Being anxious that my wife should be spared the great heat of a journey to India in July, the hottest month of the year in the Red Sea, and the doctors being very decided in their opinion that I should not return so soon, I had applied for a three months’ extension of leave, and quite calculated on getting it, so our disappointment was great when the answer arrived and I found that, if I took the extension, I should lose my appointment in the Quartermaster-General’s Department.  This, we agreed, was not to be thought of, so there was nothing for it but to face the disagreeable necessity as cheerfully as we could.  We made a dash over to Ireland, said good-bye to our relations, and started for India on the 27th June.

[Illustration:  LADY ROBERTS (WIFE OF SIR ABRAHAM ROBERTS). From a sketch by Carpenter.]

The heat in the Red Sea proved even worse than I had anticipated.  Our captain pronounced it the hottest trip he had ever made.  Twice was the ship turned round to steam against the wind for a short time in order to revive some of the passengers, who were almost suffocated.

We passed the wreck of the Alma, a P. and O. vessel which had struck on a coral reef not far from Mocha.  The wreck had happened in the dead of night, and there had been only time to get the passengers into the boats, in which they were rowed to another reef near at hand; there they had remained for eighty hours in their scanty night garments, and without the smallest shelter, until rescued by a friendly steamer.  The officers and crew were still on the rock when we passed, endeavouring to get up the mails and the passengers’ property.  We supplied them with provisions and water, of which they were badly in need, and then had to leave them in their extremely uncomfortable position.

We could not complain of lack of air after we passed Aden, for we forthwith encountered the south-west monsoon, then at its height, and on entering the Bay of Bengal we experienced something very nearly akin to a cyclone.  We broke our rudder; the lightships, on which a certain number of pilots were always to be found, had all been blown out to sea; and as we had only just sufficient coal to take us up the Hugli when the pilot should appear, we did not dare to keep up steam.  Thus we had to remain at the mercy of the winds and waves for some days, until at length a brig with a pilot on board was sent to look for us, and eventually we arrived in Calcutta, in rather a dilapidated condition, on the 30th July.

We were not cheered by the orders I found awaiting me, which were to proceed to Morar and join Brigadier-General Sir Robert Napier, then in command of the Gwalior district.  Morar in the month of August is one of the hottest places in India, and my wife was considerably the worse for our experiences at sea.  However, a Calcutta hotel never has many attractions, and at that time of year was depressing and uncomfortable to the last degree; in addition, I had rather a severe attack of my old enemy, Peshawar fever, so we started on our journey ‘up country’ with as little delay as possible.