revealed a workshop brilliantly lighted. Out of this stepped an Arab
with a lamp in his hand, and gave us an answering shout We stepped into
the light. I don't know which was most surprised, the native at seeing
such curious figures staggering under large bags through the mud, or we,
at beholding in the beam of light from the shed a magic vignette of
palms, Eastern buildings and a large South Western Railway engine.

Brown was delighted.

"The slave of the lamp," he cried, "calling up spirits from the vasty
mud. I don't believe this engine is real, but it will do to get us into
Baghdad."

And it _did_. We found a soldier driver and a stoker, got leave from
headquarters to use the engine to run into Baghdad West, hurled our bags
on to the coal in the tender and were transported unscathed by further
mud to the quay by the waters of the Tigris. It was too dark to see
much. A multitude of steamboats and mahailas lined the shore. The river
was in flood and looked black and forbidding, and it was impossible to
see across to the other side. The only light was supplied by a few
electric lamps at intervals along the road. It still rained dismally and
we made for a canteen close at hand. Here we felt quite at home, for
there were several other arrivals as muddy as we were and even worse.
Considering this was only a restaurant attached to a rest camp, we fared
very well. Our baggage we left there and set out on foot to try and
reach Navy House, which was the other side of the river. There were two
boat-bridges we were told, and the upper one would lead us into the
right quarter. The old Navy House, near to G.H.Q., was now used by some
one else, and the British Navy, shrunk to very small proportions as
far as Baghdad was concerned, "carried on" in a back street.