I WAS born at Beyrout, the largest seaport of Syria, in 1864, my father being at that time the British Consul- General there. Prior to the Crimean War — he had lived for many years in Southern Russia, and at the beginning of that war he was appointed Chief Intelligence Officer to the British forces, owing to his thorough knowledge of the Crimea and of the Russian language. After the war he was made British Consul of the Crimea, and while there married my mother, who was the daughter of the Admiral of the Russian Black Sea Fleet.



As my parents spoke Russian together, and I had a Russian nurse, I did not know a word of English when taken to England at the age of four. The only incident I remember on the voyage home is that a flying fish flew on to the deck of the steamer, and one of the officers suspended it from an awning by its tail. The next thing I remember is getting lost at a flower show in the Crystal Palace, where my sister and I had been taken by our Russian nurse. On finding myself deserted by the nurse, who had evidently forgotten me while admiring the flowers with my sister, I started to cry.

This soon collected a number of ladies who all spoke kindly to me, but not being able to understand a word they said, it was impossible for me to tell them where I lived. However, my lungs were pretty powerful, and my bellows soon attracted the nurse, who quickly rescued me and took me home.

On returning to Beyrout I had an English nurse, so from then onwards spoke English, and also learnt a good deal of Arabic.

At the age of ten my mother took me with her to Sevastopol to visit her parents, and I was much impressed by the fact that they lived in a small house in their extensive park, instead of in their large mansion, which had been shot to ruins during the Crimean War.

While there I met a cousin, a boy of my own age.

Our next meeting was at Hong Kong, in 1890, when he was a lieutenant in the Russian Navy ; and I also saw him later on at Moscow in 1908, 1911 and 1913, when he was holding the rank of Colonel. Such a jump in rank as this is not extraordinary in Russia if one has sufficient influence.

Nowadays, when travel in Syria is made easy by railways and good roads, it is difficult to realise that it took three days to reach the ruins of Baalbec.



These ruins impressed me very much, particularly the large blocks of stone in the quarry (one of which is 72 feet long by 12 feet wide and 12 feet high), and the polished red and white marble columns of the small pavilions near the ruins. These columns must have been transported to Baalbec from somewhere across the sea, as there was no marble of that kind in Syria, so I was told.

My father took me to Damascus, and I well remember our visit to Lady Florence Digby, who received us in an arbour formed by a huge grape vine covered with bunches of luscious grapes.

On looking back on my life, I seem to have ridden donkeys and horses from an early age, and frequently accompanied my parents on their visits to the Governor of the Lebanon at his palace at Bteddin, built on a precipitous spur projecting from a huge mountain.



Between the palace and the mountain stands a large and well-garrisoned Turkish fortress.

From Bteddin we would go on to Mukhtara and visit the Druse Princes in their palace, surrounded by magnificent gardens. In front of the palace there was a large meidan or parade ground, where the game of jreed is played. This is something like the game called " Baiting the tiger." The druses play jreed riding on their magnificent horses, using an oak staff instead of a spear. Their horsemanship is wonderful and they are able to dodge a staff hurled at them while going at full gallop.

The game of jreed is played in the following manner :- Two parties of horsemen of equal strength line up abreast at each end of the meidan, each rider carrying a staff of about four feet in length. When the two sides are ready, the leader of one side gallops forward, and when in the middle of the meidan hurls his staff at the opposing side, from which a horseman immediately charges forward, and endeavours to hit the retreating horseman who has made the attack ; and in this way every man has his turn to hurl his staff at an antagonist, each side making their best effort to score the greatest number of hits as decided by an umpire, who watches to see whether anyone crosses the central line when hurling his staff. This constitutes a fault.

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It is not unusual for a meidan to be enclosed by a wall, and it is wonderful to see how a horseman, while tearing along at full gallop, with his eyes turned to watch the staff hurled at him, turns his horse only just in time to save himself from crashing against the wall at his end of the ground. Nowhere have I seen the game of jreed better played than at Mukhtara, where the display of both horses and horsemanship was magnificent.

When I was twelve years old my father gave me a horse of my own, which I thoroughly enjoyed riding on the Lebanon during the summer months. The animal was not as quiet as my father thought it was.

One day he sent me to a neighbouring village with a message to deliver to a friend of his who lived there.

I found him on the point of starting off on a riding picnic with a number of other people, and was invited to join the party. I gladly accepted, on the condition that my host changed horses with me, explaining that he, being a grown man, would be able to manage my horse better than I. He smiled, thinking it rather a joke, and did as I asked. On arrival at our destination his wife told me that my horse had nearly killed her husband, so I promptly hunted him up and apologised, and insisting on riding my own horse back. I was not afraid of riding the animal, only while on his back found it impossible to talk to anyone, as he was uncontrollable when near other horses. He never threw me, but I narrowly escaped going over precipices on several occasions, when we had a disagreement while on some narrow mountain path.

British men-of-war frequently visited Beyrout when I was a boy, and I spent a great deal of time on board them, for I was fond of the sea, and my parents favoured the idea of my going to sea as soon as I was old enough. Although I had the greatest possible admiration for the men-of-war and their officers and men, I could not bear the thought of the restrictions and discipline of life in the Navy, which was a great disappointment to my mother.

In 1876, when I was twelve years old and studying at the American College, it was decided that I should be sent the following year to the Thames Nautical Training College H.M.S. Worcester, for a three-year course before going to sea. As I had not yet acquired the art of swimming, even though my friends had tried hard enough to teach me, my parents discussed the matter between themselves, and decided to make me a member of a swimming club and get a professional to teach me how to swim. This idea did not appeal to me, so I decided to be my own teacher. At four o'clock the next morning I got up and told the butler that I required food for breakfast and lunch (I usually took my lunch to college with me to save the long walk home at midday), saying that I was going to college early that morning.

After leaving the house I walked to the seashore and bought two gourds from a fisherman who had just taken in his nightlines, and then hurried to the college to be in time to accompany several of the boarding students who took an early morning swim in the sea.

They did not know I could not swim, so on reaching the rocky seashore I watched them all take a header and swim away, and then tied the gourds by a string round my body under my arms, jumped into deep water and was soon able to make such good progress that I could discard the gourds and have a try without them. By the time my companions had returned from their swim I had every confidence in myself while in the water, and have had ever since. I do not relate this incident as being anything out of the way, but it may serve as encouragement to those who cannot swim and are too timid to try.

My father, being a Consul-General, had a flagstaff in his garden on which I spent much time performing acrobatic feats on the Jacob's ladder and crosstrees, to the amusement of the Arabs passing along the road.

Needless to say, I always waited till my parents were out, as, naturally, they would have been afraid of my falling. This I always considered unreasonable, as they had decided that I should follow the sea as a career.

One of the principal events in Beyrout while I was a boy was the construction of the Beyrout Waterworks by a British engineer named Maxwell. This was considered a great achievement, as the water had to be brought from the Dog River, 10 miles to the north of Beyrout. This river receives its main supply of water from a subterranean stream, which joins the river through a large hole in its rocky bed a few miles from its mouth. The quality of the water is excellent.

Mr. Maxwell was very keen to find the source of this subterranean stream. After a considerable search, and with the help of some natives, he discovered a small hole in the rocky side of the mountain at a good distance from the river. This hole was particularly difficult to discover, as it was behind a mass of rocks, and the opening was so small that a full-grown man could only crawl into it with the utmost difficulty.

Once through the hole one came to a rocky ledge in a very large cave, full of stalactites and stalagmites.

The stream could be seen in the distance with the aid of the powerful light cast by burning magnesium.

Even I, a boy of twelve, found it difficult to squeeze through the hole. We did not go as far as the stream, as it was too difficult, on account of the rocks and the darkness. Mr. Maxwell, however, made several expeditions up the stream, and he and his party supported themselves on small rafts made by securing a plank to two inflated goatskins. These skins are much used in the East by water carriers. He used to go several miles upstream, passing through many caves on the way and gaining much useful information. Unfortunately, he ruined his health by so much exposure to wet and cold while underground.

Near the Dog River there are several large slabs of rock on which the Assyrians carved figures at the time of Nebuchadnezzar.

Another engineering feat performed during my boyhood was the construction of the Suez Canal. Mr. Hadden, one of the British engineers, used often to come and see us when on leave. He made a great impression on me, being the tallest man whom I have ever seen. He once took me to a pantomime at the Drury Lane Theatre, and towered so high above everyone else that he created quite a sensation. At last the time came for me to bid my friends goodbye, and I was taken to Port Said by my mother and handed over to the care of the captain of a steamer leaving for London, where I was met by a friend of ours whose son had been a Worcester cadet.