Chapter XII (2)

"I had long wished to visit Iceland on a nesting-trip, and in
the early spring of 1913, wrote asking Selous if he would come.
To my great joy I found that he had already arranged to go
there, and it was soon fixed up that we should go together. What
a glorious time we had, and how much I owe to his companionship,
invariable good temper and knowledge of travel! The ship we went
out in was a smelly beastly thing, the weather cold, sea rough
and food vile. The latter bothered Fred not at all, he often
said he could live on any food that would support a human being,
and from subsequent experience I believe he was right. He liked
some things better than others, but anything would do. I only
saw him beaten once; we had had an eight-hour ride in vile
weather, at last we arrived at the farm where we were to spend
the night. Fred loved meat, and our host produced a plate of
stuff that might have been thin slices of mutton. Fred attacked
it, and I watched developments! In place of the Aldermanic smile
I expected, the face contracted, the mouth opened, a sharp word
escaped, and later on the first course of his dinner turned out
to be pickled Guillemot of the previous season! But to return to
our ship. Fred didn't smoke, the rest of the company did to a
man, rank Danish cigars, which made even a good sailor wish he
had never left home. We were driven into the dining saloon, the
only place where there was some peace, though the smell of
ponies and cod took the place of vile cigars. Here Fred used to
spend his day reading, his favourite book being 'Tess of the
D'Urbervilles.' One day he complained bitterly of the light, and
for the first time I noticed that this wonderful man was reading
small print without glasses--aged, I think, sixty-three, and as
long-sighted as anyone I ever met. All things come to an end in
time, and after what seemed a month, and was really three days,
we arrived at Reykjavik, starting the following day on our trip.
The first trek was a short one, only twenty miles, but quite
long enough for me, as next day I could hardly climb on the
pony, whereas Selous jumped on like a boy, and during the whole
of our journey, above 1000 miles on pony back, never once felt
stiffness. We did well from an ornithological point of view,
finding some forty-six different kinds of nests, and bringing
home over 1000 eggs, _not one_ of which was broken, thanks
mostly to the careful packing of our friend. Selous had the
greatest objection to getting his feet wet unnecessarily, and
when crossing those rapid rough rivers would take his feet out
of the stirrups and somehow curl them up behind him, it was a
wonderful performance, and how he kept his balance with the pony
stumbling and regaining his feet as only an Icelander can,
fairly beat me. Once, when crossing an extra bad place, full of
boulders and in a flooded condition, his pony got on the top of
a flat rock under water; when he went to crawl down on the other
side, there was the inevitable hole from back-wash--down went the
pony, the jerk pulling Fred over on to his ears--I thought he
must have fallen into the boiling cauldron--No; a short
scramble, the pony righted himself and there was Fred as
peaceful as ever, didn't even look round! When we were safe on
the far side, I said to him, 'If you had gone off then, you
would not have stopped till you got to the sea.' His reply was,
'Yes, but I didn't.'

"I was very anxious to get on to the Island of Grimsey, one of
the European breeding places of the Little Auk. It is situated
some sixty-five miles from Akureyri, and I was told motor
fishing-boats went there sometimes. I told our guide to
telephone on and find out if such a boat could be hired, the
reply came back that a small one would be available. The terms
were settled, and the boat was to be ready the following
evening, to start by 9 p.m. About 8 o'clock, we went to the quay
to inspect our ship, when to my horror I was shown a
single-cylinder thing not as large as a moderate Thames
pleasure-launch, a free-board about 10 inches, no cabin, no
deck. I'm bound to confess my heart failed me, it didn't seem
quite good enough to trust ourselves to a sixty-five mile trip
in a little tub with two youths (one of whom had a withered
hand) and a very doubtful looking compass! Not so Fred, he never
raised the least objection to a North Sea trip in a ship
dependent on a single plug, which might become sooty any moment!
In due time we started, and after watching the midnight sun, my
shipmate remarked, 'I think I shall turn in.' 'Turn in where?'
'Oh, the cockpit will do.' It was full of rusty old chains, he
could just get into it and lie curled up in a sort of knot on
the rug, and here he passed a dreamless night, never moving
until I called him as the boat touched land about 8.30 a.m. On
landing, the first thing was to find out where the Little Auk
might breed. The Parson told us he knew a man skilled in such
matters. With a total population of 72 souls, 13 of which were
belonging to the Parson, it ought not to be difficult to find
the tastes of any unit of the congregation (especially after
eighteen years' residence). In a short time a fisherman arrived
with a coil of rope and a crowbar; the latter he drove into the
ground, tied the rope to it and heaved the end over the rock.
Our friendly Parson then waved towards the sea, remarking,
'There you are, how do you like it? The birds breed in the rocks
at the bottom.' Honestly I did _not_ like it, but Fred remarked,
'Thank you, that will do well,' and without another word seized
the rope and was soon at the bottom. I _had_ to follow, the
Parson looking down from the top very much like the picture of
Nebuchadnezzar looking down at Daniel in the lions' den. The
Little Auk was not there, only Puffins inhabited that part of
the island, and we had to regain the top as best we could. Later
on we were shown a spot where the bird really did breed, and two
eggs rewarded us for the long journey. We left again the same
evening in a thick fog, Selous curling himself up once more on
the rusty chains, and utterly oblivious to the fact that it was
just a toss-up if our helmsman ever found the mainland again or
not. A short time after this event we were resting at a
farmhouse, and as usual asked if the boys knew of any nests. One
of them replied that there was a Merlin's nest with five eggs in
some rocks a few miles from the farm. Off we started, and all
went well until we came to the face of a nasty crumbling steep
place. The farm-boy, with only a pair of shoes made from raw
sheepskin, made no bones about it and dashed up to the top. I
was next, and after going up a certain distance could find no
foothold and had to stop where I was. Selous was a little below
me, and, when he reached my none too comfortable seat, I
suggested that it was no place for me, and that the boy who was
at the nest might as well bring down the eggs. This was not
Fred's way of doing things, he simply remarked, 'I think I'll go
a little further.' He did, right up into the nest, returning
with the five eggs, and this too with a pair of long, heavy
Norwegian field-boots on. I felt a proper weakling, but our
friend never once rubbed it in by word or deed. Of side he had
none, and the possibility of hurting anyone's feelings was
absolutely repugnant to him _always_. During our long rides in
Iceland, he told me many things about his life in Africa in the
earlier days. How I wish I could have taken down the stories he
related! To hear him talk was like listening to someone reading
a book. He was never at a loss for a word or the name of a
place. Perhaps we would have been riding together in silence for
some time, then Fred would turn round with the remark, 'Do you
know,' he then would start and tell me something of his early
days in Africa, what may never have been published, things he
did for which _others_ got the praise. I fear this most
unselfish of men was far too often made use of. Not that Selous
did not see through the schemes of various impostors; he did,
but as he would never have done a dirty trick to a living soul,
he could not believe they would to him. His fondness for tea was
a fine advertisement for this indigestible drink. He told me
that in his early camping days in Africa, he used to throw a
handful of tea in the pot before starting off to hunt, let it
simmer all day, freshening it with another handful in the
evening. The tea-leaves were never emptied! The first time he
stayed with me I saw him making very bad weather of a glass of
champagne; on asking if he would prefer something else, the
prompt reply came--'Tea.' Ever after that he was provided with
his pet drink, and it used to interest me to see how he
invariably left the spoon in the cup, a relic of old veldt days
where manners were unknown. Fred's ideas on food were different
to most people's. One evening after a wretched eight hours' ride
in pouring cold rain, just as we neared the farm where we were
to rest, I said, 'How would you like to dine with me at the Ritz
to-night? A little clear soup, a grilled sole, lamb cutlets and
green peas, mushrooms on toast and a bottle of Champagne 94?'
'Thanks very much, but if I had my choice of what I should like
best, it would be good fat moose and tea.'

"I think it was not generally known that Selous held strong
views about what he called Psychic Force, for during the whole
of our long friendship I only once heard him let himself go on
this subject, and I am bound to confess that coming from a man
like him whose every word was truth, anyone who heard him relate
what he had seen take place in his own home with only his
brothers and sisters present, could not but help owning that he
was in the presence of something beyond his understanding. His
conversation was always worth listening to, but like all brave
men, it was difficult to get him to talk. If he liked those
present, he would often delight his audience and yarn on for
hours, if he didn't, he was civility and politeness itself, but
no yarns! His little sayings, without _an atom_ of side, always
amused me. The last time but one that I saw him when on leave, I
remarked on his close-cropped beard. 'Yes,' he said, 'it looked
so white in the bush, they seemed as if they were always
shooting at it.'

"When war broke out I had not seen him for some little time. I
was killing rabbits in the park, and on looking up saw Fred. He
was furious, he had hoped to be sent to France as a 'Guide,' but
the scheme fell through, and he feared he would not get a job.
How cross he was! Shortly after I received a wire that he was
coming over to lunch. He arrived radiant as a boy home from
school, the reason being that he was to go to Africa with a
contingent of 150 men with the rank of lieutenant, at the age of
sixty-three! And yet there are conscientious shirkers who _also_
call themselves 'Englishmen.' The last time I saw him he lunched
here on the way from Gloucester when he had been to say good-bye
to his boy in the Flying Corps, and was just starting for his
return to Africa. In the midst of all he had to do, and the rush
of settling his affairs, he heard of our own trouble. Sitting
down at once, he found time to write one of the most
sympathetic, charming letters one pal may write to another. It
came straight from that great heart which knew no fear, but
loved his neighbour far better than himself."

Of the trip to Iceland Selous writes to Chapman (July 26th, 1913):--

"Just a line to tell you that Heatley Noble and I got back from
Iceland a few days ago. We had a lot of cold, disagreeable
weather, but got a nice lot of eggs; indeed, practically
everything that one can get in Iceland, except the Purple
Sandpiper. When we got to where they were, it was too late, and
we only found a pair with young. We got some eggs which were
taken a fortnight earlier. We found the Red-necked Pharalope
breeding in hundreds at Myvatn and other places, and we also
took several clutches of Grey Pharalope which we found breeding
in some numbers in two districts. We got all the Iceland ducks
at and near Myvatn, including the Harlequin, Barrow's Golden
Eye, Scaup, Long-tailed Duck, Scoter and several others. Whooper
Swans were plentiful in some parts of the south and west, but
not in the north, and we saw a good many Great Northern Divers,
and got several clutches of eggs. We went out to the island of
Grimsey, thirty miles north of the north coast of Iceland and
just within the Arctic circle, and got the eggs of the Little
Auk there; and also Snow Buntings, which were extraordinarily
abundant on the island. Redwings and Mealy Redpolls we got in
the birch scrub in the north. But I will tell you all about our
trip when we meet. The boys came home on Wednesday, and we are
all going to Scotland on August 9th. I don't yet know when the
show will come on at which I shall have to speak, but I hope
that it will not be before October. I found the Sandpipers' and
Wheatears' eggs on my arrival home."

In August and September he went to Scotland for the grouse-shooting, which he enjoyed, but which never seemed to fill the place in his mind of Africa. He was always thinking of the land of sunshine, and says to Chapman (September 9th, 1913):--

"During the long waits at grouse-driving the other day, I was
always wishing myself in the forests on the slopes of Mount
Kenia, collecting butterflies, for there every moment was full
of excitement. I am sorry to tell you that my dear old mother's
health--she is now in her eighty-eighth year--is such that it
will henceforth be impossible for me to leave England again on
any long trip during her lifetime. She is not ill, but she has
lost strength terribly during the last three months, and I do
not think her life can be much further prolonged. So now all
hope of going to the Sudan this winter is gone, and as at my age
every year tells heavily against me, I doubt whether I shall
ever get a giant Eland for the Natural History Museum."

Abel Chapman at this time asked Selous to go with him to the Sudan, but Selous could not go then, as he had business with his mother's will, but suggested he might possibly join him in February, 1914, down the Nile below the sudd.

In November, 1913, he went to Rugby to give a lecture, and to see his boy Freddy, of whom he was very proud. To Chapman he says:--

"I went there yesterday (Rugby) to see the football match
against Cheltenham College. Freddy played for Rugby. He has
played in every out match for the school this term, against the
Old Guard, the Oxford A, the old Rugbeians, and Cheltenham
College, so I think he is now definitely in the first fifteen.
As he is now only fifteen years of age, and will not be sixteen
till April 21st next, I think that is rather good; indeed, I
think he must be the youngest boy in the school fifteen, and so
may some day be Captain of the Rugby fifteen. He plays forward,
and weighed 11 stone 10 lbs."

Young Fred Selous was a true son of his father, and very like him in many ways. He had the same charm and modesty of manner, and had he lived would have gone far, and no doubt made his mark in the world. But it was not to be, for he gave his life for his country on January 4th, 1918, on the same day one year later than the death of his father. He was educated at Bilton Grange and Rugby, where he proved to be an excellent athlete, being in the Running VIII, and in 1915 Captain of the Rugby XV. He entered Sandhurst in September, 1915, and on leaving in April, 1916, was gazetted to the Royal East Surrey Regiment and attached to the R.F.C. Very soon he developed exceptional ability as a flying officer. In July, 1916, he went to the front and was awarded both the Military Cross and the Italian Silver Medal of Military Valour. My friend, Lieutenant Edward Thornton, was flying close to Freddy Selous on the fatal day, and states:--

"I was up at 15,000 ft. over the German lines, when I saw
Captain Selous take a dive at a German machine some 2000 feet
below. What actually happened I do not know, but all at once I
saw both wings of the machine collapse, and he fell to the earth
like a stone."

The major commanding Freddy's squadron thus wrote to his bereaved mother:--

"It is a severe blow to the squadron to lose him, for he was
beloved by officers and men alike. In fact, his popularity
extended to a much greater area than his own aerodrome. In the
short time that I have known him I have been struck with the
courage and keenness of your son--always ready for his jobs, and
always going about his work with the cheeriest and happiest of
smiles. He was the life and soul of the mess."

The second son of Selous and his wife is Harold Sherborne Selous, who will be nineteen in October, 1918. He was educated at Radley College, and is at present in the Officers' Cadet Battalion at Pirbright, and expects to take a commission shortly.

FOOTNOTES:

[58] The collection of Birds and Mammals made by the Roosevelt expedition is now for the most part in the American Museum of Natural History at New York and at Washington. It is probably the best collection ever made by one expedition in Africa, and the book which the President wrote--"African Game Trails"--will always remain one of the best works of reference on the subject.

[59] President Roosevelt realised his hopes. In two days, between Sir Alfred Pease's farm and the railway (Kapiti Plains), he and his son Kermit killed seven lions. They also killed several others in the Sotik.

[60] Mr. Edward North Buxton also did much to help the President in his forthcoming trip.

[61] Selous gave a full account of his trip in articles in the "Field," July-September, 1911.

[62] George Grey, brother of Lord Grey of Falloden, an excellent hunter and charming personality. He was killed by a lion on Sir Alfred Pease's estate in 1910.

[63] Selous, like all other good sportsmen, cherished a warm appreciation for the "Field" newspaper. Mr. J. E. Harting, the Natural History and Shooting Editor, was an old and much valued friend.

[64] See "The Field," June 8th, 1912.

[65] She died peacefully in 1913.