A SOLDIER OF THE WEST INDIA REGIMENT.

King Country Chronicle, Volume V, Issue 357, 3 May 1911, Page 6

A SOLDIER OF THE WEST INDIA REGIMENT.

Mr. Henry Kirke, formerly an official in British Guinea, high in the colonial service, relates an adventure the comedy of which might at any moment have turned to tragedy. It was at a time of serious disturbances in the colony. Rioting had occurred in several places, and every precaution had been taken against a fresh outbreak. Mr. Kirke had issued a password and a countersign, and the sentries received strict orders to shoot anyone who attempted to pass without giving the word. That night, says Mr. Kirk, I had been dining out of town, and was returning cheerfully to my quarters about 11 o'clock, when I was suddenly confronted by a black sentry, v\iio brought his rifle down to the ordar, and cried out : "Who go dere ?"

I was somewhat startled, for I had Forgotten the sentries, and, what was of much more importance, I had forgotten the password. I knew that the sentries were picked men, generally Africans who had served in some West Indian regiment, and who were :ioted for their strict obedience to orders. So, I knew if this sentry had been ordered to shoot anyone attempting to pass without giving the word he would do so. I attempted to temporise. "Look here, my man," I said, "you know me." "What de word ?" shouted , the sentry, rattling his arm. That was just what I wanted to know. I heard the man cock his rifle, and knew that he would let drive in another minute ; so I made an undignified strategic movement to the rear, so as to place the inspector's house, which stood near, between me and the enemy. Satisfied by this manoeuvre that I was a dangerous character, the sentry began to stalk me round the building, with his gun ready for action. The instant I got round the corner nf the inspector's house I bolted up the back steps and broke in upon the astonished inspector just as he ivas getting into bed. I explained my dilemma, and he save me the password. Then, approaching the window, I peeped out very cautiously toward my friend, who was prowling round the house to have a pot shot at me. I shouted the word to him, and later when I went out with the inspector, I explained the circumstances of the case, gave him a shilling, and told him he was a first-rate sentry.