladies witnessed our arrival at camp late at night,
we should have been shamed for ever. But, fortunately, they knew nothing
of this; and blessing the night which hid our roasted faces and sorry
appearance, we had no sooner reached the precincts of the camp than we
embraced the ground, pains and aches darting through every tortured
limb, feet blistered and bleeding, our backs scorched, and our shoulders
inflamed. No bed that I had ever rested on gave me a tithe of the
pleasure afforded me now by the cold, damp pasture-land.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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