And then eighteen hundred more warriors filed down the quays and, like Mr. Jim Hawkins, came aboard, sir.  Now most of these were as good fellows as you could wish for; but they were landsmen, such as never go down to the sea in ships.  A large proportion, indeed, had never seen the sea before viewing it at Cape Town. (South Africa is a fair-sized territory.) Very few of them were good sailors.  It is not a man’s fault that he is not a good sailor; nor is he to blame for knowing little of the ways that make for cleanliness and comfort under even the most trying conditions on shipboard.  But on the whole we did not enjoy that four days’ voyage to Walvis Bay.  It was a case of bedlam as to noise, and “muck in” and take what you can get.

Though my knowledge of organisation for a campaign is not great, I would suggest that for campaign work the only kind of ship used should be a vessel absolutely and completely fitted up as a troopship.  If the ships the Government used for the South-West campaign transport had all been fitted up uncompromisingly as “troopers” I fancy we should have fared better.

At 8 a.m. on the 9th we arrived at Walvis Bay.  General Botha, who, with his Chief of Staff, A.D.C.’s, etc., had embarked at the Cape on the auxiliary cruiser Armadale Castle, arrived at Walvis later in the morning.  We spent the day on board the Galway Castle awaiting orders and the disembarkation of horses.

Since the beginning of the operations in South-West Africa the world has been flooded with descriptions of Walvis Bay; at least I have seen two books with long descriptions of the place, and more than a dozen articles on the subject.  I shall not add to this list by any long (and assuredly unconvincing) attempt at a new picture.  When you have left the green-covered kopjes of the Cape a few days before and come to anchor in Walvis Bay on a cold morning you think you have reached No-man’s-land after a fast voyage.  It is a first impression only.  The place is desolate enough; it suggests the Sahara run straight into the sea, or the discomforting dreariness of Punta Arenas, in Patagonia.

But first impressions are not everything.  Walvis Bay is desolate; a study in yellow ochre sands, burnt sienna duns, tin shanties veiled in hot desert winds, and a sea that seldom knows anything more than a ripple.  But that is the point.  Walvis Bay is nothing now—­but it is a bay.  As a fact, it looks to be one of the finest natural harbours in the world.  With the South-West interior developing in the future, Walvis Bay should have something to look forward to.

[Illustration:  Before the Advance.  General Botha photographed with the Red Cross Sisters]

[Illustration:  General Botha and Staff alighting for an Inspection.  (The famous Brigadier-General Brits, who trekked to Namutoni, is the fourth figure from the right.)]