The Baghdad Railway Club(30)

We both studied the map. There was no mistake to be seen. Out of sheer gentlemanliness, it seemed to me, Shepherd broke the silence:

‘It seems to be absolutely . . .’

‘It’s just that I put an “h” on “Samarrah”,’ I said.

We both looked at the ‘h’. It seemed very tiny and inconsequential, and was evidently worth no further remark for Shepherd said, ‘Well now, how would you like a ride up there?’

I let the map curl up again. ‘Captain Stevens said we might be going.’

‘Do you fancy the trip?’

Did I have any choice in the matter? Instead of putting that question, I enquired, ‘What do we use for motive power, sir?’

‘An engine,’ he said, and this time he was embarrassed at himself, at the smallness of the joke. I knew that any information withheld by Shepherd, or any query deflected, would cause guiltiness in him, so that a fuller disclosure of data would follow. And so it proved. ‘A DS 18,’ he said, ‘to give the technical designation. It’s a rather large German locomotive.’

I nodded. ‘I saw . . .’

But what had I seen? I could not let on I’d been to the station. Once more, he came to my aid: ‘I think you’ll enjoy the run, Jim. The stations along the line could hardly be more varied in their appeal. I believe one or two even have a platform.’

‘Will we go beyond Samarrah?’

‘Oh, I hope so, a little way.’

You’d think we were in for a holiday jaunt.

‘But the line gives out up there,’ I said.

‘It does,’ said Shepherd. ‘Runs into the sand.’

‘Will there be any Turks thereabouts, sir?’

‘We might run into the odd stray patrol or two,’ he said, and he smiled kindly.

He was fishing in his tunic pocket, bringing out smokes. He offered me one, and I looked down at the packet: the couple walking along the beach, the four stars exactly, the unreadable script. There did seem a kind of damnable pride in his face as he offered them, a kind of defiance. But perhaps this brand was common throughout Asia Minor. Perhaps these were the Woodbines of Baghdad. I took one with slightly shaking hands, and Shepherd lit it for me.

‘Now tell me about your long journey,’ he said, perching on the desk. ‘What sort of a voyage did you have?’

He seemed to want all the details, and when I’d run out of them he said, ‘By the way, we have our own Railway Club here in Baghdad.’

‘I saw the notice,’ I said.

‘Come along on Saturday. Anybody can have the floor, as long as they speak on a railway subject. You’ve missed my party piece by the way, luckily for you. I spoke last week.’

‘On what, sir?’

‘Oh, a very out-of-the-way subject: the passenger railways of Turkey.’





Chapter Six


I lunched alone, on a kind of stew with currants in it. I was only one of half a dozen blokes in the canteen, which was in the grand dining room of the Hotel, half of which had been given over to the storage of packing cases. Reaching into the inside pocket of my tunic, and touching a certain envelope that I’d kept close about me since my arrival, I revolved the idea of going off to the British Residency to communicate with Manners, but decided I’d better put in a full day’s work beforehand.

Recrossing the lobby, I saw the police team, and I was itching to ask, ‘What did the station master tell you?’ but discretion prevailed. I walked over to Part One Orders, and there was a new notice: officers were to wear their guns at all times.

Stevens returned to room 227 half an hour after me, and continued writing his letters to the Indian government. After his polite enquiries about my voyage, Shepherd had put me to writing a report on the very Decauville light rail systems he’d been reading about himself. He’d said he wanted to know how they would adapt to desert conditions. I said I didn’t know desert conditions. What I knew was mud. He’d said‚ ‘You will do after Monday,’ and told me to make a start anyhow. It seemed to me that, for all his politeness – and on the face of it, he was about the most considerate officer I’d ever come across – he hadn’t much interest in anything I might write, but that he’d brought me out here because I could drive and fire an engine. I guessed that he’d taken Stevens on for the very same reasons – unless the fellow was his partner in crime.

Shepherd had said I might knock off at about four, and when the time came, I went up to my room, and had a wash. Jarvis had already packed my things prior to our move to new quarters, but there was no sign of him, and I had two hours until our rendezvous on Park Street. After my adventure of the night before, I was all in. I went down to the mess where I put my hands on an electrical fan. The moment I got the thing started, it blew the ash off the cigar of a fellow smoking on the other side of the room. Luckily, he was only a Second Lieutenant. I put my hand up to signal an apology and he waved back as if to say, ‘Don’t mention it, old man.’ Satisfied by this, I immediately went to sleep, and dreamed of what looked like rain clouds appearing over Baghdad, much to the relief of all the men on the ground. Only they were not rain clouds but dirigibles, Turkish ones, and they began dropping bombs. I was awoken by the roar of the motor on one of these dirigibles, which turned out to be the noise of the fan. I turned it off, drank down two glasses of the boiled water, moved over to the window. There was a little less dazzle to the day, and the men were working on the wires again.