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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:18:45 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/2227-0.txt b/2227-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b2a1843 --- /dev/null +++ b/2227-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7292 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Soldiers Three, Part II., by Rudyard Kipling + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Soldiers Three, Part II. + +Author: Rudyard Kipling + +Release Date: June, 2000 [EBook #2227] +Last Updated: March 9, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SOLDIERS THREE, PART II. *** + + + + +Produced by Bill Stoddard + + + + + + +SOLDIERS THREE + +Part II. + +By Rudyard Kipling + + + +CONTENTS + + “LOVE-O'-WOMEN”--from “Many Inventions” + THE BIG DRUNK DRAF' + THE MUTINY OF THE MAVERICKS + THE MAN WHO WAS + ONLY A SUBALTERN + IN THE MATTER OF A PRIVATE + THE LOST LEGION--from “Many Inventions” + THE DRUMS OF THE FORE AND AFT + JUDSON AND THE EMPIRE--from “Many Inventions” + A CONFERENCE OF THE POWERS--from “Many Inventions” + + + + +'LOVE-O'WOMEN' + + A lamentable tale of things + Done long ago, and ill done. + +The horror, the confusion, and the separation of the murderer from +his comrades were all over before I came. There remained only on the +barrack-square the blood of man calling from the ground. The hot sun had +dried it to a dusky gold-beater-skin film, cracked lozenge-wise by the +heat, and as the wind rose each lozenge, rising a little, curled up at +the edges as if it were a dumb tongue. Then a heavier gust blew all away +down wind in grains of dark-coloured dust. It was too hot to stand in +the sunshine before breakfast. The men were all in barracks talking the +matter over. A knot of soldiers' wives stood by one of the entrances +to the married quarters, while inside a woman shrieked and raved with +wicked filthy words. + +A quiet and well-conducted sergeant had shot down in broad daylight +just after early parade one of his own corporals, had then returned +to barracks and sat on a cot till the guard came for him. He would, +therefore, in due time be handed over to the High Court for trial. +Further, but this he could hardly have considered in his scheme of +revenge, he would horribly upset my work; for the reporting of the trial +would fall on me without a relief. What that trial would be like I knew +even to weariness. There would be the rifle carefully uncleaned, with +the fouling marks about breech and muzzle, to be sworn to by half a +dozen superfluous privates; there would be heat, reeking heat, till the +wet pencil slipped sideways between the fingers; and the punkah would +swish and the pleaders would jabber in the verandahs, and his Commanding +Officer would put in certificates of the prisoner's moral character, +while the jury would pant and the summer uniforms of the witnesses would +smell of dye and soaps; and some abject barrack-sweeper would lose his +head in cross-examination, and the young barrister who always defended +soldiers' cases for the credit that they never brought him, would say +and do wonderful things, and would then quarrel with me because I had +not reported him correctly. At the last, for he surely would not be +hanged, I might meet the prisoner again, ruling blank account-forms in +the Central Jail, and cheer him with the hope of a wardership in the +Andamans. + +The Indian Penal Code and its interpreters do not treat murder, under +any provocation whatever, in a spirit of jest. Sergeant Raines would +be very lucky indeed if he got off with seven years, I thought. He had +slept the night upon his wrongs, and had killed his man at twenty yards +before any talk was possible. That much I knew. Unless, therefore, +the case was doctored a little, seven years would be his least; and I +fancied it was exceedingly well for Sergeant Raines that he had been +liked by his Company. + +That same evening--no day is so long as the day of a murder--I met +Ortheris with the dogs, and he plunged defiantly into the middle of the +matter. “I'll be one o' the witnesses,” said he. “I was in the verandah +when Mackie came along. 'E come from Mrs. Raines's quarters. Quigley, +Parsons, an' Trot, they was in the inside verandah, so they couldn't +'ave 'eard nothing. Sergeant Raines was in the verandah talkin' to me, +an' Mackie 'e come along acrost the square an' 'e sez, 'Well,' sez 'e, +''ave they pushed your 'elmet off yet, Sergeant?' 'e sez. An' at that +Raines 'e catches 'is breath an' 'e sez, 'My Gawd, I can't stand this!' +sez 'e, an' 'e picks up my rifle an' shoots Mackie. See?” + +“But what were you doing with your rifle in the outer verandah an hour +after parade?” + +“Cleanin' 'er,” said Ortheris, with the sullen brassy stare that always +went with his choice lies. + +He might as well have said that he was dancing naked, for at no time did +his rifle need hand or rag on her twenty minutes after parade. Still the +High Court would not know his routine. + +“Are you going to stick to that--on the Book?” I asked. + +“Yes. Like a bloomin' leech.” + +“All right, I don't want to know any more. Only remember that Quigley, +Parsons, and Trot couldn't have been where you say without hearing +something; and there's nearly certain to be a barrack-sweeper who was +knocking about the square at the time. There always is.” + +“Twasn't the sweeper. It was the beastie. 'E's all right.” + +Then I knew that there was going to be some spirited doctoring, and +I felt sorry for the Government Advocate who would conduct the +prosecution. + +When the trial came on I pitied him more, for he was always quick to +lose his temper, and made a personal matter of each lost cause. Raines's +young barrister had for once put aside his unslaked and Welling passion +for alibis and insanity, had forsworn gymnastics and fireworks, and +worked soberly for his client. Mercifully the hot weather was yet young, +and there had been no flagrant cases of barrack-shootings up to the +time; and the jury was a good one, even for an Indian jury, where nine +men out of every twelve are accustomed to weighing evidence. Ortheris +stood firm and was not shaken by any cross-examination. The one weak +point in his tale--the presence of his rifle in the outer verandah--went +unchallenged by civilian wisdom, though some of the witnesses could not +help smiling. The Government Advocate called for the rope; contending +throughout that the murder had been a deliberate one. Time had passed, +he argued, for that reflection which comes so naturally to a man whose +honour is lost. There was also the Law, ever ready and anxious to right +the wrongs of the common soldier if, in deed, wrong had been done. But +he doubted much whether there had been any sufficient wrong. Causeless +suspicion over-long brooded upon had led, by his theory, to deliberate +crime. But his attempts to minimise the motive failed. The most +disconnected witness knew--had known for weeks--the causes of offence, +and the prisoner, who naturally was the last of all to know, groaned +in the dock while he listened. The one question that the trial circled +round was whether Raines had fired under sudden and blinding provocation +given that very morning, and in the summing up it was clear that +Ortheris's evidence told. He had contrived, most artistically, to +suggest that he personally hated the Sergeant, who had come into the +verandah to give him a talking to for insubordination. In a weak moment +the Government Advocate asked one question too many, “Beggin' your +pardon, sir,” Ortheris replied, “'e was callin' me a dam' impudent +little lawyer.” The Court shook. The jury brought it in a killing, but +with every provocation and extenuation known to God or man, and the +Judge put his hand to his brow before giving sentence, and the Adam's +apple in the prisoner's throat went up and down mercury-pumping before a +cyclone. + +In consideration of all considerations, from his Commanding Officer's +certificate of good conduct to the sure loss of pension, service, +and honour, the prisoner would get two years, to be served in India, +and--there need be no demonstration in Court. The Government Advocate +scowled and picked up his papers; the guard wheeled with a clash, and +the prisoner was relaxed to the Secular Arm, and driven to the jail in a +broken-down ticca-gharri. + +His guard and some ten or twelve military witnesses, being less +important, were ordered to wait till what was officially called the +cool of the evening before marching back to cantonments. They gathered +together in one of the deep red brick verandahs of a disused lock-up and +congratulated Ortheris, who bore his honours modestly. I sent my +work into the office and joined them. Ortheris watched the Government +Advocate driving off lunch. + +“That's a nasty little bald-'eaded little butcher, that is,” he said. +“'E don't please me. 'E's got a colley dog wot do, though. I'm goin' up +to Murree in a week. That dawg'll bring fifteen rupees anywheres.” + +“You had better spend it in Masses,” said Terence, unbuckling his belt, +for he had been on the prisoner's guard, standing helmeted and bolt up +right for three long hours. + +“Not me,” said Ortheris cheerfully. “Gawd'll put it down to B Comp'ny's +barrick damages one o' these days. You look strapped, Terence.” + +“Faith, I'm not so young as I was. That guard-mountin' wears on the +sole av the fut, and this”--he sniffed contemptuously at the brick +verandah--“is as hard setting as standin'!” + +“Wait a minute. I'll get the cushions out of my cart,” I said. + +“Strewth--sofies! We're going it gay,” said Ortheris, as Terence dropped +himself section by section on the leather cushions, saying prettily, +“May you niver want a soft place wheriver you go, an' power to share +utt wid a frind. Another for yourself? That's good. It lets me sit long +ways. Stanley, pass me a poipe. Augrrh! An' that's another man gone +all to pieces bekaze av a woman. I must ha' been on forty or fifty +prisoners' gyards, first an' last, an' I hate ut new ivry time.” + +“Let's see. You were on Losson's, Lancey's, Dugard's, and Stebbins's, +that I can remember,” I said. + +“Ay, an' before that an' before that--scores av thim,” he answered with +a worn smile. “Tis betther to die than to live for thim, though. Whin +Raines comes out--he'll be changin' his kit at the jail now--he'll think +that too. He shud ha' shot himself an' the woman by rights, an' made a +clean bill av all. Now he's left the woman--she tuk tay wid Dinah Sunday +gone last--an' he's left himself. Mackie's the lucky man.” + +“He's probably getting it hot where he is,” I ventured, for I knew +something of the dead Corporal's record. + +“Be sure av that,” said Terence, spitting over the edge of the verandah. +“But fwhat he'll get there is light marchin'-ordher to fwhat he'd ha' +got here if he'd lived.” + +“Surely not. He'd have gone on and forgotten like the others.” + +“Did ye know Mackie well, Sorr?” said Terence. + +“He was on the Pattiala guard of honour last winter, and I went out +shooting with him in an ekka for the day, and I found him rather an +amusing man.” + +“Well, he'll ha' got shut av amusemints, excipt turnin' from wan side to +the other, these few years come. I knew Mackie, an' I've seen too many +to be mistuk in the muster av wan man. He might ha' gone on an' forgot, +as you say, Sorr, but was a man wid an educashin, an' he used ut for his +schames, an' the same educashin, an' talk an' all that made him able to +do fwhat he had a mind to wid a woman, that same wud turn back again in +the long run an' tear him alive. I can't say fwhat that I mane to say +bekaze I don't know how, but Mackie was the spit an' livin' image av +a man that I saw march the same march all but; an' 'twas worse for him +that he did not come by Mackie's ind. Wait while I remimber now. 'Twas +fwhin I was in the Black Tyrone, an' he was drafted us from Portsmouth; +an' fwhat was his misbegotten name? Larry--Larry Tighe ut was; an' wan +of the draft said he was a gentleman ranker, an' Larry tuk an' three +parts killed him for saying so. An' he was a big man, an' a strong man, +an' a handsome man, an' that tells heavy in practice wid some women, +but, takin' thim by an' large, not wid all. Yet 'twas wid all that Larry +dealt--all--for he 'ud put the comether on any woman that trod the green +earth av God, an' he knew ut. Like Mackie that's roastin' now, he knew +ut; an' niver did he put the comether on any woman save an' excipt for +the black shame. 'Tis not me that shud be talkin', dear knows, dear +knows, but the most av my mis--misalli'nces was for pure devilry, an' +mighty sorry I have been whin harm came; an' time an' again wid a girl, +ay, an' a woman too, for the matter av that, whin I have seen by the +eyes av her that I was makin' more throuble than I talked, I have hild +off an' let be for the sake av the mother that bore me. But Larry, I'm +thinkin', he was suckled by a she-devil, for he niver let wan go that +came nigh to listen to him. 'Twas his business, as if it might ha' +bin sinthry-go. He was a good soldier too. Now there was the Colonel's +governess--an' he a privit too!--that was never known in barricks; an' +wan av the Major's maids, and she was promised to a man; an' some more +outside; an' fwhat ut was amongst us we'll never know till Judgment +Day! 'Twas the nature av the baste to put the comether on the best av +thim--not the prettiest by any manner av manes--but the like av such +woman as you cud lay your band on the Book an' swear there was niver +thought av foolishness in. An' for that very reason, mark you, he was +niver caught. He came close to ut wanst or twice, but caught he niver +was, an' that cost him more at the ind than the beginnin'. He talked +to me more than most, bekaze he tould me, barrin' the accident av my +educashin, I'd ha' been the same kind av divil he was. 'An' is ut +like,' he wud say, houldin' his head high--'is ut like that I'd iver be +thrapped? For fwhat am I when all's said an' done?' he sez. 'A damned +privit,' sez he. 'An' is ut like, think you, that thim I know wud be +connect wid a privit like me? Number tin thousand four hundred an' +sivin,' he sez, grinnin'. I knew by the turn av his spache whin he was +not takin' care to talk rough that he was a gentleman ranker. + +“'I do not undherstan' ut at all,' I sez; 'but I know,' sez I, 'that the +divil looks out av your eyes, an' I'll have no share wid you. A little +fun by way av amusemint where 't will do no harm, Larry, is right and +fair, but I am mistook if 'tis any amusemint to you,' I sez. + +“'You are much mistook,' he sez. 'An' I counsel you not to judge your +betters.' + +“'My betthers!' I sez. 'God help you, Larry. There's no betther in this. +'Tis all bad, as you will find for yoursilf.' + +“You're not like me,' he says, tossin' his head. + +“'Praise the Saints, I am not,' I sez. 'Fwhat I have done I have done +an' been crool sorry for. Fwhin your time comes,' sez I, 'ye'll remimber +fwhat I say.' + +“'An' whin that time comes,' sez he, 'I'll come to you for ghostly +consolation, Father Terence,' an' at that he wint off afther some +more divil's business--for to get expayrience, he tould me. He was +wicked--rank wicked--wicked as all Hell! I'm not construct by nature to +go in fear av any man, but, begad, I was afraid av Larry. He'd come in +to barricks wid his cap on three hairs, an' lie on his cot and stare at +the ceilin', and now an' again he'd fetch a little laugh, the like av a +splash in the bottom av a well, an' by that I knew he was schamin' new +wickedness, an' I'd be afraid. All this was long an' long ago, but ut +hild me straight--for a while. + +“I tould you, did I not, Sorr, that I was caressed an' pershuaded to +lave the Tyrone on account av a throuble?” + +“Something to do with a belt and a man's head, wasn't it?” Terence had +never given me the exact facts. + +“It was. Faith, ivry time I go on prisoner's gyard in coort I wondher +fwhy I am not where the pris'ner is. But the man I struk tuk it in fair +fight, an' he had the good sinse not to die. Considher now, fwhat wud +ha' come to the Arrmy if he had! I was enthreated to exchange, an' my +Commandin' Orf'cer pled wid me. I wint, not to be disobligin', an' Larry +tould me he was powerful sorry to lose me, though fwhat I'd done to make +him sorry I do not know. So to the Ould Rig'mint I came, lavin' Larry to +go to the divil his own way, an' niver expectin' to see him again except +as a shootin'-case in barricks.... Who's that lavin' the compound?” + Terence's quick eye had caught sight of a white uniform skulking behind +hedge. + +“The Sergeant's gone visiting,” said a voice. + +“Thin I command here, an' I will have no sneakin' away to the bazar, an' +huntin' for you wid a pathrol at midnight. Nalson, for I know ut's you, +come back to the verandah.” + +Nalson, detected, slunk back to his fellows. There was a grumble that +died away in a minute or two, and Terence, turning on the other side, +went on:-- + +“That was the last I saw av Larry for a while. Exchange is the same as +death for not thinkin', an' by token I married Dinah, an' that kept me +from remimberin' ould times. Thin we wint up to the Front, an' ut tore +my heart in tu to lave Dinah at the Depot in Pindi. Consequint whin +was at the Front I fought circumspectuous till I warrmed up, an thin I +fought double tides. You remimber fwhat I tould you in the gyard-gate av +the fight at Silver's Theatre.” + +“Wot's that about Silver's Theayter!” said Ortheris quickly, over his +shoulder. + +“Nothin', little man. A tale that ye know. As I was sayin', afther that +fight us av the Ould Rig'mint an' the Tyrone was all mixed together +takin' shtock ay the dead, an' av coorse I wint about to find if there +was any man that remimbered me. The second man I came acrost--an' how +I'd missed him in the fight I do not know--was Larry, an' a fine man he +looked, but oulder, by token that he had a call to be. 'Larry,' sez I, +'how is ut wid you?' + +“'Ye're callin' the wrong man,' he sez, wid his gentleman's smile; +'Larry has been dead these three years. They call him “Love-o'-Women” + now,' he sez. By that I knew the ould divil was in him yet, but the ind +av a fight is no time for the beginnin' av confession, so we sat down +an' talked av times.' + +“'They tell me you're a married man,' he sez, puffing slow at his poipe. +'Are ye happy?' + +“'I will be whin I get back to Depot,' I sez. ''Tis a reconnaissance +honeymoon now.' + +“'I'm married too,' he sez, puffin' slow an' more slow, an' stopperin' +wid his forefinger. + +“'Sind you happiness,' I sez. 'That's the best hearin' for a long time.' + +“'Are ye av that opinion?' he sez; an' thin he began talkin' av the +campaign. The sweat av Silver's Theatre was not dhry upon him, an' he +was prayin' for more work. I was well contint to lie and listen to the +cook-pot lids. + +“Whin he got up off the ground he shtaggered a little, an' laned over +all twisted. + +“'Ye've got more than ye bargained for,' I sez. 'Take an inventory, +Larry. 'Tis like you're hurt.' + +“He turned round stiff as a ramrod an' damned the eyes av me up an' down +for an impartinent Irish-faced ape. If that had been in barricks, I'd +ha' stretched him an' no more said; but 'twas at the Front, an' afther +such a fight as Silver's Theatre I knew there was no callin' a man to +account for his timpers. He might as well ha' kissed me. Aftherwards +I was well pleased I kept my fistes home. Then our Captain +Crook--Cruik-na-bul-leen--came up. He'd been talkin' to the little +orf'cer bhoy av the Tyrone. 'We're all cut to windystraws,' he sez, 'but +the Tyrone are damned short for noncoms. Go you over there, Mulvaney, +an' be Deputy-Sergeant, Corp'ral, Lance, an' everything else ye can lay +hands on till I bid you stop.' + +“'I wint over an' tuk hould. There was wan sergeant left standin', an' +they'd pay no heed to him. The remnint was me, an' 'twas high time I +came. Some I talked to, an' some I did not, but before night the bhoys +av the Tyrone stud to attention, begad, if I sucked on my poipe above a +whishper. Betune you an' me an' Bobs, I was commandin' the company, an' +that was what Cruik had thransferred me for, an' the little orf'cer bhoy +knew ut, and I knew ut, but the comp'ny did not. And there, mark you, is +the vartue that no money an' no dhrill can buy--the vartue av the ould +soldier that knows his orf'cer's work an' does ut--at the salute! + +“Thin the Tyrone, wid the Ould Rig'mint in touch, was sint maraudin' +and prowlin' acrost the hills promishcuous an' unsatisfactory. 'Tis my +privit opinion that a gin'ral does not know half his time fwhat to do +wid three-quarthers his command. So he shquats on his hunkers an' bids +thim run round an' round forninst him while he considhers on ut. Whin by +the process av nature they get sejuced into a big fight that was none av +their seekin', he sez: 'Obsarve my shuparior janius! I meant ut to come +so.' We ran round an' about, an' all we got was shootin' into the camp +at night, an' rushin' empty sungars wid the long bradawl, an' bein' hit +from behind rocks till we was wore out--all except Love-o'-Women. That +puppy-dog business was mate an' dhrink to him. Begad, he cud niver +get enough av ut. Me well knowin' that it is just this desultorial +campaignin' that kills the best men, an' suspicionin' that if I was cut +the little orf'cer bhoy wud expind all his men in thryin' to get out, I +wud lie most powerful doggo whin I heard a shot, an' curl my long legs +behind a bowlder, an' run like blazes whin the ground was clear. +Faith, if I led the Tyrone in rethreat wanst I led them forty times. +Love-o'-Women wud stay pottin' an' pottin' from behind a rock, and wait +till the fire was heaviest, an' thin stand up an' fire man-height clear. +He wud lie out in camp too at night snipin' at the shadows, for he +niver tuk a mouthful av slape. My commandin' orf'cer--save his little +soul!--cud not see the beauty av of my strategims, an' whin the Ould +Rig'mint crossed us, an' that was wanst a week, he'd throt off to +Cruik, wid his big blue eyes as round as saucers, an' lay an information +against me. I heard thim wanst talkin' through the tent-wall, an' I +nearly laughed. + +“'He runs--runs like a hare,' sez the little orf'cer bhoy. ''Tis +demoralisin' my men.' + +“'Ye damned little fool,' sez Cruik, laughin'. 'He's larnin' you your +business. Have ye been rushed at night yet?' + +“'No,' sez the child, wishful that he had been. + +“'Have you any wounded?' sez Cruik. + +“'No,' he sez. 'There was no chanst for that. They follow Mulvaney too +quick,' he sez. + +“'Fwhat more do you want, thin?' sez Cruik. 'Terence is bloodin' you +neat an' handy,' he sez. 'He knows fwhat you do not, an' that's that +there's a time for ivrything. He'll not lead you wrong,' he sez, 'but +I'd give a month's pay to larn fwhat he thinks av you.' + +“That kept the babe quiet, but Love-o'-Women was pokin' at me for +ivrything I did, an' specially my manoeuvres. + +“'Mr. Mulvaney,' he sez wan evenin', very contempshus, 'you're growin' +very jeldy wid your feet. Among gentlemen,' he sez, 'among gentlemen +that's called no pretty name.' + +“'Among privits 'tis different,' I sez. 'Get back to your tent. I'm +sergeant here,' I sez. + +“There was just enough in the voice av me to tell him he was playin' wid +his life betune his teeth. He wint off, an' I noticed that this man that +was contempshus set off from the halt wid a shunt as tho' he was bein' +kicked behind. That same night there was a Paythan picnic in the hills +about, an' firin' into our tents fit to wake the livin' dead. 'Lie +down all,' I sez. 'Lie down an' kape still. They'll no more than waste +ammunition.' + +“I heard a man's feet on the ground, an' thin a 'Tini joinin' in the +chorus. I'd been lyin' warm, thinkin' av Dinah an' all, but I crup out +wid the bugle for to look round in case there was a rush, an' the 'Tini +was flashin' at the fore-ind av the camp, an' the hill near by was +fair flickerin' wid long-range fire. Undher the starlight I beheld +Love-o'-Women settin' on a rock wid his belt and helmet off. He shouted +wanst or twice, an' thin I heard him say: 'They should ha' got the range +long ago. Maybe they'll fire at the flash.' Thin he fired again, an' +that dhrew a fresh volley, and the long slugs that they chew in their +teeth came floppin' among the rocks like tree-toads av a hot night. +'That's better,' sez Love-o'-Women. 'Oh Lord, how long, how long!' he +sez, an' at that he lit a match an' held ut above his head. + +“'Mad,' thinks I, 'mad as a coot,' an' I tuk wan stip forward, an' the +nixt I knew was the sole av my boot flappin' like a cavalry gydon an' +the funny-bone av my toes tinglin'. 'Twas a clane-cut shot--a slug--that +niver touched sock or hide, but set me bare-fut on the rocks. At that I +tuk Love-o'-Women by the scruff an' threw him under a bowlder, an' whin +I sat down I heard the bullets patterin' on that good stone. + +“'Ye may dhraw your own wicked fire,' I sez, shakin' him, 'but I'm not +goin' to be kilt too.' + +“Ye've come too soon,' he sez. 'Ye've come too soon. In another minute +they cud not ha' missed me. Mother av God,' he sez, 'fwhy did ye not +lave me be? Now 'tis all to do again,' an' he hides his face in his +hands. + +“'So that's it,' I sez, shakin' him again. 'That's th manin' av your +disobeyin' ordhers.' + +“'I dare not kill meself,' he sez, rockin' to and fro. 'My own hand wud +not let me die, and there's not a bullet this month past wud touch me. +I'm to die slow,' he sez. 'I'm to die slow. But I'm in hell now,' he +sez, shriekin' like a woman. 'I'm in hell now!' + +“'God be good to us all,' I sez, for I saw his face. 'Will ye tell a man +the throuble. If 'tis not murder, maybe we'll mend it yet.' + +“At that he laughed. 'D'you remimber fwhat I said in the Tyrone barricks +about comin' to you for ghostly consolation. I have not forgot,' he sez. +'That came back, an' the rest av my time is on me now, Terence. I've +fought ut off for months an' months, but the liquor will not bite any +more, Terence,' he sez. 'I can't get dhrunk.' + +“Thin I knew he spoke the truth about bein' in hell, for whin liquor +does not take hould, the sowl av a man is rotten in him. But me bein' +such as I was, fwhat could I say to him? + +“'Di'monds an' pearls,' he begins again. 'Di'monds and pearls I have +thrown away wid both hands--an' fwhat have I left? Oh, fwhat have I +left?' + +“He was shakin' an' thremblin' up against my shouldher, an' the slugs +was singin' overhead, an' I was wonderin' whether my little bhoy wud +have sinse enough to kape his men quiet through all this firin'. + +“'So long as I did not think,' sez Love-o'-Women, 'so long I did not +see--I wud not see--but I can now, what I've lost. The time an' the +place,' he sez, 'an' the very words I said whin ut pleased me to go off +alone to hell. But thin, even thin,' he sez, wrigglin' tremenjus, 'I +wud not ha' been happy. There was too much behind av me. How cud I ha' +believed her sworn oath--me that have bruk mine again an' again for the +sport av seein' thim cry. An' there are the others,' he sez. 'Oh, what +will I do--what will I do'?' He rocked back an' forward again, an' I +think he was cryin' like wan av the women he dealt wid. + +“The full half av fwhat he said was Brigade Ordhers to me, but from the +rest an' the remnint I suspicioned somethin' av his throuble. 'Twas the +judgmint av God had grup the heel av him, as I tould him 'twould in the +Tyrone barricks. The slugs was singin' over our rock more an' more, an' +I sez for to divart him: 'Let bad alone,' I sez. 'They'll be thryin' to +rush the camp in a minut'.' + +“I had no more than said that whin a Paythan man crep' up on his belly +wid his knife betune his teeth, not twinty yards from us. Love-o'-Women +jumped up an' fetched a yell, an' the man saw him an' ran at him (he'd +left his rifle under the rock) wid the knife. Love-o'-Women niver turned +a hair, but by the Living Power, for I saw ut, a stone twisted under +the Paythan man's feet an' he came down full sprawl, an' his knife wint +tinklin' acrost the rocks! 'I tould you I was Cain,' sez Love-o'-Women.' +'Fwhat's the use av killin' him? He's an honest man--by compare.' + +“I was not dishputin' about the morils av Paythans that tide, so I +dhropped Love-o'-Women's burt acrost the man's face, an' 'Hurry into +camp,' I sez, 'for this may be the first av a rush.' + +“There was no rush afther all, though we waited undher arms to give +thim a chanst. The Paythan man must ha' come alone for the mischief, +an' afther a while Love-o'-Women wint back to his tint wid that quare +lurchin' sind-off in his walk that I cud niver undherstand. Begad, I +pitied him, an' the more bekaze he made me think for the rest av the +night av the day whin I was confirmed Corp'ril, not actin' Lef'tenant, +an' my thoughts was not good. + +“Ye can undherstand that afther that night we came to talkin' a dale +together, an' bit by bit ut came out fwhat I'd suspicioned. The whole +av his carr'in's on an' divilmints had come back on him hard as liquor +comes back whin you've been on the dhrink for a wake. All he'd said an' +all he'd done, an' only he cud tell how much that was, come back, an' +there was niver a minut's peace in his sowl. 'Twas the Horrors widout +any cause to see, an' yet, an' yet--fwhat am I talkin' av? He'd ha' +taken the Horrors wid thankfulness. Beyon' the repentince av the man, +an' that was beyon' the natur av man--awful, awful, to behould!--there +was more that was worst than any repentince. Av the scores an' scores +that he called over in his mind (an' they were dhrivin' him mad), there +was, mark you, wan woman av all, an' she was not his wife, that cut him +to the quick av his marrow. 'Twas there he said that he'd thrown away +di'monds an' pearls past count, an' thin he'd begin again like a blind +byle in an oil-mill, walkin' round an' round, to considher (him that was +beyond all touch av being happy this side hell!) how happy he wud ha' +been wid her. The more he considhered, the more he'd consate himself +that he'd lost mighty happiness, an' thin he wud work ut all backwards, +an' cry that he niver cud ha' been happy anyways. + +“Time an' time an' again in camp, on p'rade, ay, an' in action, I've +seen that man shut his eyes an' duck his head as you wud duck to the +flicker av a bay'nit. For 'twas thin he tould me that the thought av all +he'd missed came an' stud forninst him like red-hot irons. For what +he'd done wid the others he was sorry, but he did not care; but this wan +woman that I've tould of, by the Hilts av God she made him pay for +all the others twice over! Niver did I know that a man cud enjure such +tormint widout his heart crackin' in his ribs, an' I have been”--Terence +turned the pipe-stem slowly between his teeth--“I have been in some +black cells. All I iver suffered tho' was not to be talked of alongside +av him... an' what could I do? Paternosters was no more than peas for +his sorrow. + +“Evenshually we finished our prom'nade acrost the hills, and thanks to +me for the same, there was no casualties an' no glory. The campaign was +comin' to an ind, an' all the rig'mints was bein' drawn together for to +be sint back home. Love-o'-Women was mighty sorry bekaze he had no work +to do, an' all his time to think in. I've heard that man talkin' to +his belt-plate an' his side-arms while he was soldierin' thim, all to +prevint himself from thinkin', an' ivry time he got up afther he had +been settin' down or wint on from the halt, he'd start wid that kick an' +traverse that I tould you of--his legs sprawlin' all ways to wanst. He +wud niver go see the docthor, tho' I tould him to be wise. He'd curse +me up an' down for my advice; but I knew he was no more a man to be +reckoned wid than the little bhoy was a commandin' orf'cer, so I let his +tongue run if it aised him. + +“Wan day--'twas on the way back--I was walkin' round camp wid him, +an' he stopped an' struck ground wid his right fut three or four times +doubtful. 'Fwhat is ut?' I sez. 'Is that ground?' sez he; an' while +I was thinkin' his mind was goin', up comes the docthor, who'd been +anatomisin' a dead bullock. Love-o'-Women starts to go on quick, an' +lands me a kick on the knee while his legs was gettin' into marchin' +ordher. + +“Hould on there,' sez the docthor; an' Love-o'-Women's face, that was +lined like a gridiron, turns red as brick. + +“'Tention,' says the docthor; an' Love-o'-Women stud so. 'Now shut your +eyes,' sez the docthor. 'No, ye must not hould by your comrade.' + +“'Tis all up,' sez Love-o'-Women, trying to smile. 'I'd fall, docthor, +an' you know ut.' + +“'Fall?' I sez. 'Fall at attention wid your eyes shut! Fwhat do you +mane?' + +“The docthor knows,' he sez. 'I've hild up as long as I can, but begad +I'm glad 'tis all done. But I will die slow,' he sez, 'I will die very +slow.' + +“I cud see by the docthor's face that he was mortial sorry for the +man, an' he ordhered him to hospital. We wint back together, an' I was +dumbstruck; Love-o'-Women was cripplin' and crumblin' at ivry step. He +walked wid a hand on my shoulder all slued sideways, an' his right leg +swingin' like a lame camel. Me not knowin' more than the dead fwhat +ailed him, 'twas just as though the docthor's word had done ut all--as +if Love-o'-Women had but been waitin' for the ordher to let go. + +“In hospital he sez somethin' to the docthor that I could not catch. + +“'Holy shmoke!' sez the docthor, 'an' who are you to be givin' names to +your diseases? 'Tis ag'in' all the regulations.' + +“'I'll not be a privit much longer,' sez Love-o'-Women in his +gentleman's voice, an' the docthor jumped. + +“'Thrate me as a study, Docthor Lowndes,' he sez; an' that was the first +time I'd iver heard a docthor called his name. + +“'Good-bye, Terence,' sez Love-o'-Women. ''Tis a dead man I am widout the +pleasure av dyin'. You'll come an' set wid me sometimes for the peace av +my soul.' + +“Now I had been minded to ask Cruik to take me back to the Ould +Rig'mint, for the fightin' was over, an' I was wore out wid the ways av +the bhoys in the Tyrone; but I shifted my will, an' hild on, an' wint +to set wid Love-o'-Women in the hospital. As I have said, Sorr, the man +bruk all to little pieces undher my hand. How long he had hild up an' +forced himself fit to march I cannot tell, but in hospital but two days +later he was such as I hardly knew. I shuk hands wid him, an' his grip +was fair strong, but his hands wint all ways to wanst, an' he cud not +button his tunic. + +“'I'll take long an' long to die yet,' he sez, 'for the ways av sin +they're like interest in the rig'mintal savin's-bank--sure, but a damned +long time bein' paid.' + +“The docthor sez to me quiet one day, 'Has Tighe there anythin' on his +mind?' he sez. 'He's burnin' himself out.' + +“'How shud I know, Sorr?' I sez, as innocent as putty. + +“They call him Love-o'-Women in the Tyrone, do they not?' he sez. 'I +was a fool to ask. Be wid him all you can. He's houldin' on to your +strength.' + +“'But what ails him, docthor,' I sez. + +“'They call ut Locomotus attacks us,' he sez, 'bekaze,' sez he, 'ut +attacks us like a locomotive, if ye know fwhat that manes. An' +ut comes,' sez he, lookin' at me, 'ut comes from bein' called +Love-o'-Women.' + +“'You're jokin', docthor,' I sez. + +“'Jokin'!' sez he. 'If iver you feel that you've got a felt sole in your +boot instead av a Government bull's-wool, come to me,' he sez, 'an' I'll +show you whether 'tis a joke.' + +“You would not belave ut, Sorr, but that an' seein' Love-o'-Women +overtuk widout warnin' put the cowld fear av attacks us on me so strong +that for a week an' more I was kickin' my toes against stones an' stumps +for the pleasure av feelin' them hurt. + +“An' Love-o'-Women lay in the cot (he might have gone down wid the +wounded before an' before, but he asked to stay wid me), and fwhat there +was in his mind had full swing at him night an' day an' ivry hour av the +day an' the night, an' he withered like beef rations in a hot sun, an' +his eyes was like owls' eyes, an' his hands was mut'nous. + +“They was gettin' the rig'mints away wan by wan, the campaign bein' +inded, but as ushuil they was behavin' as if niver a rig'mint had been +moved before in the mem'ry av man. Now, fwhy is that, Sorr? There's +fightin' in an' out nine months av the twelve somewhere in the Army. +There has been--for years an' years an' years, an' I wud ha' thought +they'd begin to get the hang av providin' for throops. But no! Ivry time +it's like a girls' school meetin' a big red bull whin they're goin' to +church; an' 'Mother av God,' sez the Commissariat an' the railways an' +the Barrick-masters, 'fwhat will we do now?' The ordhers came to us av +the Tyrone an' the Ould Rig'mint an' half a dozen more to go down, and +there the ordhers stopped dumb. We wint down, by the special grace av +God--down the Khaiber anyways. There was sick wid us, an' I'm thinkin' +that some av them was jolted to death in the doolies, but they was +anxious to be kilt so if they cud get to Peshawur alive the sooner. I +walked by Love-o'-Women--there was no marchin', an' Love-o'-Women was +not in a stew to get on. 'If I'd only ha' died up there!' sez he through +the doolie-curtains, an' then he'd twist up his eyes an' duck his head +for the thoughts that came to him. + +“Dinah was in Depot at Pindi, but I wint circumspectuous, for well I +knew 'tis just at the rump-ind av all things that his luck turns on +a man. By token I ad seen a dhriver of a batthery goin' by at a trot +singin' 'Home, swate home' at the top av his shout, and takin' no heed +o his bridle-hand--I had seen that man dhrop under the gun in the middle +of a word, and come out by the limber like--like a frog on a pave-stone. +No. I wud not hurry, though, God knows, my heart was all in Pindi. +Love-o'-Women saw fwhat was in my mind, an' 'Go on, Terence,' h sez, 'I +know fwhat's waitin' for you.' 'I will not,' I sez. ''Twill kape a little +yet.' + +“Ye know the turn of the pass forninst Jumrood and the nine mile road +on the flat to Peshawur? All Peshawur was along that road day and night +waitin' for frinds--men, women, childer, and bands. Some av the throops +was camped round Jumrood, an' some went on to Peshawur to get away down +to their cantonmints. We came through in the early mornin', havin' been +awake the night through, and we dhruv sheer into the middle av the mess. +Mother av Glory, will I ever forget that comin' back? The light was not +fair lifted, and the furst we heard was 'For 'tis my delight av a shiny +night,' frum a band that thought we was the second four comp'nies av the +Lincolnshire. At that we was forced to sind them a yell to say who we +was, an' thin up wint 'The wearin' av the Green.' It made me crawl all +up my backbone, not havin' taken my brequist. Thin, right smash into our +rear, came fwhat was left av the Jock Elliotts--wid four pipers an' not +half a kilt among thim, playin' for the dear life, an' swingin' their +rumps like buck rabbits, an' a native rig'mint shrieking blue murther. +Ye niver heard the like. There was men cryin' like women that did--an' +faith I do not blame thim. Fwhat bruk me down was the Lancers' +Band--shinin' an' spick like angels, wid the ould dhrum-horse at the +head an' the silver kettle-dhrums an' all an' all, waitin' for their +men that was behind us. They shtruck up the Cavalry Canter, an', begad, +those poor ghosts that had not a sound fut in a throop they answered to +ut, the men rockin' in their saddles. We thried to cheer them as they +wint by, but ut came out like a big gruntin' cough, so there must have +been many that was feelin' like me. Oh, but I'm forgettin'! The +Fly-by-Nights was waitin' for their second battalion, an' whin ut came +out, there was the Colonel's horse led at the head--saddle-empty. The +men fair worshipped him, an' he'd died at Au Musjid on the road down. +They waited till the remnint av the battalion was up, and thin--clane +against ordhers, for who wanted that chune that day?--they wint back to +Peshawur slow-time an' tearin' the bowils out av ivry man that heard, +wid 'The Dead March.' Right across our line they wint, an' ye know their +uniforms are as black as the Sweeps, crawlin' past like the dead, an' +the other bands damnin' them to let be. + +“Little they cared. The carpse was wid them, an' they'd ha' taken ut so +through a Coronation. Our ordhers was to go into Peshawur, an' we wint +hot-fut past the Fly-by-Nights, not singin', to lave that chune behind +us. That was how we tuk the road of the other corps. + +“'Twas ringin' in my ears still whin I felt in the bones of me that +Dinah was comin', an' I heard a shout, an' thin I saw a horse an' a +tattoo latherin' down the road, hell to shplit, under women. I knew--I +knew! Wan was the Tyrone Colonel's wife--ould Beeker's lady--her gray +hair flyin' an' her fat round carkiss rowlin' in the saddle, an' the +other was Dinah, that shud ha' been at Pindi. The Colonel's lady she +charged at the head av our column like a stone wall, an' she all but +knocked Beeker off his horse throwin' her arms round his neck an' +blubberin', 'Me bhoy! Me bhoy!' an' Dinah wheeled left an' came down +our flank, an' I let a yell that had suffered inside av me for months, +and--Dinah came. Will I iver forget that while I live! She'd come on +pass from Pindi, an' the Colonel's lady had lint her the tattoo. They'd +been huggin' an' cryin' in each other's arms all the long night. + +“So she walked along wid her hand in mine, askin' forty questions to +wanst, an' beggin' me on the Virgin to make oath that there was not +a bullet consaled in me, unbeknownst somewhere, an' thin I remimbered +Love-o'-Women. He was watchin' us, an' his face was like the face av a +divil that has been cooked too long. I did not wish Dinah to see ut, for +whin a woman's runnin' over wid happiness she's like to be touched, +for harm aftherwards, by the laste little thing in life. So I dhrew the +curtain, an' Love-o'-Women lay back and groaned. + +“Whin we marched into Peshawur, Dinah wint to barracks to wait for me, +an' me feelin' so rich that tide, I wint on to take Love-o'-Women to +hospital. It was the last I cud do, an' to save him the dust an' the +smother I turned the doolie-men down a road well clear av the rest av +the throops, an we wint along, me talkin' through the curtains. Av a +sudden I heard him say:-- + +“'Let me look. For the Mercy av Hiven, let me look!' I had been so tuk +up wid gettin' him out av the dust and thinkin' of Dinah that I had not +kept my eyes about me. There was a woman ridin' a little behind av us, +an', talkin' ut over wid Dinah aftherwards, that same woman must ha' rid +not far on the Jumrood road. Dinah said that she had been hoverin' like +a kite on the left flank av the column. + +“I halted the doolie to set the curtains, an' she rode by walkin'-pace, +an' Love-o'-Women's eyes wint afther her as if he would fair haul her +down from the saddle. + +“'Follow there,' was all he sez, but I niver heard a man spake in that +voice before or since, an' I knew by those two wan words an' the look +in his face that she was Di'monds-an'-Pearls that he'd talked av in his +disthresses. + +“We followed till she turned into the gate av a little house that stud +near the Edwardes's Gate. There was two girls in the verandah, an' they +ran in whin they saw us. Faith, at long eye-range ut did not take me a +wink to see fwhat kind av house ut was. The throops bein' there an' all, +there was three or four such, but aftherwards the polis bade them go. +At the verandah Love-o'-Women sez, catchin' his breath, 'Stop here,' +an' thin, an' thin, wid a grunt that must ha' tore the heart up from his +stomach, he swung himself out av the doolie, an' my troth he stud up on +his feet wid the sweat pourin' down his face. If Mackie was to walk in +here now I'd be less tuk back than I was thin. Where he'd dhrawn his +power from, God knows or the divil--but 't was a dead man walkin' in the +sun wid the face av a dead man and the breath av a dead man held up by +the Power, an' the legs an' the arms of the carpse obeyin' ordhers! + +“The woman stud in the verandah. She'd been a beauty too, though her +eyes was sunk in her head, an' she looked Love-o'-Women up an' down +terrible. 'An',' she sez, kickin' back the tail av her habit,--'An',' +she sez, 'fwhat are you doin' here, married man?' + +“Love-o'-Women said nothin', but a little froth came to his lips, an' +he wiped ut off wid his hand an' looked at her an' the paint on her, an' +looked, an' looked, an' looked. + +“'An' yet,' she sez, wid a laugh. (Did you hear Mrs. Raines laugh whin +Mackie died? Ye did not? Well for you.) 'An' yet,' she sez, 'who but you +have betther right,' sez she. 'You taught me the road. You showed me the +way,' she sez. 'Ay, look,' she sez, 'for 'tis your work; you that tould +me--d'you remimber it?--that a woman who was false to wan man cud be +false to two. I have been that,' she sez, 'that an' more, for you always +said I was a quick learner, Ellis. Look well,' she sez, 'for it is +me that you called your wife in the sight av God long since!' An' she +laughed. + +“Love-o'-Women stud still in the sun widout answerin'. Thin he groaned +an' coughed to wanst, an' I thought 'twas the death-rattle, but he +niver tuk his eyes off her face not for a wink. Ye cud ha' put her +eyelashes through the flies av an E. P. tent, they were so long. + +“'Fwhat do you do here?' she sez, word by word, 'that have taken away my +joy in my man this five years gone--that have broken my rest an' killed +my body an' damned my soul for the sake av seem' how 'twas done? Did +your expayrience aftherwards bring you acrost any woman that gave more +than I did? Wud I not ha' died for you an' wid you, Ellis? Ye know that, +man! If ever your lyin' sowl saw truth in uts life ye know that.' + +“An' Love-o'-Women lifted up his head and said, 'I knew,' an' that was +all. While she was spakin' the Power hild him up parade-set in the 'sun, +an the sweat dhropped undher his helmet. 'Twas more an' more throuble +for him to talk, an' his mouth was runnin' twistways. + +“Fwhat do you do here?' she sez, an' her voice whit up. 'Twas like +bells tollin' before. 'Time was whin you were quick enough wid your +words,--you that talked me down to hell. Are ye dumb now?' An' Love-o'-W +omen got his tongue, an' sez simple, like a little child, 'May I come +in?' he sez. + +“The house is open day an' night,' she sez, wid a laugh; an' +Love-o'-Women ducked his head an' hild up his hand as tho' he was +gyardin'. The Power was on him still--it hild him up still, for, by my +sowl, as I'll never save ut, he walked up the verandah steps that had +been a livin' corpse in hospital for a month! + +“'An' now'?' she sez, lookin' at him; an' the red paint stud lone on the +white av her face like a bull's-eye on a target. + +“He lifted up his eyes, slow an' very slow, an' he looked at her long +an' very long, an' he tuk his spache betune his teeth wid a wrench that +shuk him. + +“'I'm dyin', Aigypt--dyin',' he sez; ay, those were his words, for I +remimber the name he called her. He was turnin' the death-colour, but +his eyes niver rowled. They were set--set on her. Widout word or warnin' +she opened her arms full stretch, an' 'Here!' she sez. (Oh, fwhat +a golden mericle av a voice ut was!) 'Die here,' she sez; an' +Love-o'-Women dhropped forward, an' she hild him up, for she was a fine +big woman. + +“I had no time to turn, bekaze that minut I heard the sowl quit +him--tore out in the death-rattle--an' she laid him back in a long +chair, an' she sez to me, 'Misther soldier,' she sez, 'will ye not go in +an' talk to wan av the girls. This sun's too much for him.' + +“Well I knew there was no sun he'd iver see, but I cud not spake, so +I wint away wid the empty doolie to find the docthor. He'd been +breakfastin' an' lunchin' ever since we'd come in, an' he was as full as +a tick. + +“Faith ye've got dhrunk mighty soon,' he sez, whin I'd tould him, 'to +see that man walk. Barrin' a puff or two av life, he was a corpse before +we left Jumrood. I've a great mind,' he sez, 'to confine you.' + +“There's a dale av liquor runnin' about, docthor,' I sez, solemn as a +hard-boiled egg. 'Maybe 'tis so, but will ye not come an' see the corpse +at the house?' + +“Tis dishgraceful,' he sez, 'that I would be expected to go to a place +like that. Was she a pretty woman?'' he sez, an' at that he set off +double quick. + +“I cud see that the two was in the verandah were I'd left them, an' +I knew by the hang av her head an' the noise av the crows fwhat had +happened. 'Twas the first and the last time that I'd ever known woman to +use the pistol. They dread the shot as a rule, but Di'monds-an'-Pearls +she did not--she did not. + +“The docthor touched the long black hair av her head ['twas all loose +upon Love-o'-Women's chest), an' that cleared the liquor out av him. He +stud considherin' a long time, his hands in his pockets, an' at last +he sez to me, 'Here's a double death from naturil causes, most naturil +causes; an' in the presint state av affairs the rig'mint will be +thankful for wan grave the less to dig. Issiwasti,' he sez, 'Issiwasti, +Privit Mulvaney, these two will be buried together in the Civil Cemet'ry +at my expinse, an' may the good God,' he sez, 'make it SO much for me +whin my time comes. Go to your wife,' he sez; 'go an' be happy. I'll see +to this all.' + +“I left him still considherin'. They was buried in the Civil Cemet'ry +together, wid a Church of England service. There was too many buryin's +thin to ask questions, an' the docthor--he ran away wid Major--Major Van +Dyce's lady that year--he saw to ut all. Fwhat the right an' the wrong +av Love-o'-Women an' Di'monds-an'-Pearls was I niver knew, an' I will +niver know; but I've tould ut as I came acrost ut--here an' there in +little pieces. So, being fwhat I am, an' knowin' fwhat I know, that's +fwhy I say in this shootin'-case here, Mackie that's dead an' in hell is +the lucky man. There are times, Sorr, whin 'tis betther for the man to +die than to live, an' by consequince forty million times betther for the +woman.” + +“H'up there!” said Ortheris. “It's time to go.” The witnesses and guard +formed up in the thick white dust of the parched twilight and swung off, +marching easy and whistling. Down the road to the green by the church +I could hear Ortheris, the black Book-lie still uncleansed on his +lips, setting, with a fine sense of the fitness of things, the shrill +quick-step that runs-- + + “Oh, do not despise the advice of the wise, + Learn wisdom from those that are older, + And don't try for things that are out of your reach-- + An' that's what the Girl told the Soldier + Soldier! Soldier! + Oh, that's what the Girl told the Soldier!” + + + + +THE BIG DRUNK DRAF' + + We're goin' 'ome, we're goin' 'ome-- + Our ship is at the shore, + An' you mus' pack your 'aversack, + For we won't come back no more. + Ho, don't you grieve for me, + My lovely Mary Ann, + For I'll marry you yet on a fourp'ny bit, + As a time-expired ma-a-an + + Barrack Room Ballad. + + +AN awful thing has happened! My friend, Private Mulvaney, who went home +in the Serapis, time-expired, not very long ago, has come back to India +as a civilian! It was all Dinah Shadd's fault. She could not stand the +poky little lodgings, and she missed her servant Abdullah more than +words could tell. The fact was that the Mulvaneys had been out here too +long, and had lost touch of England. + +Mulvaney knew a contractor on one of the new Central India lines, and +wrote to him for some sort of work. The contractor said that if Mulvaney +could pay the passage he would give him command of a gang of coolies for +old sake's sake. The pay was eighty-five rupees a month, and Dinah Shadd +said that if Terence did not accept she would make his life a “basted +purgathory.” Therefore the Mulvaneys came out as “civilians,” which +was a great and terrible fall; though Mulvaney tried to disguise it by +saying that he was “Ker'nel on the railway line, an' a consequinshal +man.” + +He wrote me an invitation, on a tool-indent form, to visit him; and I +came down to the funny little “construction” bungalow at the side of +the line. Dinah Shadd had planted peas about and about, and nature had +spread all manner of green stuff round the place. There was no change in +Mulvaney except the change of clothing, which was deplorable, but could +not be helped. He was standing upon his trolly, haranguing a gangman, +and his shoulders were as well drilled and his big, thick chin was as +clean-shaven as ever. + +“I'm a civilian now,” said Mulvaney. “Cud you tell that I was iver +a martial man'? Don't answer, Sorr, av you're strainin' betune a +complimint an' a lie. There's no houldin' Dinah Shadd now she's got +a house av her own. Go inside, an' dhrink tay out av chiny in the +drrrrawin'-room, an' thin we'll dhrink like Christians undher the tree +here. Scutt, ye naygur-folk! There's a Sahib come to call on me, an' +that's more than he'll iver do for you onless you run! Get out, an' go +on pilin' up the earth, quick, till sundown.” + + +When we three were comfortably settled under the big sisham in front of +the bungalow, and the first rush of questions and answers about Privates +Ortheris and Learoyd and old times and places had died away, Mulvaney +said, reflectively--“Glory be, there's no p'rade to-morrow, an' no +bun-headed Corp'ril-bhoy to give you his lip. An' yit I don't know. 'Tis +harrd to be something ye niver were an' niver meant to be, an' all the +ould days shut up along wid your papers. Eyah! I'm growin' rusty, an' +'tis the will av God that a man mustn't serve his Quane for time an' +all.” + +He helped himself to a fresh peg, and sighed furiously. + +“Let your beard grow, Mulvaney,” said I, “and then you won't be troubled +with those notions. You'll be a real civilian.” + +Dinah Shadd had told me in the drawing-room of her desire to coax +Mulvaney into letting his beard grow. “'Twas so civilian-like,” said +poor Dinah, who hated her husband's hankering for his old life. + +“Dinah Shadd, you're a dishgrace to an honust, clane-scraped man!” + said Mulvaney, without replying to me. “Grow a beard on your own chin, +darlint, and lave my razors alone. They're all that stand betune me +and dis-ris-pect-ability. Av I didn't shave, I wud be torminted wid an +outrajis thurrst; for there's nothin' so dhryin' to the throat as a +big billy-goat beard waggin' undher the chin. Ye wudn't have me dhrink +always, Dinah Shadd'? By the same token, you're kapin' me crool dhry +now. Let me look at that whiskey.” + +The whiskey was lent and returned, but Dinah Shadd, who had been just as +eager as her husband in asking after old friends, rent me with-- + +“I take shame for you, Sorr, coming down here though the Saints know +you're as welkim as the daylight whin you do come--an' upsettin' +Terence's head wid your nonsense about--about fwhat's much betther +forgotten. He bein' a civilian now, an' you niver was aught else. Can +you not let the Arrmy rest? 'Tis not good for Terence.” + +I took refuge by Mulvaney, for Dinah Shadd has a temper of her own. + +“Let be--let be,” said Mulvaney. “'Tis only wanst in a way I can talk +about the ould days.” Then to me--“Ye say Dhrumshticks is well, an' his +lady tu'? I niver knew how I liked the gray garron till I was shut +av him an' Asia.”--“Dhrumshticks” was the nickname of the Colonel +commanding Mulvaney's old regiment.--“Will you be seein' him again? You +will. Thin tell him”--Mulvaney's eyes began to twinkle--“tell him wid +Privit--” + +“Mister, Terence,” interrupted Dinah Shadd. “Now the Divil an' all his +angils an' the Firmament av Hiven fly away wid the 'Mister,' an' the sin +av makin' me swear be on your confession, Dinah Shadd! Privit, I tell +ye. Wid Privit Mulvaney's best obedience, that but for me the last +time-expired wud be still pullin' hair on their way to the sea.” + +He threw himself back in the chair, chuckled, and was silent. + +“Mrs. Mulvaney,” I said, “please take up the whiskey, and don't let him +have it until he has told the story.” + +Dinah Shadd dexterously whipped the bottle away, saying at the same +time, “'Tis nothing to be proud av,” and thus captured by the enemy, +Mulvaney spake:-- + +“'Twas on Chuseday week. I was behaderin' round wid the gangs on +the 'bankmint--I've taught the hoppers how to kape step an' stop +screechin'--whin a head-gangman comes up to me, wid about two inches av +shirt-tail hanging round his neck an' a disthressful light in his oi. +'Sahib,' sez he, 'there's a reg'mint an' a half av soldiers up at the +junction, knockin' red cinders out av ivrything an' ivrybody! They +thried to hang me in my cloth,' he sez, 'an' there will be murdher an' +ruin an' rape in the place before nightfall! They say they're comin' +down here to wake us up. What will we do wid our women-folk?' + +“'Fetch my throlly!' sez I; 'my heart's sick in my ribs for a wink at +anything wid the Quane's uniform on ut. Fetch my throlly, an' six av the +jildiest men, and run me up in shtyle.'” + +“He tuk his best coat,” said Dinah Shadd, reproachfully. + +“'Twas to do honour to the Widdy. I cud ha' done no less, Dinah Shadd. +You and your digresshins interfere wid the coorse av the narrative. Have +you iver considhered fwhat I wud look like wid me head shaved as well as +me chin? You bear that in your mind, Dinah darlin'. + +“I was throllied up six miles, all to get a shquint at that draf'. +I knew 'twas a spring draf' goin' home, for there's no rig'mint +hereabouts, more's the pity.” + +“Praise the Virgin!” murmured Dinah Shadd. But Mulvaney did not hear. + +“Whin I was about three-quarters av a mile off the rest-camp, powtherin' +along fit to burrst, I heard the noise av the men, an', on my sowl, +Sorr, I cud catch the voice av Peg Barney bellowin' like a bison wid the +belly-ache. You remimber Peg Barney that was in D Comp'ny--a red, hairy +scraun, wid a scar on his jaw? Peg Barney that cleared out the Blue +Lights' Jubilee meetin' wid the cook-room mop last year? + +“Thin I knew ut was a draf' av the Ould Rig'mint, an' I was conshumed +wid sorrow for the bhoy that was in charge. We was harrd scrapin's at +any time. Did I iver tell you how Horker Kelley wint into clink nakid as +Phoebus Apollonius, wid the shirts av the Corp'ril an' file undher his +arrum? An' he was a moild man! But I'm digresshin'. 'Tis a shame both +to the rig'mints and the Arrmy sendin' down little orf'cer bhoys wid +a draf' av strong men mad wid liquor an' the chanst av gettin' shut av +India, an' niver a punishment that's fit to be given right down an' away +from cantonmints to the dock! 'Tis this nonsinse. Whin I am servin' my +time, I'm undher the Articles av War, an' can be whipped on the peg for +thim. But whin I've served my time, I'm a Reserve man, an' the Articles +av War haven't any hould on me. An orf'cer can't do anythin' to a +time-expired savin' confinin' him to barricks. 'Tis a wise rig'lation, +bekaze a time-expired does not have any barricks; bein' on the move +all the time. 'Tis a Solomon av a rig'lation, is that. I wud like to +be inthroduced to the man that made ut. 'Tis easier to get colts from a +Kibbereen horse-fair into Galway than to take a bad draf' over ten miles +av counthry. Consiquintly that rig'lation--for fear that the men wud be +hurt by the little orf'cer bhoy. No matther. The nearer my throlly came +to the rest-camp, the woilder was the shine, an' the louder was the +voice of Peg Barney. ''Tis good I am here,' thinks I to mysilf, 'for Peg +alone is employmint for two or three.' He bein', I well knew, as copped +as a dhrover. + +“Faith, that rest-camp was a sight! The tent-ropes was all skew-nosed, +an' the pegs looked as dhrunk as the men--fifty av thim--the scourin's, +an' rinsin's, an' Divil's lavin's av the Ould Rig'mint. I tell you, +Sorr, they were dhrunker than any men you've ever seen in your mortial +life. How does a draf' get dhrunk? How does a frog get fat? They suk ut +in through their shkins. + +“There was Peg Barney sittin' on the groun' in his shirt--wan shoe off +an' wan shoe on--whackin' a tent-peg over the head wid his boot, an' +singin' fit to wake the dead. 'Twas no clane song that he sung, though. +'Twas the Divil's Mass.” + +“What's that?” I asked. + +“Whin a bad egg is shut av the Army, he sings the Divil's Mass for +a good riddance; an' that manes swearin' at ivrything from the +Commandher-in-Chief down to the Room-Corp'ril, such as you niver in your +days heard. Some men can swear so as to make green turf crack! Have you +iver heard the Curse in an Orange Lodge? The Divil's Mass is ten times +worse, an' Peg Barney was singin' ut, whackin' the tent-peg on the head +wid his boot for each man that he cursed. A powerful big voice had Peg +Barney, an' a hard swearer he was whin sober. I stood forninst him, an' +'twas not me oi alone that cud tell Peg was dhrunk as a coot. + +“Good mornin', Peg,' I sez, whin he dhrew breath afther dursin' the +Adj'tint-Gen'ral; 'I've put on my best coat to see you, Peg Barney,' sez +I. + +“Thin take Ut off again,' sez Peg Barney, latherin' away wid the boot; +'take ut off an' dance, ye lousy civilian!' + +“Wid that he begins cursin' ould Dhrumshticks, being so full he dane +disrernimbers the Brigade-Major an' the Judge-Advokit-Gen'ral. + +“Do you not know me, Peg?' sez I, though me blood was hot in me wid +being called a civilian.” + +“An' him a decent married man!” wailed Dinah Shadd. + +“I do not,” sez Peg, “but dhrunk or sober I'll tear the hide off your +back wid a shovel whin I've stopped singin.” + +“'Say you so, Peg Barney?' sez I. ''Tis clear as mud you've forgotten +me. I'll assist your autobiography.' Wid that I stretched Peg Barney, +boot an' all, an' wint into the camp. An awful sight ut was! + +“'Where's the orf'cer in charge av the detachment?' sez I to Scrub +Greene--the manest little worm that ever walked. + +“'There's no orf'cer, ye ould cook,' sez Scrub; 'we're a bloomin' +Republic.' + +“'Are you that?' sez I; 'thin I'm O'Connell the Dictator, an' by this +you will larn to kape a civil tongue in your rag-box.' + +“Wid that I stretched Scrub Greene an' wint to the orf'cer's tent. 'Twas +a new little bhoy--not wan I'd iver seen before. He was sittin' in his +tent, purtendin' not to 'ave ear av the racket. + +“I saluted--but for the life av me I mint to shake hands whin I went in. +'Twas the sword hangin' on the tent-pole changed my will. + +“'Can't I help, Sorr?' sez I; ''tis a strong man's job they've given +you, an' you'll be wantin' help by sundown.' He was a bhoy wid bowils, +that child, an' a rale gintleman. + +“'Sit down,' sez he. + +“'Not before my orf'cer,' sez I; an' I tould him fwhat my service was. + +“'I've heard av you,' sez he. 'You tuk the town av Lungtungpen nakid.' + +“'Faith,' thinks I, 'that's Honour an' Glory'; for 'twas Lift'nint +Brazenose did that job. 'I'm wid ye, Sorr,' sez I, 'if I'm av use. They +shud niver ha' sent you down wid the draf'. Savin' your presince, Sorr,' +I sez, ''tis only Lift'nint Hackerston in the Ould Rig'mint can manage a +Home draf'.' + +“'I've niver had charge of men like this before,' sez he, playin' wid +the pens on the table; 'an' I see by the Rig'lations--' + +“'Shut your oi to the Rig'lations, Sorr,' I sez, 'till the throoper's +into blue wather. By the Rig'lations you've got to tuck thim up for the +night, or they'll be runnin' foul av my coolies an' makin' a shiverarium +half through the counthry. Can you trust your noncoms, Sorr?' + +“'Yes,' sez he. + +“'Good,' sez I; 'there'll be throuble before the night. Are you +marchin', Sorr?' + +“'To the next station,' sez he. + +“'Betther still,' sez I; 'there'll be big throuble.' + +“'Can't be too hard on a Home draf,' sez he; 'the great thing is to get +thim in-ship.' + +“'Faith, you've larnt the half av your lesson, Sorr,' sez I, 'but av you +shtick to the Rig'lations you'll niver get thim inship at all, at all. +Or there won't be a rag av kit betune thim whin you do.' + +“'Twas a dear little orf'cer bhoy, an' by way av kapin' his heart up, I +tould him fwhat I saw wanst in a draf in Egypt.” + +“What was that, Mulvaney?” said I. + +“Sivin an' fifty men sittin' on the bank av a canal, laughin' at a poor +little squidgereen av an orf'cer that they'd made wade into the slush +an' pitch things out av the boats for their Lord High Mightinesses. That +made me orf'cer bhoy woild wid indignation. + +“'Soft an' aisy, Sorr,' sez I; 'you've niver had your draf' in hannd +since you left cantonmints Wait till the night, an' your work will be +ready to you. Wid your permission, Sorr, I will investigate the camp, +an' talk to me ould frinds. 'Tis no manner av use thryin' to shtop the +divilmint now.' + +“Wid that I wint out into the camp an' inthrojuced mysilf to ivry man +sober enough to remimber me. I was some wan in the ould days, an' the +bhoys was glad to see me--all excipt Peg Barney wid a eye like a tomata +five days in the bazar, an' a nose to match. They come round me an' shuk +me, an' I tould thim I was in privit employ wid an income av me own, +an' a drrrawin'-room fit to bate the Quane's; an' wid me lies an' +me shtories an' nonsinse gin'rally, I kept 'em quiet in wan way an' +another, knockin' roun' the camp. 'Twas bad even thin whin I was the +Angil av Peace. + +“I talked to me ould non-coms--they was sober--an' betune me an' thim +we wore the draf' over into their tents at the proper time. The little +orf'cer bhoy he conies round, dacint an' civil-spoken as might be. + +“'Rough quarthers, men,' sez he, 'but you can't look to be as +comfortable as in barricks. We must make the best av things. I've shut +my eyes to a dale av dog's thricks to-day, an' now there must be no more +av ut.' + +“No more we will. Come an' have a dhrink, me son,' sez Peg Barney, +staggerin' where he stud. Me little orf'cer bhoy kep' his timper. + +“'You're a sulky swine, you are,' sez Peg Barney, an' at that the men in +the tent began to laugh. + +“I tould you me orf'cer bhoy had bowils. He cut Peg Barney as near as +might be on the oi that I'd squshed whin we first met. Peg wint spinnin' +acrost the tent. + +“Peg him out, Sorr,' sez I, in a whishper. + +“Peg him out!' sez me orf'cer bhoy, up loud, just as if 'twas battalion +p'rade an' he pickin' his wurrds from the Sargint. + +“The non-coms tuk Peg Barney--a howlin' handful he was--an' in three +minut's he was pegged out--chin down, tight-dhrawn--on his stummick, a +tent-peg to each arm an' leg, swearin' fit to turn a naygur white. + +“I tuk a peg an'' jammed ut into his ugly jaw--'Bite on that, Peg +Barney,' I sez; 'the night is settin' frosty, an' you'll be wantin' +divarsion before the mornin'. But for the Rig'lations you'd be bitin' on +a bullet now at the thriangles, Peg Barney,' sez I. + +“All the draf' was out av their tents watchin' Barney bein' pegged. + +“''Tis agin the Rig'lations! He strook him!' screeches out Scrub Greene, +who was always a lawyer; an' some of the men tuk up the shoutin'. + +“'Peg out that man!' sez me orf'cer bhoy, niver losin' his timper; an' +the non-coms wint in and pegged out Scrub Greene by the side av Peg +Barney. + +“I cud see that the draf' was comin' roun'. The men stud not knowin' +fwhat to do. + +“'Get to your tents!' sez me orf'cer bhoy. 'Sargint, put a sinthry over +these two men.' + +“The men wint back into the tents like jackals, an' the rest av the +night there was no noise at all excipt the stip av the sinthry over the +two, an' Scrub Greene blubberin' like a child. 'Twas a chilly night, an' +faith, ut sobered Peg Barney. + +“Just before Revelly, me orf'cer bhoy comes out an' sez: 'Loose those +men an' send thim to their tents!' Scrub Greene wint away widout a word, +but Peg Barney, stiff wid the cowld, stud like a sheep, thryin' to make +his orf'cer undherstand he was sorry for playin' the goat. + +“There was no tucker in the draf' whin ut fell in for the march, an' +divil a wurrd about 'illegality' cud I hear. + +“I wint to the ould Colour-Sargint and I sez:--'Let me die in glory,' +sez I. 'I've seen a man this day!' + +“'A man he is,' sez ould Hother; 'the draf's as sick as a herrin'. +They'll all go down to the sea like lambs. That bhoy has the bowils av a +cantonmint av Gin'rals.' + +“'Amin,' sez I, 'an' good luck go wid him, wheriver he be, by land or by +sea. Let me know how the draf' gets clear.' + +“An' do you know how they did? That bhoy, so I was tould by letter from +Bombay, bully-damned 'em down to the dock, till they cudn't call their +sowls their own. From the time they left me oi till they was 'tween +decks, not wan av thim was more than dacintly dhrunk. An' by the Holy +Articles av War, whin they wint aboord they cheered him till they cudn't +spake, an' that, mark you, has not come about wid a draf' in the mlm'ry +av livin' man! You look to that little orf'cer bhoy. He has bowils. 'Tis +not ivry child that wud chuck the Rig'lations to Flanders an' stretch +Peg Barney on a wink from a brokin an' dilapidated ould carkiss like +mysilf. I'd be proud to serve--” + +“Terence, you're a civilian,” said Dinah Shadd warningly. + +“So I am--so I am. Is ut likely I wud forget ut? But he was a gran' bhoy +all the same, an' I'm only a mudtipper wid a hod on me shoulthers. +The whiskey's in the heel av your hand, Sorr. Wid your good lave we'll +dhrink to the Ould Rig'mint--three fingers--standin' up!” And we drank. + + + + +THE MUTINEY OF THE MAVERICKS + +Sec. 7 (1)--Causing or Conspiring with other persons to cause a mutiny +or sedition in forces belonging to Her Majesty's Regular forces, Reserve +forces, Auxiliary forces, or Navy. + +When three obscure gentlemen in San Francisco argued on insufficient +premises they condemned a fellow-creature to a most unpleasant death in +a far country which had nothing whatever to do with the United States. +They foregathered at the top of a tenement-house in Tehama Street, an +unsavoury quarter of the city, and, there calling for certain drinks, +they conspired because they were conspirators by trade, officially known +as the Third Three of the I. A. A.--an institution for the propagation +of pure light, not to be confounded with any others, though it is +affiliated to many. The Second Three live in Montreal, and work among +the poor there; the First Three have their home in New York, not far +from Castle Garden, and write regularly once a week to a small house +near one of the big hotels at Boulogne. What happens after that, a +particular section of Scotland Yard knows too well and laughs at. A +conspirator detests ridicule. More men have been stabbed with Lucrezia +Borgia daggers and dropped into the Thames for laughing at Head Centres +and Triangles than for betraying secrets; for this is human nature. + +The Third Three conspired over whiskey cocktails and a clean sheet of +note-paper against the British Empire and all that lay therein. This +work is very like what men without discernment call politics before a +general election. You pick out and discuss, in the company of congenial +friends, all the weak points in your opponents' organisation, and +unconsciously dwell upon and exaggerate all their mishaps, till it seems +to you a miracle that the hated party holds together for an hour. + +“Our principle is not so much active demonstration--that we leave to +others--as passive embarrassment, to weaken and unnerve,” said the first +man. “Wherever an organisation is crippled, wherever confusion is thrown +into any branch of any department, we gain a step for those who take on +the work; we are but the forerunners.” He was a German enthusiast, and +editor of a newspaper, from whose leading articles he quoted frequently. + +“That cursed Empire makes so many blunders of her own that unless we +doubled the year's average I guess it wouldn't strike her anything +special had occurred,” said the second man. “Are you prepared to +say that all our resources are equal to blowing off the muzzle of a +hundred-ton gun or spiking a ten-thousand-ton ship on a plain rock in +clear daylight? They can beat us at our own game. Better join hands +with the practical branches; we're in funds now. Try a direct scare in a +crowded street. They value their greasy hides.” He was the drag upon the +wheel, and an Americanised Irishman of the second generation, despising +his own race and hating the other. He had learned caution. + +The third man drank his cocktail and spoke no word. He was the +strategist, but unfortunately his knowledge of life was limited. He +picked a letter from his breast-pocket and threw it across the table. +That epistle to the heathen contained some very concise directions from +the First Three in New York. It said-- + +“The boom in black iron has already affected the eastern markets, where +our agents have been forcing down the English-held stock among the +smaller buyers who watch the turn of shares. Any immediate operations, +such as western bears, would increase their willingness to unload. +This, however, cannot be expected till they see clearly that foreign +iron-masters are willing to co-operate. Mulcahy should be dispatched +to feel the pulse of the market, and act accordingly. Mavericks are at +present the best for our purpose.--P. D. Q.” + +As a message referring to an iron crisis in Pennsylvania, it was +interesting, if not lucid. As a new departure in organized attack on an +outlying English dependency, it was more than interesting. + +The second man read it through and murmured--“Already? Surely they are +in too great a hurry. All that Dhulip Singh could do in India he has +done, down to the distribution of his photographs among the peasantry. +Ho! Ho! The Paris firm arranged that, and he has no substantial money +backing from the Other Power. Even our agents in India know he hasn't. +What is the use of our organisation wasting men on work that is already +done? Of course the Irish regiments in India are half mutinous as they +stand.” + +This shows how near a lie may come to the truth. An Irish regiment, for +just so long as it stands still, is generally a hard handful to control, +being reckless and rough. When, however, it is moved in the direction of +musketry-firing, it becomes strangely and unpatriotically content with +its lot. It has even been heard to cheer the Queen with enthusiasm on +these occasions. + +But the notion of tampering with the army was, from the point of view of +Tehama Street, an altogether sound one. There is no shadow of stability +in the policy of an English Government, and the most sacred oaths of +England would, even if engrossed on vellum, find very few buyers among +colonies and dependencies that have suffered from vain beliefs. But +there remains to England always her army. That cannot change except +in the matter of uniform and equipment. The officers may write to the +papers demanding the heads of the Horse Guards in default of cleaner +redress for grievances; the men may break loose across a country town +and seriously startle the publicans; but neither officers nor men have +it in their composition to mutiny after the continental manner. The +English people, when they trouble to think about the army at all, are, +and with justice, absolutely assured that it is absolutely trustworthy. +Imagine for a moment their emotions on realising that such and such +a regiment was in open revolt from causes directly due to England's +management of Ireland. They would probably send the regiment to the +polls forthwith and examine their own consciences as to their duty to +Erin; but they would never be easy any more. And it was this vague, +unhappy mistrust that the I. A. A. were labouring to produce. + +“Sheer waste of breath,” said the second man after a pause in the +council. “I don't see the use of tampering with their fool-army, but +it has been tried before and we must try it again. It looks well in the +reports. If we send one man from here you may bet your life that other +men are going too. Order up Mulcahy.” + +They ordered him up--a slim, slight, dark-haired young man, devoured +with that blind rancorous hatred of England that only reaches its full +growth across the Atlantic. He had sucked it from his mother's breast in +the little cabin at the back of the northern avenues of New York; he had +been taught his rights and his wrongs, in German and Irish, on the canal +fronts of Chicago; and San Francisco held men who told him strange and +awful things of the great blind power over the seas. Once, when business +took him across the Atlantic, he had served in an English regiment, and +being insubordinate had suffered extremely. He drew all his ideas of +England that were not bred by the cheaper patriotic prints from one +iron-fisted colonel and an unbending adjutant. He would go to the +mines if need be to teach his gospel. And he went, as his instructions +advised, p. d. q.--which means “with speed”--to introduce embarrassment +into an Irish regiment, “already half-mutinous, quartered among Sikh +peasantry, all wearing miniatures of His Highness Dhulip Singh, +Maharaja of the Punjab, next their hearts, and all eagerly expecting +his arrival.” Other information equally valuable was given him by his +masters. He was to be cautious, but never to grudge expense in winning +the hearts of the men in the regiment. His mother in New York would +supply funds, and he was to write to her once a month. Life is pleasant +for a man who has a mother in New York to send him two hundred pounds a +year over and above his regimental pay. + +In process of time, thanks to his intimate knowledge of drill and +musketry exercise, the excellent Mulcahy, wearing the corporal's stripe, +went out in a troopship and joined Her Majesty's Royal Loyal Musketeers, +commonly known as the “Mavericks,” because they were masterless and +unbranded cattle--sons of small farmers in County Clare, shoeless +vagabonds of Kerry, herders of Ballyvegan, much wanted “moonlighters” + from the bare rainy headlands of the south coast, officered by O'Mores, +Bradys, Hills, Kilreas, and the like. Never to outward seeming was there +more promising material to work on. The First Three had chosen their +regiment well. It feared nothing that moved or talked save the colonel +and the regimental Roman Catholic chaplain, the fat Father Dennis, who +held the keys of heaven and hell, and blared like an angry bull when +he desired to be convincing. Him also it loved because on occasions of +stress he was used to tuck up his cassock and charge with the rest into +the merriest of the fray, where he always found, good man, that the +saints sent him a revolver when there was a fallen private to be +protected, or--but this came as an afterthought his own gray head to be +guarded. + +Cautiously as he had been instructed, tenderly and with much beer, +Mulcahy opened his projects to such as he deemed fittest to listen. +And these were, one and all, of that quaint, crooked, sweet, profoundly +irresponsible and profoundly lovable race that fight like fiends, argue +like children, reason like women, obey like men, and jest like their own +goblins of the rath through rebellion, loyalty, want, woe, or war. The +underground work of a conspiracy is always dull and very much the same +the world over. At the end of six months--the seed always falling on +good ground--Mulcahy spoke almost explicitly, hinting darkly in the +approved fashion at dread powers behind him, and advising nothing more +nor less than mutiny. Were they not dogs, evilly treated? had they not +all their own and their national revenges to satisfy? Who in these days +would do aught to nine hundred men in rebellion? Who, again, could stay +them if they broke for the sea, licking up on their way other regiments +only too anxious to join? And afterwards... here followed windy promises +of gold and preferment, office and honour, ever dear to a certain type +of Irishman. + +As he finished his speech, in the dusk of a twilight, to his chosen +associates, there was a sound of a rapidly unslung belt behind him. The +arm of one Dan Grady flew out in the gloom and arrested something. Then +said Dan-- + +“Mulcahy, you're a great man, an' you do credit to whoever sent you. +Walk about a bit while we think of it.” Mulcahy departed elate. He knew +his words would sink deep. + +“Why the triple-dashed asterisks did ye not let me belt him'?” grunted a +voice. + +“Because I'm not a fat-headed fool. Boys, 'tis what he's been driving +at these six months--our superior corp'ril with his education and his +copies of the Irish papers and his everlasting beer. He's been sent for +the purpose, and that's where the money comes from. Can ye not see? That +man's a gold-mine, which Horse Egan here would have destroyed with a +belt-buckle. It would be throwing away the gifts of Providence not to +fall in with his little plans. Of coorse we'll mut'ny till all's dry. +Shoot the colonel on the parade-ground, massacree the company officers, +ransack the arsenal, and then--Boys, did he tell you what next? He told +me the other night when he was beginning to talk wild. Then we're to +join with the niggers, and look for help from Dhulip Singh and the +Russians!” + +“And spoil the best campaign that ever was this side of Hell! Danny, I'd +have lost the beer to ha' given him the belting he requires.” + +“Oh, let him go this awhile, man! He's got no--no constructiveness, but +that's the egg-meat of his plan, and you must understand that I'm +in with it, an' so are you. We'll want oceans of beer to convince +us--firmaments full. We'll give him talk for his money, and one by one +all the boys'll come in and he'll have a nest of nine hundred mutineers +to squat in an' give drink to.” + +“What makes me killing-mad is his wanting us to do what the niggers +did thirty years gone. That an' his pig's cheek in saying that other +regiments would come along,” said a Kerry man. + +“That's not so bad as hintin' we should loose off on the colonel.” + +“Colonel be sugared! I'd as soon as not put a shot through his helmet +to see him jump and clutch his old horse's head. But Mulcahy talks o' +shootin' our comp'ny orf'cers accidental.” + +“He said that, did he?” said Horse Egan. + +“Somethin' like that, anyways. Can't ye fancy ould Barber Brady wid a +bullet in his lungs, coughin' like a sick monkey, an' sayin', 'Bhoys, +I do not mind your gettin' dhrunk, but you must hould your liquor like +men. The man that shot me is dhrunk. I'll suspend investigations for six +hours, while I get this bullet cut out, and then--'” + +“'An' then,” continued Horse Egan, for the peppery Major's peculiarities +of speech and manner were as well known as his tanned face; “'an' then, +ye dissolute, half-baked, putty-faced scum o' Connemara, if I find a +man so much as lookin' confused, begad, I'll coort-martial the whole +company. A man that can't get over his liquor in six hours is not fit to +belong to the Mavericks!'” + +A shout of laughter bore witness to the truth of the sketch. + +“It's pretty to think of,” said the Kerry man slowly. “Mulcahy would +have us do all the devilmint, and get clear himself, someways. He wudn't +be takin' all this fool's throuble in shpoilin' the reputation of the +regimint--” + +“Reputation of your grandmother's pig!” said Dan. + +“Well, an' he had a good reputation tu; so it's all right. Mulcahy +must see his way to clear out behind him, or he'd not ha' come so far, +talkin' powers of darkness.” + +“Did you hear anything of a regimental coortmartial among the Black +Boneens, these days? Half a company of 'em took one of the new draft +an' hanged him by his arms with a tent-rope from a third-story verandah. +They gave no reason for so doin', but he was half dead. I'm thinking +that the Boneens are short-sighted. It was a friend of Mulcahy's, or +a man in the same trade. They'd a deal better ha' taken his beer,” + returned Dan reflectively. + +“Better still ha' handed him up to the Colonel,” said Horse Egan, +“onless--but sure the news wud be all over the counthry an' give the +reg'ment a bad name.” + +“An' there'd be no reward for that man--he but went about talkin',” said +the Kerry man artlessly. + +“You speak by your breed,” said Dan, with a laugh. “There was never a +Kerry man yet that wudn't sell his brother for a pipe o' tobacco an' a +pat on the back from a p'liceman.” + +“Praise God I'm not a bloomin' Orangeman,” was the answer. + +“No, nor never will be,” said Dan. “They breed men in Ulster. Would you +like to thry the taste of one?” + +The Kerry man looked and longed, but forbore. The odds of battle were +too great. “Then you'll not even give Mulcahy a--a strike for his +money,” said the voice of Horse Egan, who regarded what he called +“trouble” of any kind as the pinnacle of felicity. + +Dan answered not at all, but crept on tip-toe, with long strides, to +the mess-room, the men following. The room was empty. In a corner, cased +like the King of Dahomey's state umbrella, stood the regimental Colours. +Dan lifted them tenderly and unrolled in the light of the candles the +record of the Mavericks--tattered, worn, and hacked. The white satin +was darkened everywhere with big brown stains, the gold threads on the +crowned harp were frayed and discoloured, and the Red Bull, the totem +of the Mavericks, was coffee-hued. The stiff, embroidered folds, whose +price is human life, rustled down slowly. The Mavericks keep their +colours long and guard them very sacredly. + +“Vittoria, Salamanca, Toulouse, Waterloo, Moodkee, Ferozshah, an' +Sobraon--that was fought close next door here, against the very beggars +he wants us to join. Inkerman, The Alma, Sebastopol! 'What are those +little businesses compared to the campaigns of General Mulcahy? The +Mut'ny, think o' that; the Mut'ny an' some dirty little matters in +Afghanistan; an' for that an' these an' those”--Dan pointed to the names +of glorious battles--“that Yankee man with the partin' in his hair comes +an' says as easy as 'have a drink'... Holy Moses, there's the captain!” + +But it was the mess-sergeant who came in just as the men clattered out, +and found the colours uncased. + +From that day dated the mutiny of the Mavericks, to the joy of Mulcahy +and the pride of his mother in New York--the good lady who sent the +money for the beer. Never, so far as words went, was such a mutiny. The +conspirators, led by Dan Grady and Horse Egan, poured in daily. They +were sound men, men to be trusted, and they all wanted blood; but first +they must have beer. They cursed the Queen, they mourned over Ireland, +they suggested hideous plunder of the Indian country-side, and then, +alas--some of the younger men would go forth and wallow on the ground +in spasms of wicked laughter The genius of the Irish for conspiracies is +remarkable. None the less they would swear no oaths but those of their +own making, which were rare and curious, and they were always at pains +to impress Mulcahy with the risks they ran. Naturally the flood of beer +wrought demoralisation. But Mulcahy confused the causes of things, and +when a very muzzy Maverick smote a sergeant on the nose or called his +commanding officer a bald-headed old lard-bladder and even worse +names, he fancied that rebellion and not liquor was at the bottom of +the outbreak. Other gentlemen who have concerned themselves in larger +conspiracies have made the same error. + +The hot season, in which they protested no man could rebel, came to an +end, and Mulcahy suggested a visible return for his teachings. As to the +actual upshot of the mutiny he cared nothing. It would be enough if the +English, infatuatedly trusting to the integrity of their army, should +be startled with news of an Irish regiment revolting from political +considerations. His persistent demands would have ended, at Dan's +instigation, in a regimental belting which in all probability would +have killed him and cut off the supply of beer, had not he been sent on +special duty some fifty miles away from the Cantonment to cool his heels +in a mud fort and dismount obsolete artillery. Then the colonel of +the Mavericks, reading his newspaper diligently, and scenting Frontier +trouble from afar, posted to the army headquarters and pled with the +Commander-in-chief for certain privileges, to be granted under certain +contingencies; which contingencies came about only a week later, when +the annual little war on the border developed itself and the colonel +returned to carry the good news to the Mavericks. He held the promise of +the Chief for active service, and the men must get ready. + +On the evening of the same day, Mulcahy, an unconsidered corporal--yet +great in conspiracy--returned to cantonments, and heard sounds of strife +and howlings from afar off. The mutiny had broken out and the barracks +of the Mavericks were one white-washed pandemonium. A private tearing +through the barrack-square, gasped in his ear, “Service! Active service. +It's a burnin' shame.” Oh joy, the Mavericks had risen on the eve of +battle! They would not--noble and loyal sons of Ireland--serve the +Queen longer. The news would flash through the country-side and over to +England, and he--Mulcahy--the trusted of the Third Three, had brought +about the crash. The private stood in the middle of the square and +cursed colonel, regiment, officers, and doctor, particularly the doctor, +by his gods. An orderly of the native cavalry regiment clattered through +the mob of soldiers. He was half lifted, half dragged from his horse, +beaten on the back with mighty hand-claps till his eyes watered, and +called all manner of endearing names. Yes, the Mavericks had fraternized +with the native troops. Who then was the agent among the latter that had +blindly wrought with Mulcahy so well? + +An officer slunk, almost ran, from the mess to a barrack. He was mobbed +by the infuriated soldiery, who closed round but did not kill him, for +he fought his way to shelter, flying for the life. Mulcahy could +have wept with pure joy and thankfulness. The very prisoners in the +guard-room were shaking the bars of their cells and howling like wild +beasts, and from every barrack poured the booming as of a big war-drum. + +Mulcahy hastened to his own barrack. He could hardly hear himself +speak. Eighty men were pounding with fist and heel the tables and +trestles--eighty men, flushed with mutiny, stripped to their shirt +sleeves, their knapsacks half-packed for the march to the sea, made the +two-inch boards thunder again as they chanted, to a tune that Mulcahy +knew well, the Sacred War Song of the Mavericks-- + + Listen in the north, my boys, there's trouble on the wind; + Tramp o' Cossack hooves in front, gray great-coats behind, + Trouble on the Frontier of a most amazin' kind, + Trouble on the waters o' the Oxus! + +Then, as the table broke under the furious accompaniment-- + + Hurrah! hurrah! it's north by west we go; + Hurrah! hurrah! the chance we wanted so; + Let 'em hear the chorus from Umballa to Moscow, + As we go marchin' to the Kremling. + +“Mother of all the saints in bliss and all the devils in cinders, +where's my fine new sock widout the heel?” howled Horse Egan, ransacking +everybody's valise but his own. He was engaged in making up deficiencies +of kit preparatory to a campaign, and in that work he steals best who +steals last. “Ah, Mulcahy, you're in good time,” he shouted, “We've got +the route, and we're off on Thursday for a pic-nic wid the Lancers next +door.” + +An ambulance orderly appeared with a huge basket full of lint rolls, +provided by the forethought of the Queen for such as might need +them later on. Horse Egan unrolled his bandage, and flicked it under +Mulcahy's nose, chanting-- + + “Sheepskin an' bees' wax, thunder, pitch, and plaster, + The more you try to pull it off, the more it sticks the faster. + As I was goin' to New Orleans-- + +“You know the rest of it, my Irish American-Jew boy. By gad, ye have to +fight for the Queen in the inside av a fortnight, my darlin.” + +A roar of laughter interrupted. Mulcahy looked vacantly down the room. +Bid a boy defy his father when the pantomime-cab is at the door, or +a girl develop a will of her own when her mother is putting the last +touches to the first ball-dress, but do not ask an Irish regiment to +embark upon mutiny on the eve of a campaign, when it has fraternised +with the native regiment that accompanies it, and driven its officers +into retirement with ten thousand clamorous questions, and the prisoners +dance for joy, and the sick men stand in the open calling down all known +diseases on the head of the doctor, who has certified that they are +“medically unfit for active service.” At even the Mavericks might have +been mistaken for mutineers by one so unversed in their natures as +Mulcahy. At dawn a girls' school might have learned deportment from +them. They knew that their colonel's hand had closed, and that he who +broke that iron discipline would not go to the front: nothing in the +world will persuade one of our soldiers, when he is ordered to the north +on the smallest of affairs, that he is not immediately going gloriously +to slay Cossacks and cook his kettles in the palace of the Czar. A few +of the younger men mourned for Mulcahy's beer, because the campaign was +to be conducted on strict temperance principles, but as Dan and Horse +Egan said sternly, “We've got the beer-man with us. He shall drink now +on his own hook.” + +Mulcahy had not taken into account the possibility of being sent on +active service. He had made up his mind that he would not go under any +circumstances, but fortune was against him. + +“Sick-you?” said the doctor, who had served an unholy apprenticeship +to his trade in Tralee poorhouses. “You're only home-sick, and what you +call varicose veins come from over-eating. A little gentle exercise will +cure that.” And later, “Mulcahy, my man, everybody is allowed to apply +for a sick-certificate once. If he tries it twice we call him by an ugly +name. Go back to your duty, and let's hear no more of your diseases.” + +I am ashamed to say that Horse Egan enjoyed the study of Mulcahy's +soul in those days, and Dan took an equal interest. Together they would +communicate to their corporal all the dark lore of death which is the +portion of those who have seen men die. Egan had the larger experience, +but Dan the finer imagination. Mulcahy shivered when the former spoke of +the knife as an intimate acquaintance, or the latter dwelt with loving +particularity on the fate of those who, wounded and helpless, had been +overlooked by the ambulances, and had fallen into the hands of the +Afghan women-folk. + +Mulcahy knew that the mutiny, for the present at least, was dead; knew, +too, that a change had come over Dan's usually respectful attitude +towards him, and Horse Egan's laughter and frequent allusions to +abortive conspiracies emphasised all that the conspirator had guessed. +The horrible fascination of the death-stories, however, made him seek +the men's society. He learned much more than he had bargained for; and +in this manner. It was on the last night before the regiment entrained +to the front. The barracks were stripped of everything movable, and the +men were too excited to sleep. The bare walls gave out a heavy hospital +smell of chloride of lime. + +“And what,” said Mulcahy in an awe-stricken whisper, after some +conversation on the eternal subject, “are you going to do to me, Dan?” + This might have been the language of an able conspirator conciliating a +weak spirit. + +“You'll see,” said Dan grimly, turning over in his cot, “or I rather +shud say you'll not see.” + +This was hardly the language of a weak spirit. Mulcahy shook under the +bed-clothes. + +“Be easy with him,” put in Egan from the next cot. “He has got his +chanst o' goin' clean. Listen, Mulcahy, all we want is for the good sake +of the regiment that you take your death standing up, as a man shud. +There's be heaps an' heaps of enemy--plenshus heaps. Go there an' do all +you can and die decent. You'll die with a good name there. 'Tis not a +hard thing considerin'.” + +Again Mulcahy shivered. + +“An' how could a man wish to die better than fightin'?” added Dan +consolingly. + +“And if I won't?” said the corporal in a dry whisper. + +“There'll be a dale of smoke,” returned Dan, sitting up and ticking off +the situation on his fingers, “sure to be, an' the noise of the firin'll +be tremenjus, an' we'll be running about up and down, the regiment will. +But we, Horse and I--we'll stay by you, Mulcahy, and never let you go. +Maybe there'll be an accident.” + +“It's playing it low on me. Let me go. For pity's sake, let me go. I +never did you harm, and--and I stood you as much beer as I could. Oh, +don't be hard on me, Dan! You are--you were in it too. You won't kill me +up there, will you?” + +“I'm not thinkin' of the treason; though you shud be glad any honest +boys drank with you. It's for the regiment. We can't have the shame o' +you bringin' shame on us. You went to the doctor quiet as a sick cat +to get and stay behind an' live with the women at the depot--you that +wanted us to run to the sea in wolf-packs like the rebels none of your +black blood dared to be! But we knew about your goin' to the doctor, for +he told in mess, and it's all over the regiment. Bein', as we are, your +best friends, we didn't allow any one to molest you yet. We will see to +you ourselves. Fight which you will--us or the enemy you'll never lie +in that cot again, and there's more glory and maybe less kicks from +fightin' the enemy. That's fair speakin'.” + +“And he told us by word of mouth to go and join with the niggers--you've +forgotten that, Dan,” said Horse Egan, to justify sentence. + +“What's the use of plaguin' the man? One shot pays for all. Sleep ye +sound, Mulcahy. But you onderstand, do ye not?” + +Mulcahy for some weeks understood very little of anything at all save +that ever at his elbow, in camp or at parade, stood two big men with +soft voices adjuring him to commit hari-kari lest a worse thing should +happen--to die for the honour of the regiment in decency among the +nearest knives. But Mulcahy dreaded death. He remembered certain things +that priests had said in his infancy, and his mother--not the one at New +York--starting from her sleep with shrieks to pray for a husband's soul +in torment. It is well to be of a cultured intelligence, but in time +of trouble the weak human mind returns to the creed it sucked in at the +breast, and if that creed be not a pretty one trouble follows. Also, +the death he would have to face would be physically painful. Most +conspirators have large imaginations. Mulcahy could see himself, as he +lay on the earth in the night, dying by various causes. They were all +horrible; the mother in New York was very far away, and the Regiment, +the engine that, once you fall in its grip, moves you forward whether +you will or won't, was daily coming closer to the enemy! + +They were brought to the field of Marzun Katai, and with the Black +Boneens to aid, they fought a fight that has never been set down in the +newspapers. In response, many believe, to the fervent prayers of Father +Dennis, the enemy not only elected to fight in the open, but made a +beautiful fight, as many weeping Irish mothers knew later. They gathered +behind walls or flickered across the open in shouting masses, and were +pot-valiant in artillery. It was expedient to hold a large reserve +and wait for the psychological moment that was being prepared by the +shrieking shrapnel. Therefore the Mavericks lay down in open order on +the brow of a hill to watch the play till their call should come. +Father Dennis, whose duty was in the rear, to smooth the trouble of the +wounded, had naturally managed to make his way to the foremost of his +boys, and lay like a black porpoise, at length on the grass. To him +crawled Mulcahy, ashen-gray, demanding absolution. + +“'Wait till you're shot,” said Father Dennis sweetly. “There's a time +for everything.” + +Dan Grady chuckled as he blew for the fiftieth time into the breech of +his speckless rifle. Mulcahy groaned and buried his head in his arms +till a stray shot spoke like a snipe immediately above his head, and a +general heave and tremour rippled the line. Other shots followed and a +few took effect, as a shriek or a grunt attested. The officers, who had +been lying down with the men, rose and began to walk steadily up and +down the front of their companies. + +This manoeuvre, executed, not for publication, but as a guarantee of +good faith, to soothe men, demands nerve. You must not hurry, you must +not look nervous, though you know that you are a mark for every rifle +within extreme range, and above all if you are smitten you must make as +little noise as possible and roll inwards through the files. It is at +this hour, when the breeze brings the first salt whiff of the powder +to noses rather cold at the tip, and the eye can quietly take in the +appearance of each red casualty, that the strain on the nerves is +strongest. Scotch regiments can endure for half a day and abate no +whit of their zeal at the end; English regiments sometimes sulk under +punishment, while the Irish, like the French, are apt to run forward +by ones and twos, which is just as bad as running back. The truly wise +commandant of highly-strung troops allows them, in seasons of waiting, +to hear the sound of their own voices uplifted in song. There is a +legend of an English regiment that lay by its arms under fire chaunting +“Sam Hall,” to the horror of its newly appointed and pious colonel. The +Black Boneens, who were suffering more than the Mavericks, on a hill +half a mile away, began presently to explain to all who cared to +listen-- + + We'll sound the jubilee, from the centre to the sea, + And Ireland shall be free, says the Shan-van Vogh. + +“Sing, boys,” said Father Dennis softly. “It looks as if we cared for +their Afghan peas.” + +Dan Grady raised himself to his knees and opened his mouth in a song +imparted to him, as to most of his comrades, in the strictest confidence +by Mulcahy--that Mulcahy then lying limp and fainting on the grass, the +chill fear of death upon him. + +Company after company caught up the words which, the I. A. A. say, are +to herald the general rising of Erin, and to breathe which, except to +those duly appointed to hear, is death. Wherefore they are printed in +this place. + + The Saxon in Heaven's just balance is weighed, + His doom like Belshazzar's in death has been cast, + And the hand of the venger shall never be stayed + Till his race, faith, and speech are a dream of the past. + +They were heart-filling lines and they ran with a swirl; the I. A. A. +are better served by their pens than their petards. Dan clapped Mulcahy +merrily on the back, asking him to sing up. The officers lay down again. +There was no need to walk any more. Their men were soothing themselves +thunderously, thus-- + + St. Mary in Heaven has written the vow + That the land shall not rest till the heretic blood, + From the babe at the breast to the hand at the plough, + Has rolled to the ocean like Shannon in flood! + +“I'll speak to you after all's over,” said Father Dennis authoritatively +in Dan's ear. “What's the use of confessing to me when you do this +foolishness? Dan, you've been playing with fire! I'll lay you more +penance in a week than--” + +“Come along to Purgatory with us, Father dear. The Boneens are on the +move; they'll let us go now!” + +The regiment rose to the blast of the bugle as one man; but one man +there was who rose more swiftly than all the others, for half an inch of +bayonet was in the fleshy part of his leg. + +“You've got to do it,” said Dan grimly. “Do it decent, anyhow;” and +the roar of the rush drowned his words, for the rear companies thrust +forward the first, still singing as they swung down the slope-- + + From the child at the breast to the hand at the plough + Shall roll to the ocean like Shannon in flood! + +They should have sung it in the face of England, not of the Afghans, +whom it impressed as much as did the wild Irish yell. + +“They came down singing,” said the unofficial report of the enemy, borne +from village to village the next day. “They continued to sing, and it +was written that our men could not abide when they came. It is believed +that there was magic in the aforesaid song.” + +Dan and Horse Egan kept themselves in the neighbourhood of Mulcahy. +Twice the man would have bolted back in the confusion. Twice he was +heaved, kicked, and shouldered back again into the unpaintable inferno +of a hotly contested charge. + +At the end, the panic excess of his fear drove him into madness beyond +all human courage. His eyes staring at nothing, his mouth open and +frothing, and breathing as one in a cold bath, he went forward demented, +while Dan toiled after him. The charge checked at a high mud wall. It +was Mulcahy who scrambled up tooth and nail and hurled down among the +bayonets the amazed Afghan who barred his way. It was Mulcahy, keeping +to the straight line of the rabid dog, who led a collection of ardent +souls at a newly unmasked battery and flung himself on the muzzle of a +gun as his companions danced among the gunners. It was Mulcahy who ran +wildly on from that battery into the open plain, where the enemy were +retiring in sullen groups. His hands were empty, he had lost helmet and +belt, and he was bleeding from a wound in the neck. Dan and Horse Egan, +panting and distressed, had thrown themselves down on the ground by the +captured guns, when they noticed Mulcahy's charge. + +“Mad,” said Horse Egan critically. “Mad with fear! He's going straight +to his death, an' shouting's no use.” + +“Let him go. Watch now! If we fire we'll hit him maybe.” + +The last of a hurrying crowd of Afghans turned at the noise of shod feet +behind him, and shifted his knife ready to hand. This, he saw, was no +time to take prisoners. Mulcahy tore on, sobbing; the straight-held +blade went home through the defenceless breast, and the body pitched +forward almost before a shot from Dan's rifle brought down the slayer +and still further hurried the Afghan retreat. The two Irishmen went out +to bring in their dead. + +“He was given the point, and that was an easy death,” said Horse Egan, +viewing the corpse. “But would you ha' shot him, Danny, if he had +lived?” + +“He didn't live, so there's no sayin'. But I doubt I wud have bekaze +of the fun he gave us--let alone the beer. Hike up his legs, Horse, and +we'll bring him in. Perhaps 'tis better this way.” + +They bore the poor limp body to the mass of the regiment, lolling +open-mouthed on their rifles; and there was a general snigger when one +of the younger subalterns said, “That was a good man!” + +“Phew,” said Horse Egan, when a burial-party had taken over the burden. +“I'm powerful dhry, and this reminds me there'll be no more beer at +all.” + +“Fwhy not?” said Dan, with a twinkle in his eye as he stretched himself +for rest. “Are we not conspirin' all we can, an' while we conspire are +we not entitled to free dhrinks? Sure his ould mother in New York would +not let her son's comrades perish of drouth--if she can be reached at +the end of a letter.” + +“You're a janius,” said Horse Egan. “0' coorse she will not. I wish +this crool war was over, an' we'd get back to canteen. Faith, the +Commander-in-chief ought to be hanged in his own little sword-belt for +makin' us work on wather.” + +The Mavericks were generally of Horse Egan's opinion. So they made +haste to get their work done as soon as possible, and their industry was +rewarded by unexpected peace. “We can fight the sons of Adam,” said the +tribesmen, “but we cannot fight the sons of Eblis, and this regiment +never stays still in one place. Let us therefore come in.” They came +in, and “this regiment” withdrew to conspire under the leadership of Dan +Grady. + +Excellent as a subordinate, Dan failed altogether as a +chief-in-command--possibly because he was too much swayed by the advice +of the only man in the regiment who could manufacture more than one kind +of handwriting. The same mail that bore to Mulcahy's mother in New York +a letter from the colonel telling her how valiantly her son had fought +for the Queen, and how assuredly he would have been recommended for the +Victoria Cross had he survived, carried a communication signed, I grieve +to say, by that same colonel and all the officers of the regiment, +explaining their willingness to do “anything which is contrary to the +regulations and all kinds of revolutions” if only a little money could +be forwarded to cover incidental expenses. Daniel Grady, Esquire, would +receive funds, vice Mulcahy, who “was unwell at this present time of +writing.” + +Both letters were forwarded from New York to Tehama Street, San +Francisco, with marginal comments as brief as they were bitter. +The Third Three read and looked at each other. Then the Second +Conspirator--he who believed in “joining hands with the practical +branches”--began to laugh, and on recovering his gravity said, +“Gentlemen, I consider this will be a lesson to us. We're left again. +Those cursed Irish have let us down. I knew they would, but”--here he +laughed afresh--“I'd give considerable to know what was at the back of +it all.” + +His curiosity would have been satisfied had he seen Dan Grady, +discredited regimental conspirator, trying to explain to his thirsty +comrades in India the non-arrival of funds from New York. + + + + +THE MAN WHO WAS + + The Earth gave up her dead that tide, + Into our camp he came, + And said his say, and went his way, + And left our hearts aflame. + + Keep tally--on the gun-butt score + The vengeance we must take, + When God shall bring full reckoning, + For our dead comrade's sake. + + Ballad. + +Let it be clearly understood that the Russian is a delightful person +till he tucks in his shirt. As an Oriental he is charming. It is only +when he insists upon being treated as the most easterly of western +peoples instead of the most westerly of easterns that he becomes a +racial anomaly extremely difficult to handle. The host never knows which +side of his nature is going to turn up next. + +Dirkovitch was a Russian--a Russian of the Russians--who appeared to get +his bread by serving the Czar as an officer in a Cossack regiment, and +corresponding for a Russian newspaper with a name that was never twice +alike. He was a handsome young Oriental, fond of wandering through +unexplored portions of the earth, and he arrived in India from nowhere +in particular. At least no living man could ascertain whether it was by +way of Balkh, Badakshan, Chitral, Beluchistan, or Nepaul, or anywhere +else. The Indian Government, being in an unusually affable mood, gave +orders that he was to be civilly treated and shown everything that was +to be seen. So he drifted, talking bad English and worse French, from +one city to another, till he foregathered with Her Majesty's White +Hussars in the city of Peshawur, which stands at the mouth of that +narrow swordcut in the hills that men call the Khyber Pass. He was +undoubtedly an officer, and he was decorated after the manner of the +Russians with little enamelled crosses, and he could talk, and (though +this has nothing to do with his merits) he had been given up as a +hopeless task, or cask, by the Black Tyrone, who individually and +collectively, with hot whiskey and honey, mulled brandy, and mixed +spirits of every kind, had striven in all hospitality to make him drunk. +And when the Black Tyrone, who are exclusively Irish, fail to disturb +the peace of head of a foreigner--that foreigner is certain to be a +superior man. + +The White Hussars were as conscientious in choosing their wine as in +charging the enemy. All that they possessed, including some wondrous +brandy, was placed at the absolute disposition of Dirkovitch, and he +enjoyed himself hugely--even more than among the Black Tyrones. + +But he remained distressingly European through it all. The White Hussars +were “My dear true friends,” “Fellow-soldiers glorious,” and “Brothers +inseparable.” He would unburden himself by the hour on the glorious +future that awaited the combined arms of England and Russia when their +hearts and their territories should run side by side, and the great +mission of civilising Asia should begin. That was unsatisfactory, +because Asia is not going to be civilised after the methods of the West. +There is too much Asia and she is too old. You cannot reform a lady of +many lovers, and Asia has been insatiable in her flirtations aforetime. +She will never attend Sunday-school or learn to vote save with swords +for tickets. + +Dirkovitch knew this as well as any one else, but it suited him to talk +special-correspondently and to make himself as genial as he could. Now +and then he volunteered a little, a very little, information about +his own sotnia of Cossacks, left apparently to look after themselves +somewhere at the back of beyond. He had done rough work in Central Asia, +and had seen rather more help-yourself fighting than most men of his +years. But he was careful never to betray his superiority, and more than +careful to praise on all occasions the appearance, drill, uniform, and +organisation of Her Majesty's White Hussars. And indeed they were a +regiment to be admired. When Lady Durgan, widow of the late Sir John +Durgan, arrived in their station, and after a short time had been +proposed to by every single man at mess, she put the public sentiment +very neatly when she explained that they were all so nice that unless +she could marry them all, including the colonel and some majors already +married, she was not going to content herself with one hussar. +Wherefore she wedded a little man in a rifle regiment, being by nature +contradictious; and the White Hussars were going to wear crape on their +arms, but compromised by attending the wedding in full force, and lining +the aisle with unutterable reproach. She had jilted them all--from +Basset-Holmer the senior captain to little Mildred the junior subaltern, +who could have given her four thousand a year and a title. + +The only persons who did not share the general regard for the White +Hussars were a few thousand gentlemen of Jewish extraction who lived +across the border, and answered to the name of Pathan. They had once met +the regiment officially and for something less than twenty minutes, but +the interview, which was complicated with many casualties, had filled +them with prejudice. They even called the White Hussars children of the +devil and sons of persons whom it would be perfectly impossible to meet +in decent society. Yet they were not above making their aversion +fill their money-belts. The regiment possessed carbines--beautiful +Martini-Henry carbines that would lob a bullet into an enemy's camp at +one thousand yards, and were even handier than the long rifle. Therefore +they were coveted all along the border, and since demand inevitably +breeds supply, they were supplied at the risk of life and limb for +exactly their weight in coined silver--seven and one half pounds' weight +of rupees, or sixteen pounds sterling reckoning the rupee at par. +They were stolen at night by snaky-haired thieves who crawled on their +stomachs under the nose of the sentries; they disappeared mysteriously +from locked arm-racks, and in the hot weather, when all the barrack +doors and windows were open, they vanished like puffs of their +own smoke. The border people desired them for family vendettas and +contingencies. But in the long cold nights of the northern Indian winter +they were stolen most extensively. The traffic of murder was liveliest +among the hills at that season, and prices ruled high. The regimental +guards were first doubled and then trebled. A trooper does not much +care if he loses a weapon--Government must make it good--but he deeply +resents the loss of his sleep. The regiment grew very angry, and one +rifle-thief bears the visible marks of their anger upon him to this +hour. That incident stopped the burglaries for a time, and the guards +were reduced accordingly, and the regiment devoted itself to polo with +unexpected results; for it beat by two goals to one that very terrible +polo corps the Lushkar Light Horse, though the latter had four ponies +apiece for a short hour's fight, as well as a native officer who played +like a lambent flame across the ground. + +They gave a dinner to celebrate the event. The Lushkar team came, and +Dirkovitch came, in the fullest full uniform of a Cossack officer, which +is as full as a dressing-gown, and was introduced to the Lushkars, and +opened his eyes as he regarded. They were lighter men than the Hussars, +and they carried themselves with the swing that is the peculiar right of +the Punjab Frontier Force and all Irregular Horse. Like everything else +in the Service it has to be learnt, but, unlike many things, it is never +forgotten, and remains on the body till death. + +The great beam-roofed mess-room of the White Hussars was a sight to be +remembered. All the mess plate was out on the long table--the same table +that had served up the bodies of five officers after a forgotten fight +long and long ago--the dingy, battered standards faced the door of +entrance, clumps of winter-roses lay between the silver candlesticks, +and the portraits of eminent officers deceased looked down on their +successors from between the heads of sambhur, nilghai, markhor, +and, pride of all the mess, two grinning snow-leopards that had cost +Basset-Holmer four months' leave that he might have spent in England, +instead of on the road to Thibet and the daily risk of his life by +ledge, snow-slide, and grassy slope. + +The servants in spotless white muslin and the crest of their regiments +on the brow of their turbans waited behind their masters, who were clad +in the scarlet and gold of the White Hussars, and the cream and silver +of the Lushkar Light Horse. Dirkovitch's dull green uniform was the only +dark spot at the board, but his big onyx eyes made up for it. He was +fraternising effusively with the captain of the Lushkar team, who was +wondering how many of Dirkovitch's Cossacks his own dark wiry +down-countrymen could account for in a fair charge. But one does not +speak of these things openly. + +The talk rose higher and higher, and the regimental band played between +the courses, as is the immemorial custom, till all tongues ceased for +a moment with the removal of the dinner-slips and the first toast of +obligation, when an officer rising said, “Mr. Vice, the Queen,” and +little Mildred from the bottom of the table answered, “The Queen, God +bless her,” and the big spurs clanked as the big men heaved themselves +up and drank the Queen upon whose pay they were falsely supposed to +settle their mess-bills. That Sacrament of the Mess never grows old, and +never ceases to bring a lump into the throat of the listener wherever he +be by sea or by land. Dirkovitch rose with his “brothers glorious,” but +he could not understand. No one but an officer can tell what the toast +means; and the bulk have more sentiment than comprehension. Immediately +after the little silence that follows on the ceremony there entered the +native officer who had played for the Lushkar team. He could not, of +course, eat with the mess, but he came in at dessert, all six feet +of him, with the blue and silver turban atop, and the big black boots +below. The mess rose joyously as he thrust forward the hilt of his sabre +in token of fealty for the colonel of the White Hussars to touch, and +dropped into a vacant chair amid shouts of: “Rung ho, Hira Singh!” + (which being translated means “Go in and win”). “Did I whack you over +the knee, old man?” “Ressaidar Sahib, what the devil made you play that +kicking pig of a pony in the last ten minutes?” “Shabash, Ressaidar +Sahib!” Then the voice of the colonel, “The health of Ressaidar Hira +Singh!” + +After the shouting had died away Hira Singh rose to reply, for he was +the cadet of a royal house, the son of a king's son, and knew what was +due on these occasions. Thus he spoke in the vernacular:--“Colonel Sahib +and officers of this regiment. Much honour have you done me. This will I +remember. We came down from afar to play you. But we were beaten.” (“No +fault of yours, Ressaidar Sahib. Played on our own ground, y' know. +Your ponies were cramped from the railway. Don't apologise!”) “Therefore +perhaps we will come again if it be so ordained.” (“Hear! Hear! Hear, +indeed! Bravo! Hsh!”) “Then we will play you afresh” (“Happy to meet +you.”) “till there are left no feet upon our ponies. Thus far for +sport.” He dropped one hand on his sword-hilt and his eye wandered to +Dirkovitch lolling back in his chair. “But if by the will of God there +arises any other game which is not the polo game, then be assured, +Colonel Sahib and officers, that we will play it out side by side, +though they,” again his eye sought Dirkovitch, “though they, I say, have +fifty ponies to our one horse.” And with a deep-mouthed Rung ho! +that sounded like a musket-butt on flagstones he sat down amid leaping +glasses. + +Dirkovitch, who had devoted himself steadily to the brandy--the terrible +brandy aforementioned--did not understand, nor did the expurgated +translations offered to him at all convey the point. Decidedly Hira +Singh's was the speech of the evening, and the clamour might have +continued to the dawn had it not been broken by the noise of a shot +without that sent every man feeling at his defenseless left side. Then +there was a scuffle and a yell of pain. + +“Carbine-stealing again!” said the adjutant, calmly sinking back in +his chair. “This comes of reducing the guards. I hope the sentries have +killed him.” + +The feet of armed men pounded on the verandah flags, and it was as +though something was being dragged. + +“Why don't they put him in the cells till the morning?” said the colonel +testily. “See if they've damaged him, sergeant.” + +The mess sergeant fled out into the darkness and returned with two +troopers and a corporal, all very much perplexed. + +“Caught a man stealin' carbines, sir,” said the corporal. “Leastways 'e +was crawlin' towards the barricks, sir, past the main road sentries, an' +the sentry 'e sez, sir--” + +The limp heap of rags upheld by the three men groaned. Never was seen so +destitute and demoralised an Afghan. He was turbanless, shoeless, caked +with dirt, and all but dead with rough handling. Hira Singh started +slightly at the sound of the man's pain. Dirkovitch took another glass +of brandy. + +“What does the sentry say?” said the colonel. + +“Sez 'e speaks English, sir,” said the corporal. + +“So you brought him into mess instead of handing him over to the +sergeant! If he spoke all the Tongues of the Pentecost you've no +business--” + +Again the bundle groaned and muttered. Little Mildred had risen from his +place to inspect. He jumped back as though he had been shot. + +“Perhaps it would be better, sir, to send the men away,” said he to the +colonel, for he was a much privileged subaltern. He put his arms round +the rag-bound horror as he spoke, and dropped him into a chair. It may +not have been explained that the littleness of Mildred lay in his being +six feet four and big in proportion. The corporal seeing that an officer +was disposed to look after the capture, and that the colonel's eye was +beginning to blaze, promptly removed himself and his men. The mess was +left alone with the carbine-thief, who laid his head on the table and +wept bitterly, hopelessly, and inconsolably as little children weep. + +Hira Singh leapt to his feet. “Colonel Sahib,” said he, “that man is no +Afghan, for they weep Ai! Ai! Nor is he of Hindustan, for they weep Oh! +Ho! He weeps after the fashion of the white men, who say Ow! Ow!” + +“Now where the dickens did you get that knowledge, Hira Singh?” said the +captain of the Lushkar team. + +“Hear him!” said Hira Singh simply, pointing at the crumpled figure that +wept as though it would never cease. + +“He said, 'My God!” said little Mildred. “I heard him say it.” + +The colonel and the mess-room looked at the man in silence. It is a +horrible thing to hear a man cry. A woman can sob from the top--of +her palate, or her lips, or anywhere else, but a man must cry from his +diaphragm, and it rends him to pieces. + +“Poor devil!” said the colonel, coughing tremendously. “We ought to send +him to hospital. He's been man-handled.” + +Now the adjutant loved his carbines. They were to him as his +grandchildren, the men standing in the first place. He grunted +rebelliously: “I can understand an Afghan stealing, because he's built +that way. But I can't understand his crying. That makes it worse.” + +The brandy must have affected Dirkovitch, for he lay back in his chair +and stared at the ceiling. There was nothing special in the ceiling +beyond a shadow as of a huge black coffin. Owing to some peculiarity in +the construction of the mess-room, this shadow was always thrown when +the candles were lighted. It never disturbed the digestion of the White +Hussars. They were in fact rather proud of it. + +“Is he going to cry all night?” said the colonel, “or are we supposed to +sit up with little Mildred's guest until he feels better?” + +The man in the chair threw up his head and stared at the mess. “Oh, my +God!” he said, and every soul in the mess rose to his feet. Then the +Lushkar captain did a deed for which he ought to have been given the +Victoria Cross--distinguished gallantry in a fight against overwhelming +curiosity. He picked up his team with his eyes as the hostess picks up +the ladies at the opportune moment, and pausing only by the colonel's +chair to say, “This isn't our affair, you know, sir,” led them into the +verandah and the gardens. Hira Singh was the last to go, and he looked +at Dirkovitch. But Dirkovitch had departed into a brandy-paradise of his +own. His lips moved without sound and he was studying the coffin on the +ceiling. + +“White--white all over,” said Basset-Holmer, the adjutant. “What a +pernicious renegade he must be! I wonder where he came from?” + +The colonel shook the man gently by the arm, and “Who are you?” said he. + +There was no answer. The man stared round the mess-room and smiled in +the colonel's face. Little Mildred, who was always more of a woman than +a man till “Boot and saddle” was sounded, repeated the question in a +voice that would have drawn confidences from a geyser. The man only +smiled. Dirkovitch at the far end of the table slid gently from his +chair to the floor. No son of Adam in this present imperfect world can +mix the Hussars' champagne with the Hussars' brandy by five and eight +glasses of each without remembering the pit whence he was digged and +descending thither. The band began to play the tune with which the +White Hussars from the date of their formation have concluded all their +functions. They would sooner be disbanded than abandon that tune; it is +a part of their system. The man straightened himself in his chair and +drummed on the table with his fingers. + +“I don't see why we should entertain lunatics,” said the colonel. “Call +a guard and send him off to the cells. We'll look into the business in +the morning. Give him a glass of wine first, though.” + +Little Mildred filled a sherry-glass with the brandy and thrust it over +to the man. He drank, and the tune rose louder, and he straightened +himself yet more. Then he put out his long-taloned hands to a piece of +plate opposite and fingered it lovingly. There was a mystery connected +with that piece of plate, in the shape of a spring which converted what +was a seven-branched candlestick, three springs on each side and one in +the middle, into a sort of wheel-spoke candelabrum. He found the spring, +pressed it, and laughed weakly. He rose from his chair and inspected a +picture on the wall, then moved on to another picture, the mess watching +him without a word. When he came to the mantelpiece he shook his head +and seemed distressed. A piece of plate representing a mounted hussar +in full uniform caught his eye. He pointed to it, and then to the +mantelpiece with inquiry in his eyes. + +“What is it--Oh, what is it?” said little Mildred. Then as a mother +might speak to a child, “That is a horse. Yes, a horse.” + +Very slowly came the answer in a thick, passionless guttural--“Yes, +I--have seen. But--where is the horse?” + +You could have heard the hearts of the mess beating as the men drew back +to give the stranger full room in his wanderings. There was no question +of calling the guard. + +Again he spoke--very slowly, “Where is our horse?” + +There is but one horse in the White Hussars, and his portrait hangs +outside the door of the mess-room. He is the piebald drum-horse, +the king of the regimental band, that served the regiment for +seven-and-thirty years, and in the end was shot for old age. Half the +mess tore the thing down from its place and thrust it into the man's +hands. He placed it above the mantelpiece, it clattered on the ledge as +his poor hands dropped it, and he staggered towards the bottom of the +table, falling into Mildred's chair. Then all the men spoke to one +another something after this fashion, “The drum-horse hasn't hung over +the mantelpiece since '67.” “How does he know?” “Mildred, go and speak +to him again.” “Colonel, what are you going to do?” “Oh, dry up, and +give the poor devil a chance to pull himself together.” “It isn't +possible anyhow. The man's a lunatic.” + +Little Mildred stood at the colonel's side, talking in his ear. “Will +you be good enough to take your seats please, gentlemen!” he said, and +the mess dropped into the chairs. Only Dirkovitch's seat, next to little +Mildred's, was blank, and little Mildred himself had found Hira Singh's +place. The wide-eyed mess-sergeant filled the glasses in dead silence. +Once more the colonel rose, but his hand shook, and the port spilled on +the table as he looked straight at the man in little Mildred's chair and +said hoarsely, “Mr. Vice, the Queen.” There was a little pause, but the +man sprung to his feet and answered without hesitation, “The Queen, +God bless her!” and as he emptied the thin glass he snapped the shank +between his fingers. + +Long and long ago, when the Empress of India was a young woman, and +there were no unclean ideals in the land, it was the custom of a few +messes to drink the Queen's toast in broken glass, to the vast delight +of the mess-contractors. The custom is now dead, because there is +nothing to break anything for, except now and again the word of a +Government, and that has been broken already. + +“That settles it,” said the colonel, with a gasp. “He's not a sergeant. +What in the world is he?” + +The entire mess echoed the word, and the volley of questions would have +scared any man. It was no wonder that the ragged, filthy invader could +only smile and shake his head. + +From under the table, calm and smiling, rose Dirkovitch, who had been +roused from healthful slumber by feet upon his body. By the side of +the man he rose, and the man shrieked and grovelled. It was a horrible +sight, coming so swiftly upon the pride and glory of the toast that had +brought the strayed wits together. + +Dirkovitch made no offer to raise him, but little Mildred heaved him +up in an instant. It is not good that a gentleman who can answer to the +Queen's toast should lie at the feet of a subaltern of Cossacks. + +The hasty action tore the wretch's upper clothing nearly to the waist, +and his body was seamed with dry black scars. There is only one weapon +in the world that cuts in parallel lines, and it is neither the cane nor +the cat. Dirkovitch saw the marks, and the pupils of his eyes dilated. +Also his face changed. He said something that sounded like Shto ve +takete, and the man fawning answered, Chetyre. + +“What's that?” said everybody together. + +“His number. That is number four, you know.” Dirkovitch spoke very +thickly. + +“What has a Queen's officer to do with a qualified number?” said the +Colonel, and an unpleasant growl ran round the table. + +“How can I tell?” said the affable Oriental with a sweet smile. “He +is a--how you have it?--escape--run-a-way, from over there.” He nodded +towards the darkness of the night. + +“Speak to him if he'll answer you, and speak to him gently,” said little +Mildred, settling the man in a chair. It seemed most improper to all +present that Dirkovitch should sip brandy as he talked in purring, +spitting Russian to the creature who answered so feebly and with such +evident dread. But since Dirkovitch appeared to understand, no one said +a word. All breathed heavily, leaning forward, in the long gaps of the +conversation. The next time that they have no engagements on hand the +White Hussars intend to go to St. Petersburg in a body to learn Russian. + +“He does not know how many years ago,” said Dirkovitch, facing the mess, +“but he says it was very long ago in a war. I think that there was an +accident. He says he was of this glorious and distinguished regiment in +the war.” + +“The rolls! The rolls! Holmer, get the rolls!” said little Mildred, +and the adjutant dashed off bare-headed to the orderly-room, where the +muster-rolls of the regiment were kept. He returned just in time to hear +Dirkovitch conclude, “Therefore, my dear friends, I am most sorry to +say there was an accident which would have been reparable if he had +apologised to that our colonel, which he had insulted.” + +Then followed another growl which the colonel tried to beat down. The +mess was in no mood just then to weigh insults to Russian colonels. + +“He does not remember, but I think that there was an accident, and so +he was not exchanged among the prisoners, but he was sent to another +place--how do you say?--the country. So, he says, he came here. He does +not know how he came. Eh? He was at Chepany,”--the man caught the word, +nodded, and shivered,--“at Zhigansk and Irkutsk. I cannot understand how +he escaped. He says, too, that he was in the forests for many years, +but how many years he has forgotten--that with many things. It was an +accident; done because he did not apologise to that our colonel. Ah!” + +Instead of echoing Dirkovitch's sigh of regret, it is sad to record +that the White Hussars livelily exhibited un-Christian delight and other +emotions, hardly restrained by their sense of hospitality. Holmer flung +the frayed and yellow regimental rolls on the table, and the men flung +themselves at these. + +“Steady! Fifty-six--fifty-five--fifty-four,” said Holmer. “Here we are. +'Lieutenant Austin Limmason. Missing.' That was before Sebastopol. +What an infernal shame! Insulted one of their colonels, and was quietly +shipped off. Thirty years of his life wiped out.” + +“But he never apologised. Said he'd see him damned first,” chorused the +mess. + +“Poor chap! I suppose he never had the chance afterwards. How did he +come here?” said the colonel. + +The dingy heap in the chair could give no answer. + +“Do you know who you are?” + +It laughed weakly. + +“Do you know that you are Limmason--Lieutenant Limmason of the White +Hussars?” + +Swiftly as a shot came the answer, in a slightly surprised tone, “Yes, +I'm--Limmason, of course.” The light died out in his eyes, and the man +collapsed, watching every motion of Dirkovitch with terror. A flight +from Siberia may fix a few elementary facts in the mind, but it does not +seem to lead to continuity of thought. The man could not explain how, +like a homing pigeon, he had found his way to his own old mess again. +Of what he had suffered or seen he knew nothing. He cringed before +Dirkovitch as instinctively as he had pressed the spring of the +candlestick, sought the picture of the drum-horse, and answered to the +toast of the Queen. The rest was a blank that the dreaded Russian tongue +could only in part remove. His head bowed on his breast, and he giggled +and cowered alternately. + +The devil that lived in the brandy prompted Dirkovitch at this extremely +inopportune moment to make a speech. He rose, swaying slightly, gripped +the table-edge, while his eyes glowed like opals, and began: + +“Fellow-soldiers glorious--true friends and hospitables. It was an +accident, and deplorable--most deplorable.” Here he smiled sweetly all +round the mess. “But you will think of this little, little thing. So +little, is it not? The Czar! Posh! I slap my fingers--I snap my fingers +at him. Do I believe in him? No! But in us Slav who has done nothing, +him I believe. Seventy--how much--millions peoples that have done +nothing--not one thing. Posh! Napoleon was an episode.” He banged a +hand on the table. “Hear you, old peoples, we have done nothing in +the world--out here. All our work is to do; and it shall be done, old +peoples. Get a-way!” He waved his hand imperiously, and pointed to the +man. “You see him. He is not good to see. He was just one little--oh, so +little--accident, that no one remembered. Now he is----” + +“That! So will you be, brother soldiers so brave so will you be. But you +will never come back. You will all go where he is gone, or”--he pointed +to the great coffin-shadow on the ceiling, and muttering, “Seventy +millions--get a-way, you old peoples,” fell asleep. + +“Sweet, and to the point,” said little Mildred. “What's the use of +getting wroth? Let's make this poor devil comfortable.” + +But that was a matter suddenly and swiftly taken from the loving hands +of the White Hussars. The lieutenant had returned only to go away again +three days later, when the wail of the Dead March, and the tramp of the +squadrons, told the wondering Station, who saw no gap in the mess-table, +that an officer of the regiment had resigned his new-found commission. + +And Dirkovitch, bland, supple, and always genial, went away too by a +night train. Little Mildred and another man saw him off, for he was the +guest of the mess, and even had he smitten the colonel with the open +hand, the law of that mess allowed no relaxation of hospitality. + +“Good-bye, Dirkovitch, and a pleasant journey,” said little Mildred. + +“Au revoir,” said the Russian. + +“Indeed! But we thought you were going home?” + +“Yes, but I will come again. My dear friends, is that road shut?” He +pointed to where the North Star burned over the Khyber Pass. + +“By Jove! I forgot. Of course. Happy to meet you, old man, any time you +like. Got everything you want? Cheroots, ice, bedding? That's all right. +Well, au revoir, Dirkovitch.” + +“Um,” said the other man, as the tail-lights of the train grew small. +“Of--all--the--unmitigated!” + +Little Mildred answered nothing, but watched the North Star and hummed a +selection from recent Simla burlesque that had much delighted the White +Hussars. It ran-- + + I'm sorry for Mister Bluebeard, + I'm sorry to cause him pain; + But a terrible spree there's sure to be + When he comes back again. + + + + +ONLY A SUBALTERN + + Not only to enforce by command but to encourage by example + the energetic discharge of duty and the steady endurance of + the difficulties and privations inseparable from Military + Service.--Bengal Army Regulations. + +They made Bobby Wick pass an examination at Sandhurst. He was a +gentleman before he was gazetted, so, when the Empress announced that +“Gentleman-Cadet Robert Hanna Wick” was posted as Second Lieutenant to +the Tyneside Tail Twisters at Krab Bokhar, he became an officer and a +gentleman, which is an enviable thing; and there was joy in the house +of Wick, where Mamma Wick and all the little Wicks fell upon their knees +and offered incense to Bobby by virtue of his achievements. + +Papa Wick had been a Commissioner in his day, holding authority over +three millions of men in the Chota-Buldana Division, building great +works for the good of the land, and doing his best to make two blades +of grass grow where there was but one before. Of course, nobody knew +anything about this in the little English village where he was just “old +Mr. Wick” and had forgotten that he was a Companion of the Order of the +Star of India. + +He patted Bobby on the shoulder and said: “Well done, my boy!” + +There followed, while the uniform was being prepared, an interval of +pure delight, during which Bobby took brevet-rank as a “man” at the +women-swamped tennis-parties and tea-fights of the village, and, I +daresay, had his joining-time been extended, would have fallen in love +with several girls at once. Little country villages at Home are very +full of nice girls, because all the young men come out to India to make +their fortunes. + +“India,” said Papa Wick, “is the place. I've had thirty years of it, +and, begad, I'd like to go back again. When you join the Tail Twisters +you'll be among friends, if every one hasn't forgotten Wick of +Chota-Buldana, and a lot of people will be kind to you for our sakes. +The mother will tell you more about outfit than I can, but remember +this. Stick to your Regiment, Bobby--stick to your Regiment. You'll see +men all round you going into the Staff Corps, and doing every possible +sort of duty but regimental, and you may be tempted to follow suit. Now +so long as you keep within your allowance, and I haven't stinted you +there, stick to the Line, the whole Line, and nothing but the Line. Be +careful how you back another young fool's bill, and if you fall in love +with a woman twenty years older than yourself, don't tell me about it, +that's all.” + +With these counsels, and many others equally valuable, did Papa Wick +fortify Bobby ere that last awful night at Portsmouth when the Officers' +Quarters held more inmates than were provided for by the Regulations, +and the liberty-men of the ships fell foul of the drafts for India, and +the battle raged from the Dockyard Gates even to the slums of Longport, +while the drabs of Fratton came down and scratched the faces of the +Queen's Officers. + +Bobby Wick, with an ugly bruise on his freckled nose, a sick and shaky +detachment to manoeuvre inship, and the comfort of fifty scornful +females to attend to, had no time to feel homesick till the Malabar +reached mid-Channel, when he doubled his emotions with a little +guard-visiting and a great many other matters. + +The Tail Twisters were a most particular Regiment. Those who knew them +least said that they were eaten up with “side.” But their reserve and +their internal arrangements generally were merely protective diplomacy. +Some five years before, the Colonel commanding had looked into the +fourteen fearless eyes of seven plump and juicy subalterns who had all +applied to enter the Staff Corps, and had asked them why the three +stars should he, a colonel of the Line, command a dashed nursery for +double-dashed bottle-suckers who put on condemned tin spurs and rode +qualified mokes at the hiatused heads of forsaken Black Regiments. He +was a rude man and a terrible. Wherefore the remnant took measures +(with the half-butt as an engine of public opinion) till the rumour +went abroad that young men who used the Tail Twisters as a crutch to the +Staff Corps had many and varied trials to endure. However, a regiment +has just as much right to its own secrets as a woman. + +When Bobby came up from Deolali and took his place among the Tail +Twisters, it was gently but firmly borne in upon him that the Regiment +was his father and his mother and his indissolubly wedded wife, and +that there was no crime under the canopy of heaven blacker than that +of bringing shame on the Regiment, which was the best-shooting, +best-drilled, best set-up, bravest, most illustrious, and in all +respects most desirable Regiment within the compass of the Seven Seas. +He was taught the legends of the Mess Plate, from the great grinning +Golden Gods that had come out of the Summer Palace in Pekin to the +silver-mounted markhor-horn snuffmull presented by the last C. O. (he +who spake to the seven subalterns). And every one of those legends told +him of battles fought at long odds, without fear as without support; of +hospitality catholic as an Arab's; of friendships deep as the sea and +steady as the fighting-line; of honour won by hard roads for honour's +sake; and of instant and unquestioning devotion to the Regiment--the +Regiment that claims the lives of all and lives forever. + +More than once, too, he came officially into contact with the Regimental +colours, which looked like the lining of a bricklayer's hat on the end +of a chewed stick. Bobby did not kneel and worship them, because British +subalterns are not constructed in that manner. Indeed, he condemned them +for their weight at the very moment that they were filling him with awe +and other more noble sentiments. + +But best of all was the occasion when he moved with the Tail Twisters +in review order at the breaking of a November day. Allowing for duty-men +and sick, the Regiment was one thousand and eighty strong, and Bobby +belonged to them; for was he not a Subaltern of the Line,--the whole +Line and nothing but the Line,--as the tramp of two thousand one hundred +and sixty sturdy ammunition boots attested? He would not have changed +places with Deighton of the Horse Battery, whirling by in a pillar of +cloud to a chorus of “Strong right! Strong left!” or Hogan-Yale of the +White Hussars, leading his squadron for all it was worth, with the price +of horseshoes thrown in; or “Tick” Boileau, trying to live up to his +fierce blue and gold turban while the wasps of the Bengal Cavalry +stretched to a gallop in the wake of the long, lollopping Walers of the +White Hussars. + +They fought through the clear cool day, and Bobby felt a little thrill +run down his spine when he heard the tinkle-tinkle-tinkle of the empty +cartridge-cases hopping from the breech-blocks after the roar of the +volleys; for he knew that he should live to hear that sound in action. +The review ended in a glorious chase across the plain--batteries +thundering after cavalry to the huge disgust of the White Hussars, and +the Tyneside Tail Twisters hunting a Sikh Regiment till the lean, lathy +Singhs panted with exhaustion. Bobby was dusty and dripping long before +noon, but his enthusiasm was merely focused--not diminished. + +He returned to sit at the feet of Revere, his “skipper,” that is to say, +the Captain of his Company, and to be instructed in the dark art and +mystery of managing men, which is a very large part of the Profession of +Arms. + +“If you haven't a taste that way,” said Revere between his puffs of +his cheroot, “you'll never be able to get the hang of it, but remember, +Bobby, 'tisn't the best drill, though drill is nearly everything, that +hauls a Regiment through Hell and out on the other side. It's the man +who knows how to handle men--goat-men, swine-men, dog-men, and so on.” + +“Dormer, for instance,” said Bobby; “I think he comes under the head of +fool-men. He mopes like a sick owl.” + +“That 's where you make your mistake, my son. Dormer isn't a fool yet, +but he's a dashed dirty soldier, and his room corporal makes fun of his +socks before kit-inspection. Dormer, being two-thirds pure brute, goes +into a corner and growls.” + +“How do you know'?” said Bobby admiringly. + +“Because a Company commander has to know these things--because, if he +does not know, he may have crime--ay, murder--brewing under his very +nose and yet not see that it's there. Dormer is being badgered out of +his mind--big as he is--and he hasn't intellect enough to resent it. +He's taken to quiet boozing, and, Bobby, when the butt of a room goes on +the drink, or takes to moping by himself, measures are necessary to pull +him out of himself.” + +“What measures? Man can't run round coddling his men for ever.” + +“No. The men would precious soon show him that he was not wanted. You've +got to--” + +Here the Colour-sergeant entered with some papers; Bobby reflected for a +while as Revere looked through the Company forms. + +“Does Dormer do anything, Sergeant?” Bobby asked with the air of one +continuing an interrupted conversation. + +“No, sir. Does 'is dooty like a hortomato,” said the Sergeant, who +delighted in long words. “A dirty soldier, and 'e's under full stoppages +for new kit. It's covered with scales, sir.” + +“Scales? What scales?” + +“Fish-scales, sir. 'E's always pokin' in the mud by the river an' +a-cleanin' them muchly-fish with 'is thumbs.” Revere was still absorbed +in the Company papers, and the Sergeant, who was sternly fond of Bobby, +continued,--“'E generally goes down there when 'e's got 'is skinful, +beggin' your pardon, sir, an' they do say that the more lush--inebriated +'e is, the more fish 'e catches. They call 'im the Looney Fishmonger in +the Comp'ny, sir.” + +Revere signed the last paper and the Sergeant retreated. + +“It's a filthy amusement,” sighed Bobby to himself. Then aloud to +Revere: “Are you really worried about Dormer?” + +“A little. You see he's never mad enough to send to hospital, or drunk +enough to run in, but at any minute he may flare up, brooding and +sulking as he does. He resents any interest being shown in him, and the +only time I took him out shooting he all but shot me by accident.” + +“I fish,” said Bobby, with a wry face. “I hire a country-boat and go +down river from Thursday to Sunday, and the amiable Dormer goes with +me--if you can spare us both.” + +“You blazing young fool!” said Revere, but his heart was full of much +more pleasant words. + +Bobby, the Captain of a dhoni, with Private Dormer for mate, dropped +down the river on Thursday morning--the Private at the bow, the +Subaltern at the helm. The Private glared uneasily at the Subaltern, who +respected the reserve of the Private. + +After six hours, Dormer paced to the stern, saluted, and said--“Beg +y' pardon, sir, but was you ever on the Durh'm Canal?” + +“No,” said Bobby Wick. “Come and have some tiffin.” + +They ate in silence. As the evening fell, Private Dormer broke forth, +speaking to himself-- + +“Hi was on the Durh'm Canal, jes' such a night, come next week +twelvemonth, a-trailin' of my toes in the water.” He smoked and said no +more till bedtime. + +The witchery of the dawn turned the gray river-reaches to purple, gold, +and opal; and it was as though the lumbering dhoni crept across the +splendours of a new heaven. + +Private Dormer popped his head out of his blanket and gazed at the glory +below and around. + +“Well--damn--my eyes!” said Private Dormer in an awed whisper. “This +'ere is like a bloomin' gallantry-show!” For the rest of the day he was +dumb, but achieved an ensanguined filthiness through the cleaning of big +fish. + +The boat returned on Saturday evening. Dormer had been struggling with +speech since noon. As the lines and luggage were being disembarked, he +found tongue. + +“Beg y' pardon, sir,” he said, “but would you--would you min' shakin' +'ands with me, sir?” + +“Of course not,” said Bobby, and he shook accordingly. Dormer returned +to barracks and Bobby to mess. + +“He wanted a little quiet and some fishing, I think,” said Bobby. “My +aunt, but he's a filthy sort of animal! Have you ever seen him clean +'them muchly-fish with 'is thumbs?” + +“Anyhow,” said Revere three weeks later, “he's doing his best to keep +his things clean.” + +When the spring died, Bobby joined in the general scramble for Hill +leave, and to his surprise and delight secured three months. + +“As good a boy as I want,” said Revere, the admiring skipper. + +“The best of the batch,” said the Adjutant to the Colonel. “Keep back +that young skrimshanker Porkiss, sir, and let Revere make him sit up.” + +So Bobby departed joyously to Simla Pahar with a tin box of gorgeous +raiment. + +“Son of Wick--old Wick of Chota-Buldana? Ask him to dinner, dear,” said +the aged men. + +“What a nice boy!” said the matrons and the maids. + +“First-class place, Simla. Oh, ri----ipping!” said Bobby Wick, and +ordered new white cord breeches on the strength of it. + +“We're in a bad way,” wrote Revere to Bobby at the end of two months. +“Since you left, the Regiment has taken to fever and is fairly rotten +with it--two hundred in hospital, about a hundred in cells--drinking to +keep off fever--and the Companies on parade fifteen file strong at the +outside. There's rather more sickness in the out-villages than I care +for, but then I'm so blistered with prickly-heat that I'm ready to hang +myself. What's the yarn about your mashing a Miss Haverley up there? Not +serious, I hope? You're over-young to hang millstones round your neck, +and the Colonel will turf you out of that in double-quick time if you +attempt it.” + +It was not the Colonel that brought Bobby out of Simla, but a much more +to be respected Commandant. The sickness in the out-villages spread, +the Bazar was put out of bounds, and then came the news that the +Tail Twisters must go into camp. The message flashed to the Hill +stations.--“Cholera--Leave stopped--Officers recalled.” Alas, for the +white gloves in the neatly soldered boxes, the rides and the dances and +picnics that were to be, the loves half spoken, and the debts unpaid! +Without demur and without question, fast as tonga could fly or pony +gallop, back to their Regiments and their Batteries, as though they were +hastening to their weddings, fled the subalterns. + +Bobby received his orders on returning from a dance at Viceregal Lodge, +where he had but only the Haverley girl knows what Bobby had said or how +many waltzes he had claimed for the next ball. Six in the morning saw +Bobby at the Tonga Office in the drenching rain, the whirl of the last +waltz still in his ears, and an intoxication due neither to wine nor +waltzing in his brain. + +“Good man!” shouted Deighton of the Horse Battery through the mists. +“Whar you raise dat tonga? I'm coming with you. Ow! But I've a head and +half. I didn't sit out all night. They say the Battery's awful bad,” and +he hummed dolorously-- + + “Leave the what at the what's-its-name, + Leave the flock without shelter, + Leave the corpse uninterred, + Leave the bride at the altar + + +“My faith! It'll be more bally corpse than bride, though, this journey. +Jump in, Bobby. Get on, Coachwan!” + +On the Umballa platform waited a detachment of officers discussing the +latest news from the stricken cantonment, and it was here that Bobby +learned the real condition of the Tail Twisters. + +“They went into camp,” said an elderly Major recalled from the +whist-tables at Mussoorie to a sickly Native Regiment, “they went into +camp with two hundred and ten sick in carts. Two hundred and ten fever +cases only, and the balance looking like so many ghosts with sore eyes. +A Madras Regiment could have walked through 'em.” + +“But they were as fit as be-damned when I left them!” said Bobby. + +“Then you'd better make them as fit as be-damned when you rejoin,” said +the Major brutally. + +Bobby pressed his forehead against the rain-splashed window-pane as the +train lumbered across the sodden Doab, and prayed for the health of the +Tyneside Tail Twisters. Naini Tal had sent down her contingent with +all speed; the lathering ponies of the Dalhousie Road staggered into +Pathankot, taxed to the full stretch of their strength; while from +cloudy Darjiling the Calcutta Mail whirled up the last straggler of the +little army that was to fight a fight, in which was neither medal nor +honour for the winning, against an enemy none other than “the sickness +that destroyeth in the noonday.” + +And as each man reported himself, he said: “This is a bad business,” + and went about his own forthwith, for every Regiment and Battery in the +cantonment was under canvas, the sickness bearing them company. + +Bobby fought his way through the rain to the Tail Twisters' temporary +mess, and Revere could have fallen on the boy's neck for the joy of +seeing that ugly, wholesome phiz once more. + +“Keep 'em amused and interested,” said Revere. “They went on the drink, +poor fools, after the first two cases, and there was no improvement. Oh, +it's good to have you back, Bobby! Porkiss is a--never mind.” + +Deighton came over from the Artillery camp to attend a dreary mess +dinner, and contributed to the general gloom by nearly weeping over the +condition of his beloved Battery. Porkiss so far forgot himself as to +insinuate that the presence of the officers could do no earthly good, +and that the best thing would be to send the entire Regiment into +hospital and “let the doctors look after them.” Porkiss was demoralised +with fear, nor was his peace of mind restored when Revere said coldly: +“Oh! The sooner you go out the better, if that's your way of thinking. +Any public school could send us fifty good men in your place, but it +takes time, time, Porkiss, and money, and a certain amount of trouble, +to make a Regiment. S'pose you're the person we go into camp for, eh?” + +Whereupon Porkiss was overtaken with a great and chilly fear which a +drenching in the rain did not allay, and, two days later, quitted this +world for another where, men do fondly hope, allowances are made for the +weaknesses of the flesh. The Regimental Sergeant-Major looked wearily +across the Sergeants' Mess tent when the news was announced. + +“There goes the worst of them,” he said. “It'll take the best, and then, +please God, it'll stop.” The Sergeants were silent till one said: “It +couldn't be him!” and all knew of whom Travis was thinking. + +Bobby Wick stormed through the tents of his Company, rallying, +rebuking, mildly, as is consistent with the Regulations, chaffing the +fainthearted; haling the sound into the watery sunlight when there was +a break in the weather, and bidding them be of good cheer, for their +trouble was nearly at an end; scuttling on his dun pony round the +outskirts of the camp and heading back men who, with the innate +perversity of British soldiers, were always wandering into infected +villages, or drinking deeply from rain-flooded marshes; comforting the +panic-stricken with rude speech, and more than once tending the dying +who had no friends--the men without “townies”; organizing, with banjos +and burnt cork, Sing-songs which should allow the talent of the +Regiment full play; and generally, as he explained, “playing the giddy +garden-goat all round.” + +“You're worth half a dozen of us, Bobby,” said Revere in a moment of +enthusiasm. “How the devil do you keep it up?” + +Bobby made no answer, but had Revere looked into the breast-pocket of +his coat he might have seen there a sheaf of badly-written letters which +perhaps accounted for the power that possessed the boy. A letter came +to Bobby every other day. The spelling was not above reproach, but the +sentiments must have been most satisfactory, for on receipt Bobby's eyes +softened marvellously, and he was wont to fall into a tender abstraction +for a while ere, shaking his cropped head, he charged into his work. + +By what power he drew after him the hearts of the roughest, and the +Tail Twisters counted in their ranks some rough diamonds indeed, was +a mystery to both skipper and C. O., who learned from the regimental +chaplain that Bobby was considerably more in request in the hospital +tents than the Reverend John Emery. + +“The men seem fond of you. Are you in the hospitals much?” said the +Colonel, who did his daily round and ordered the men to get well with a +hardness that did not cover his bitter grief. + +“A little, sir,” said Bobby. + +“Shouldn't go there too often if I were you. They say it's not +contagious, but there's no use in running unnecessary risks. We can't +afford to have you down, y' know.” + +Six days later, it was with the utmost difficulty that the post-runner +plashed his way out to the camp with the mail-bags, for the rain was +falling in torrents. Bobby received a letter, bore it off to his tent, +and, the programme for the next week's Sing-song being satisfactorily +disposed of, sat down to answer it. For an hour the unhandy pen toiled +over the paper, and where sentiment rose to more than normal tide-level, +Bobby Wick stuck out his tongue and breathed heavily. He was not used to +letter-writing. + +“Beg y' pardon, sir,” said a voice at the tent door; “but Dormer's +'orrid bad, sir, an' they've taken him orf, sir.” + +“Damn Private Dormer and you too!” said Bobby Wick, running the blotter +over the half-finished letter. “Tell him I'll come in the morning.” + +“'E's awful bad, sir,” said the voice hesitatingly. There was an +undecided squelching of heavy boots. + +“Well?” said Bobby impatiently. + +“Excusin' 'imself before 'and for takin' the liberty, 'e says it would +be a comfort for to assist 'im, sir, if--tattoo lao! Get my pony! Here, +come in out of the rain till I'mready. What blasted nuisances you are! +That's brandy. Drink some; you want it. Hang on to my stirrup and tell +me if I go too fast.” + +Strengthened by a four-finger “nip” which he swallowed without a wink, +the Hospital Orderly kept up with the slipping, mud-stained, and very +disgusted pony as it shambled to the hospital tent. + +Private Dormer was certainly “'orrid bad.” He had all but reached the +stage of collapse, and was not pleasant to look upon. + +“What's this, Dormer?” said Bobby, bending over the man. “You're not +going out this time. You've got to come fishing with me once or twice +more yet.” + +The blue lips parted and in the ghost of a whisper said,--“Beg y' +pardon, sir, disturbin' of you now, but would you min' 'oldin' my 'and, +sir'?” + +Bobby sat on the side of the bed, and the icy-cold hand closed on his +own like a vice, forcing a lady's ring which was on the little finger +deep into the flesh. Bobby set his lips and waited, the water dripping +from the hem of his trousers. An hour passed, and the grasp of the hand +did not relax, nor did the expression of the drawn face change. Bobby +with infinite craft lit himself a cheroot with the left hand (his right +arm was numbed to the elbow), and resigned himself to a night of pain. + +Dawn showed a very white-faced Subaltern sitting on the side of a +sick man's cot, and a Doctor in the doorway using language unfit for +publication. + +“Have you been here all night, you young ass?” said the Doctor. + +“There or thereabouts,” said Bobby ruefully. “He's frozen on to me.” + +Dormer's mouth shut with a click. He turned his head and sighed. The +clinging hand opened, and Bobby's arm fell useless at his side. + +“He'll do,” said the Doctor quietly. “It must have been a toss-up all +through the night. 'Think you're to be congratulated on this case.” + +“Oh, bosh!” said Bobby. “I thought the man had gone out long +ago--only--only I didn't care to take my hand away. Rub my arm down, +there's a good chap. What a grip the brute has! I'm chilled to the +marrow!” He passed out of the tent shivering. + +Private Dormer was allowed to celebrate his repulse of Death by strong +waters. Four days later, he sat on the side of his cot and said to the +patients mildly: “I'd 'a' liken to 'a' spoken to 'im--so I should.” + +But at that time Bobby was reading yet another letter,--he had the most +persistent correspondent of any man in camp,--and was even then about to +write that the sickness had abated, and in another week at the outside +would be gone. He did not intend to say that the chill of a sick man's +hand seemed to have struck into the heart whose capacities for affection +he dwelt on at such length. He did intend to enclose the illustrated +programme of the forthcoming Sing-song, whereof he was not a little +proud. He also intended to write on many other matters which do not +concern us, and doubtless would have done so but for the slight feverish +headache which made him dull and unresponsive at mess. + +“You are overdoing it, Bobby,” said his skipper. “'Might give the rest +of us credit of doing a little work. You go on as if you were the whole +Mess rolled into one. Take it easy.” + +“I will,” said Bobby. “I'm feeling done up, somehow.” Revere looked at +him anxiously and said nothing. + +There was a flickering of lanterns about the camp that night, and a +rumour that brought men out of their cots to the tent doors, a paddling +of the naked feet of doolie-bearers, and the rush of a galloping horse. + +“Wot's up?” asked twenty tents; and through twenty tents ran the +answer--“Wick, 'e's down.” + +They brought the news to Revere and he groaned. “Any one but Bobby and I +shouldn't have cared! The Sergeant-Major was right.” + +“Not going out this journey,” gasped Bobby, as he was lifted from +the doolie. “Not going out this journey.” Then with an air of supreme +conviction--“I can't, you see.” + +“Not if I can do anything!” said the Surgeon-Major, who had hastened +over from the mess where he had been dining. + +He and the Regimental Surgeon fought together with Death for the life +of Bobby Wick. Their work was interrupted by a hairy apparition in a +blue-gray dressing-gown, who stared in horror at the bed and cried--“Oh, +my Gawd! It can't be 'im!” until an indignant Hospital Orderly whisked +him away. + +If care of man and desire to live could have done aught, Bobby would +have been saved. As it was, he made a fight of three days, and the +Surgeon-Major's brow uncreased. “We'll save him yet,” he said; and the +Surgeon, who, though he ranked with the Captain, had a very youthful +heart, went out upon the word and pranced joyously in the mud. + +“Not going out this journey,” whispered Bobby Wick gallantly, at the end +of the third day. + +“Bravo!” said the Surgeon-Major. “That's the way to look at it, Bobby.” + +As evening fell a gray shade gathered round Bobby's mouth, and he turned +his face to the tent-wall wearily. The Surgeon-Major frowned. + +“I'm awfully tired,” said Bobby, very faintly. “What's the use of +bothering me with medicine? I--don't--want--it. Let me alone.” + +The desire for life had departed, and Bobby was content to drift away on +the easy tide of Death. + +“It's no good,” said the Surgeon-Major. “He doesn't want to live. He's +meeting it, poor child.” And he blew his nose. + +Half a mile away, the regimental band was playing the overture to the +Sing-song, for the men had been told that Bobby was out of danger. The +clash of the brass and the wail of the horns reached Bobby's ears. + + Is there a single joy or pain, + That I should never kno-ow? + You do not love me, 'tis in vain, + Bid me good-bye and go! + +An expression of hopeless irritation crossed the boy's face, and he +tried to shake his head. + +The Surgeon-Major bent down--“What is it, Bobby?”---“Not that waltz,” + muttered Bobby. “That's our own--our very ownest own... Mummy dear.” + +With this he sank into the stupor that gave place to death early next +morning. + +Revere, his eyes red at the rims and his nose very white, went into +Bobby's tent to write a letter to Papa Wick which should bow the white +head of the ex-Commissioner of Chota-Buldana in the keenest sorrow of +his life. Bobby's little store of papers lay in confusion on the table, +and among them a half-finished letter. The last sentence ran: “So you +see, darling, there is really no fear, because as long as I know you +care for me and I care for you, nothing can touch me.” + +Revere stayed in the tent for an hour. When he came out, his eyes were +redder than ever. + +Private Conklin sat on a turned-down bucket, and listened to a not +unfamiliar tune. Private Conklin was a convalescent and should have been +tenderly treated. + +“Ho!” said Private Conklin. “There's another bloomin' orf'cer da-ed.” + +The bucket shot from under him, and his eyes filled with a smithyful of +sparks. A tall man in a blue-gray bedgown was regarding him with deep +disfavour. + +“You ought to take shame for yourself, Conky! Orf'cer?--bloomin' +orf'cer? I'll learn you to misname the likes of 'im. Hangel! Bloomin' +Hangel! That's wot 'e is!” + +And the Hospital Orderly was so satisfied with the justice of the +punishment that he did not even order Private Dormer back to his cot. + + + + +IN THE MATTER OF A PRIVATE + + Hurrah! hurrah! a soldier's life for me! + Shout, boys, shout! for it makes you jolly and free. + + The Ramrod Corps. + +People who have seen say that one of the quaintest spectacles of human +frailty is an outbreak of hysterics in a girls' school. It starts +without warning, generally on a hot afternoon, among the elder pupils. A +girl giggles till the giggle gets beyond control. Then she throws up +her head and cries, “Honk, honk, honk,” like a wild goose, and tears mix +with the laughter. If the mistress be wise, she will rap out something +severe at this point to check matters. If she be tender-hearted, and +send for a drink of water, the chances are largely in favour of another +girl laughing at the afflicted one and herself collapsing. Thus the +trouble spreads, and may end in half of what answers to the Lower Sixth +of a boys' school rocking and whooping together. Given a week of warm +weather, two stately promenades per diem, a heavy mutton and rice meal +in the middle of the day, a certain amount of nagging from the teachers, +and a few other things, some amazing effects develop. At least, this is +what folk say who have had experience. + +Now, the Mother Superior of a Convent and the Colonel of a British +Infantry Regiment would be justly shocked at any comparison being made +between their respective charges. But it is a fact that, under certain +circumstances, Thomas in bulk can be worked up into ditthering, rippling +hysteria. He does not weep, but he shows his trouble unmistakably, and +the consequences get into the newspapers, and all the good people +who hardly know a Martini from a Snider say: “Take away the brute's +ammunition!” + +Thomas isn't a brute, and his business, which is to look after the +virtuous people, demands that he shall have his ammunition to his hand. +He doesn't wear silk stockings, and he really ought to be supplied with +a new Adjective to help him to express his opinions: but, for all that, +he is a great man. If you call him “the heroic defender of the national +honour” one day, and “a brutal and licentious soldiery” the next, you +naturally bewilder him, and he looks upon you with suspicion. There is +nobody to speak for Thomas except people who have theories to work off +on him, and nobody understands Thomas except Thomas, and he does not +always know what is the matter with himself. + +That is the prologue. This is the story:-- + +Corporal Slane was engaged to be married to Miss Jhansi M'Kenna, +whose history is well known in the regiment and elsewhere. He had his +Colonel's permission, and, being popular with the men, every arrangement +had been made to give the wedding what Private Ortheris called “eeklar.” + It fell in the heart of the hot weather, and, after the wedding, +Slane was going up to the Hills with the bride. None the less, Slane's +grievance was that the affair would be only a hired-carriage wedding, +and he felt that the “eeklar” of that was meagre. Miss M'Kenna did +not care so much. The Sergeant's wife was helping her to make her +wedding-dress, and she was very busy. Slane was, just then, the only +moderately contented man in barracks. All the rest were more or less +miserable. + +And they had so much to make them happy, too. All their work was over +at eight in the morning, and for the rest of the day they could lie on +their backs and smoke Canteen-plug and swear at the punkah-coolies. They +enjoyed a fine, full flesh meal in the middle of the day, and then threw +themselves down on their cots and sweated and slept till it was cool +enough to go out with their “towny,” whose vocabulary contained less +than six hundred words, and the Adjective, and whose views on every +conceivable question they had heard many times before. + +There was the Canteen, of course, and there was the Temperance Room with +the second-hand papers in it; but a man of any profession cannot read +for eight hours a day in a temperature of 96 deg. or 98 deg. in the shade, +running up sometimes to 103 deg. at midnight. Very few men, even though they +get a pannikin of flat, stale, muddy beer and hide it under their cots, +can continue drinking for six hours a day. One man tried, but he died, +and nearly the whole regiment went to his funeral because it gave +them something to do. It was too early for the excitement of fever or +cholera. The men could only wait and wait and wait, and watch the shadow +of the barrack creeping across the blinding white dust. That was a gay +life. + +They lounged about cantonments--it was too hot for any sort of game, +and almost too hot for vice--and fuddled themselves in the evening, +and filled themselves to distension with the healthy nitrogenous food +provided for them, and the more they stoked the less exercise they took +and more explosive they grew. Then tempers began to wear away, and men +fell a-brooding over insults real or imaginary, for they had nothing +else to think of. The tone of the repartees changed, and instead +of saying light-heartedly: “I'll knock your silly face in,” men grew +laboriously polite and hinted that the cantonments were not big enough +for themselves and their enemy, and that there would be more space for +one of the two in another Place. + +It may have been the Devil who arranged the thing, but the fact of the +case is that Losson had for a long time been worrying Simmons in an +aimless way. It gave him occupation. The two had their cots side by +side, and would sometimes spend a long afternoon swearing at each other; +but Simmons was afraid of Losson and dared not challenge him to a fight. +He thought over the words in the hot still nights, and half the hate he +felt towards Losson he vented on the wretched punkah-coolie. + +Losson bought a parrot in the bazar, and put it into a little cage, +and lowered the cage into the cool darkness of a well, and sat on the +well-curb, shouting bad language down to the parrot. He taught it to +say: “Simmons, ye so-oor,” which means swine, and several other things +entirely unfit for publication. He was a big gross man, and he shook +like a jelly when the parrot had the sentence correctly. Simmons, +however, shook with rage, for all the room were laughing at him--the +parrot was such a disreputable puff of green feathers and it looked so +human when it chattered. Losson used to sit, swinging his fat legs, on +the side of the cot, and ask the parrot what it thought of Simmons. The +parrot would answer: “Simmons, ye so-oor.” “Good boy,” Losson used to +say, scratching the parrot's head; “ye 'ear that, Sim?” And Simmons +used to turn over on his stomach and make answer: “I 'ear. Take 'eed you +don't 'ear something one of these days.” + +In the restless nights, after he had been asleep all day, fits of blind +rage came upon Simmons and held him till he trembled all over, while he +thought in how many different ways he would slay Losson. Sometimes +he would picture himself trampling the life out of the man with heavy +ammunition-boots, and at others smashing in his face with the butt, and +at others jumping on his shoulders and dragging the head back till the +neckbone cracked. Then his mouth would feel hot and fevered, and he +would reach out for another sup of the beer in the pannikin. + +But the fancy that came to him most frequently and stayed with him +longest was one connected with the great roll of fat under Losson's +right ear. He noticed it first on a moonlight night, and thereafter +it was always before his eyes. It was a fascinating roll of fat. A man +could get his hand upon it and tear away one side of the neck; or he +could place the muzzle of a rifle on it and blow away all the head in +a flash. Losson had no right to be sleek and contented and well-to-do, +when he, Simmons, was the butt of the room. Some day, perhaps, he would +show those who laughed at the “Simmons, ye so-oor” joke, that he was as +good as the rest, and held a man's life in the crook of his forefinger. +When Losson snored, Simmons hated him more bitterly than ever. Why +should Losson be able to sleep when Simmons had to stay awake hour after +hour, tossing and turning on the tapes, with the dull liver pain gnawing +into his right side and his head throbbing and aching after Canteen? +He thought over this for many, many nights, and the world became +unprofitable to him. He even blunted his naturally fine appetite with +beer and tobacco; and all the while the parrot talked at and made a mock +of him. + +The heat continued and the tempers wore away more quickly than before. +A Sergeant's wife died of heat-apoplexy in the night, and the rumour ran +abroad that it was cholera. Men rejoiced openly, hoping that it would +spread and send them into camp. But that was a false alarm. + +It was late on a Tuesday evening, and the men were waiting in the deep +double verandahs for “Last Post,” when Simmons went to the box at the +foot of his bed, took out his pipe, and slammed the lid down with a +bang that echoed through the deserted barrack like the crack of a rifle. +Ordinarily speaking, the men would have taken no notice; but their +nerves were fretted to fiddle-strings. They jumped up, and three or four +clattered into the barrack-room only to find Simmons kneeling by his +box. + +“Ow! It's you, is it?” they said, and laughed foolishly. “We thought +'twas--” + +Simmons rose slowly. If the accident had so shaken his fellows, what +would not the reality do? + +“You thought it was--did you? And what makes you think?” he said, +lashing himself into madness as he went on; “to Hell with your thinking, +ye dirty spies!” + +“Simmons, ye so-oor,” chuckled the parrot in the verandah sleepily, +recognising a well-known voice. Now that was absolutely all. + +The tension snapped. Simmons fell back on the arm-rack +deliberately,--the men were at the far end of the room,--and took out +his rifle and packet of ammunition. “Don't go playing the goat, Sim!” + said Losson. “Put it down,” but there was a quaver in his voice. Another +man stooped, slipped his boot, and hurled it at Simmons's head. The +prompt answer was a shot which, fired at random, found its billet in +Losson's throat. Losson fell forward without a word, and the others +scattered. + +“You thought it was!” yelled Simmons. “You're drivin' me to it! I tell +you you're drivin' me to it! Get up, Losson, an' don't lie shammin' +there--you an' your blasted parrit that druv me to it!” + +But there was an unaffected reality about Losson's pose that showed +Simmons what he had done. The men were still clamouring in the verandah. +Simmons appropriated two more packets of ammunition and ran into the +moonlight, muttering: “I'll make a night of it. Thirty roun's, an' the +last for myself. Take you that, you dogs!” + +He dropped on one knee and fired into the brown of the men on the +verandah, but the bullet flew high, and landed in the brickwork with a +vicious phwit that made some of the younger ones turn pale. It is, as +musketry theorists observe, one thing to fire and another to be fired +at. + +Then the instinct of the chase flared up. The news spread from barrack +to barrack, and the men doubled out intent on the capture of Simmons, +the wild beast, who was heading for the Cavalry parade-ground, stopping +now and again to send back a shot and a curse in the direction of his +pursuers. + +“I'll learn you to spy on me!” he shouted; “I'll learn you to give me +dorg's names! Come on, the 'ole lot o' you! Colonel John Anthony Deever, +C. B.!”--he turned towards the Infantry Mess and shook his rifle--“you +think yourself the devil of a man--but I tell you that if you put your +ugly old carcass outside o' that door, I'll make you the poorest-lookin' +man in the army. Come out, Colonel John Anthony Deever, C. B.! Come +Out and see me practiss on the rainge. I'm the crack shot of the 'ole +bloomin' battalion.” In proof of which statement Simmons fired at the +lighted windows of the mess-house. + +“Private Simmons, E Comp'ny, on the Cavalry p'rade-ground, Sir, with +thirty rounds,” said a Sergeant breathlessly to the Colonel. “Shootin' +right and lef', Sir. Shot Private Losson. What's to be done, Sir?” + +Colonel John Anthony Deever, C. B., sallied out, only to be saluted by a +spurt of dust at his feet. + +“Pull up!” said the Second in Command; “I don't want my step in that +way, Colonel. He's as dangerous as a mad dog.” + +“Shoot him like one, then,” said the Colonel bitterly, “if he won't take +his chance. My regiment, too! If it had been the Towheads I could have +understood.” + +Private Simmons had occupied a strong position near a well on the edge +of the parade-ground, and was defying the regiment to come on. The +regiment was not anxious to comply, for there is small honour in being +shot by a fellow-private. Only Corporal Slane, rifle in hand, threw +himself down on the ground, and wormed his way towards the well. + +“Don't shoot,” said he to the men round him; “like as not you'll 'it me. +I'll catch the beggar livin'.” + +Simmons ceased shouting for a while, and th noise of trap-wheels could +be heard across the plain. Major Oldyne, Commanding the Horse Battery, +was coming back from a dinner in the Civil Lines; was driving after his +usual custom--that is to say, as fast as the horse could go. + +“A orf'cer! A blooming spangled orf'cer!” shrieked Simmons; “I'll make a +scarecrow of that orf'cer!” The trap stopped. + +“What's this?” demanded the Major of Gunners. “You there, drop your +rifle.” + +“Why, it's Jerry Blazes! I ain't got no quarrel with you, Jerry Blazes. +Pass, frien', an' all's well!” + +But Jerry Blazes had not the faintest intention of passing a dangerous +murderer. He was, as his adoring Battery swore long and fervently, +without knowledge of fear, and they were surely the best judges, for +Jerry Blazes, it was notorious, had done his possible to kill a man each +time the Battery went out. + +He walked towards Simmons, with the intention of rushing him and +knocking him down. + +“Don't make me do it, Sir,” said Simmons; “I ain't got nothing ag'in' +you. Ah! you would?”--the Major broke into a run--“Take that, then!” + +The Major dropped with a bullet through his shoulder, and Simmons stood +over him. He had lost the satisfaction of killing Losson in the desired +way: but here was a helpless body to his hand. Should he slip in another +cartridge, and blow off the head, or with the butt smash in the white +face? He stopped to consider, and a cry went up from the far side of +the parade-ground: “He's killed Jerry Blazes!” But in the shelter of the +well-pillars Simmons was safe, except when he stepped out to fire. “I'll +blow yer 'andsome 'ead off, Jerry Blazes,” said Simmons reflectively. +“Six and three is nine an' one is ten, an' that leaves me another +nineteen, an' one for myself” He tugged at the string of the second +packet of ammunition. Corporal Slane crawled out of the shadow of a bank +into the moonlight. + +“I see you!” said Simmons. “Come a bit furder on an' I'll do for you.” + +“I'm comin',” said Corporal Slane briefly; “you've done a bad day's +work, Sim. Come out 'ere an' come back with me.” + +“Come to,” laughed Simmons, sending a cartridge home with his thumb. +“Not before I've settled you an' Jerry Blazes.” + +The Corporal was lying at full length in the dust of the parade-ground, +a rifle under him. Some of the less cautious men in the distance +shouted: “Shoot 'im! Shoot 'im, Slane!” + +“You move 'and or foot, Slane,” said Simmons, “an' I'll kick Jerry +Blazes' 'ead in, and shoot you after.” + +“I ain't movin',” said the Corporal, raising his head; “you daren't 'it +a man on 'is legs. Let go o' Jerry Blazes an' come out o' that with your +fistes. Come an' 'it me. You daren't, you bloomin' dog-shooter!” + +“I dare.” + +“You lie, you man-sticker. You sneakin', Sheeny butcher, you lie. See +there!” Slane kicked the rifle away, and stood up in the peril of his +life. “Come on, now!” + +The temptation was more than Simmons could resist, for the Corporal in +his white clothes offered a perfect mark. + +“Don't misname me,” shouted Simmons, firing as he spoke. The shot +missed, and the shooter, blind with rage, threw his rifle down and +rushed at Slane from the protection of the well. Within striking +distance, he kicked savagely at Slane's stomach, but the weedy Corporal +knew something of Simmons's weakness, and knew, too, the deadly guard +for that kick. Bowing forward and drawing up his right leg till the heel +of the right foot was set some three inches above the inside of the left +knee-cap, he met the blow standing on one leg--exactly as Gonds stand +when they meditate--and ready for the fall that would follow. There +was an oath, the Corporal fell over to his own left as shinbone met +shinbone, and the Private collapsed, his right leg broken an inch above +the ankle. + +“Pity you don't know that guard, Sim,” said Slane, spitting out the dust +as he rose. Then raising his voice--“Come an' take him on. I've bruk 'is +leg.” This was not strictly true, for the Private had accomplished his +own downfall, since it is the special merit of that leg-guard that the +harder the kick the greater the kicker's discomfiture. + +Slane walked to Jerry Blazes and hung over him with ostentatious +anxiety, while Simmons, weeping with pain, was carried away. “'Ope you +ain't 'urt badly, Sir,” said Slane. The Major had fainted, and there was +an ugly, ragged hole through the top of his arm. Slane knelt down +and murmured: “S'elp me, I believe 'e's dead. Well, if that ain't my +blooming luck all over!” + +But the Major was destined to lead his Battery afield for many a long +day with unshaken nerve. He was removed, and nursed and petted into +convalescence, while the Battery discussed the wisdom of capturing +Simmons and blowing him from a gun. They idolised their Major, and his +reappearance on parade brought about a scene nowhere provided for in the +Army Regulations. + +Great, too, was the glory that fell to Slane's share. The Gunners would +have made him drunk thrice a day for at least a fortnight. Even the +Colonel of his own regiment complimented him upon his coolness, and the +local paper called him a hero. These things did not puff him up. When +the Major offered him money and thanks, the virtuous Corporal took the +one and put aside the other. But he had a request to make and prefaced +it with many a “Beg y' pardon, Sir.” Could the Major see his way to +letting the Slane-M'Kenna wedding be adorned by the presence of four +Battery horses to pull a hired barouche? The Major could, and so could +the Battery. Excessively so. It was a gorgeous wedding. + +“Wot did I do it for?” said Corporal Slane. “For the 'orses o' course. +Jhansi ain't a beauty to look at, but I wasn't goin' to 'ave a hired +turnout. Jerry Blazes? If I 'adn't 'a' wanted something, Sim might ha' +blowed Jerry Blazes' blooming 'ead into Hirish stew for aught I'd 'a' +cared.” + + +And they hanged Private Simmons--hanged him as high as Haman in hollow +square of the regiment; and the Colonel said it was Drink; and the +Chaplain was sure it was the Devil; and Simmons fancied it was both, +but he didn't know, and only hoped his fate would be a warning to +his companions; and half a dozen “intelligent publicists” wrote six +beautiful leading articles on “The Prevalence of Crime in the Army.” + +But not a soul thought of comparing the “bloody-minded Simmons” to the +squawking, gaping school-girl with which this story opens. + + + + +THE LOST LEGION + +When the Indian Mutiny broke out, and a little time before the siege of +Delhi, a regiment of Native Irregular Horse was stationed at Peshawur on +the frontier of India. That regiment caught what John Lawrence called +at the time “the prevalent mania,” and would have thrown in its lot with +the mutineers, had it been allowed to do so. The chance never came, for, +as the regiment swept off down south, it was headed off by a remnant +of an English corps into the hills of Afghanistan, and there the newly +conquered tribesmen turned against it as wolves turn against buck. It +was hunted for the sake of its arms and accoutrements from hill to hill, +from ravine to ravine, up and down the dried beds of rivers and round +the shoulders of bluffs, till it disappeared as water sinks in the +sand--this officerless rebel regiment. The only trace left of its +existence to-day is a nominal roll drawn up in neat round hand and +countersigned by an officer who called himself, “Adjutant, late +Irregular Cavalry.” The paper is yellow with years and dirt, but on the +back of it you can still read a pencil-note by John Lawrence, to this +effect: “See that the two native officers who remained loyal are not +deprived of their estates.--J. L.” Of six hundred and fifty sabres only +two stood strain, and John Lawrence in the midst of all the agony of the +first months of the Mutiny found time to think about their merits. + +That was more than thirty years ago, and the tribesmen across the Afghan +border who helped to annihilate the regiment are now old men. Sometimes +a graybeard speaks of his share in the massacre. “They came,” he will +say, “across the border, very proud, calling upon us to rise and kill +the English, and go down to the sack of Delhi. But we who had just been +conquered by the same English knew that they were over-bold, and that +the Government could account easily for those down-country dogs. This +Hindustani regiment, therefore, we treated with fair words, and kept +standing in one place till the redcoats came after them very hot and +angry. Then this regiment ran forward a little more into our hills to +avoid the wrath of the English, and we lay upon their flanks watching +from the sides of the hills till we were well assured that their path +was lost behind them. Then we came down, for we desired their clothes, +and their bridles, and their rifles, and their boots--more especially +their boots. That was a great killing--done slowly.” Here the old man +will rub his nose, and shake his long snaky locks, and lick his bearded +lips, and grin till the yellow tooth-stumps show. “Yea, we killed them +because we needed their gear, and we knew that their lives had been +forfeited to God on account of their sin--the sin of treachery to the +salt which they had eaten. They rode up and down the valleys, stumbling +and rocking in their saddles, and howling for mercy. We drove them +slowly like cattle till they were all assembled in one place, the flat +wide valley of Sheor Kit. Many had died from want of water, but there +still were many left, and they could not make any stand. We went among +them pulling them down with our hands two at a time, and our boys killed +them who were new to the sword. My share of the plunder was such and +such--so many guns, and so many saddles. The guns were good in those +days. Now we steal the Government rifles, and despise smooth barrels. +Yes, beyond doubt we wiped that regiment from off the face of the earth, +and even the memory of the deed is now dying. But men say--” + +At this point the tale would stop abruptly, and it was impossible to +find out what men said across the border. The Afghans were always a +secretive race, and vastly preferred doing something wicked to saying +anything at all. They would be quiet and well-behaved for months, till +one night, without word or warning, they would rush a police-post, cut +the throats of a constable or two, dash through a village, carry away +three or four women, and withdraw, in the red glare of burning thatch, +driving the cattle and goats before them to their own desolate hills. +The Indian Government would become almost tearful on these occasions. +First it would say, “Please be good and we'll forgive you.” The tribe +concerned in the latest depredation would collectively put its thumb to +its nose and answer rudely. Then the Government would say: “Hadn't you +better pay up a little money for those few corpses you left behind you +the other night?” Here the tribe would temporise, and lie and bully, +and some of the younger men, merely to show contempt of authority, would +raid another police-post and fire into some frontier mud-fort, and, if +lucky, kill a real English officer. Then the Government would say:-- + +“Observe; if you really persist in this line of conduct, you will be +hurt.” If the tribe knew exactly what was going on in India, it would +apologise or be rude, according as it learned whether the Government +was busy with other things or able to devote its full attention to +their performances. Some of the tribes knew to one corpse how far to go. +Others became excited, lost their heads, and told the Government to come +on. With sorrow and tears, and one eye on the British taxpayer at home, +who insisted on regarding these exercises as brutal wars of annexation, +the Government would prepare an expensive little field-brigade and some +guns, and send all up into the hills to chase the wicked tribe out of +the valleys, where the corn grew, into the hill-tops, where there was +nothing to eat. The tribe would turn out in full strength and enjoy the +campaign, for they knew that their women would never be touched, that +their wounded would be nursed, not mutilated, and that as soon as each +man's bag of corn was spent they could surrender and palaver with the +English General as though they had been a real enemy. Afterwards, years +afterwards, they would pay the blood-money, driblet by driblet, to the +Government, and tell their children how they had slain the redcoats by +thousands. The only drawback to this kind of picnic-war was the weakness +of the redcoats for solemnly blowing up with powder their fortified +towers and keeps. This the tribes always considered mean. + +Chief among the leaders of the smaller tribes--the little clans who +knew to a penny the expense of moving white troops against them--was +a priest-bandit-chief whom we will call the Gulla Kutta Mullah. His +enthusiasm for Border murder as an art was almost dignified. He would +cut down a mail-runner from pure wantonness, or bombard a mud-fort with +rifle-fire when he knew that our men needed to sleep. In his leisure +moments he would go on circuit among his neighbours, and try to +incite other tribes to devilry. Also, he kept a kind of hotel for +fellow-outlaws in his own village, which lay in a valley called Bersund. +Any respectable murderer on that section of the frontier was sure to lie +up at Bersund, for it was reckoned an exceedingly safe place. The sole +entry to it ran through a narrow gorge which could be converted into a +death-trap in five minutes. It was surrounded by high hills, reckoned +inaccessible to all save born mountaineers, and here the Gulla Kutta +Mullah lived in great state, the head of a colony of mud and stone huts, +and in each mud hut hung some portion of a red uniform and the plunder +of dead men. The Government particularly wished for his capture, and +once invited him formally to come out and be hanged on account of the +many murders in which he had taken a direct part. He replied:-- + +“I am only twenty miles, as the crow flies, from your border. Come and +fetch me.” + +“Some day we will come,” said the Government, “and hanged you will be.” + +The Gulla Kutta Mullah let the matter slip from his mind. He knew that +the patience of the Government was as long as a summer day; but he +did not realise that its arm was as long as a winter night. Months +afterwards, when there was peace on the border, and all India was quiet, +the Indian Government turned in its sleep and remembered the Gulla Kutta +Mullah at Bersund, with his thirteen outlaws. The movement against him +of one single regiment--which the telegrams would have translated as +war--would have been highly impolitic. This was a time for silence and +speed, and, above all, absence of bloodshed. + +You must know that all along the north-west frontier of India there is +spread a force of some thirty thousand foot and horse, whose duty it is +to quietly and unostentatiously shepherd the tribes in front of them. +They move up and down, and down and up, from one desolate little post to +another; they are ready to take the field at ten minutes' notice; they +are always half in and half out of a difficulty somewhere along the +monotonous line; their lives are as hard as their own muscles, and the +papers never say anything about them. It was from this force that the +Government picked its men. + +One night, at a station where the mounted Night Patrol fire as they +challenge, and the wheat rolls in great blue-green waves under our cold +northern moon, the officers were playing billiards in the mud-walled +club-house, when orders came to them that they were to go on parade at +once for a night-drill. They grumbled, and went to turn out their men--a +hundred English troops, let us say, two hundred Goorkhas, and about a +hundred cavalry of the finest native cavalry in the world. + +When they were on the parade-ground, it was explained to them in +whispers that they must set off at once across the hills to Bersund. The +English troops were to post themselves round the hills at the side of +the valley; the Goorkhas would command the gorge and the death-trap, and +the cavalry would fetch a long march round and get to the back of the +circle of hills, whence, if there were any difficulty, they could charge +down on the Mullah's men. But orders were very strict that there should +be no fighting and no noise. They were to return in the morning with +every round of ammunition intact, and the Mullah and the thirteen +outlaws bound in their midst. If they were successful, no one would know +or care anything about their work; but failure meant probably a small +border war, in which the Gulla Kutta Mullah would pose as a popular +leader against a big bullying power, instead of a common Border +murderer. + +Then there was silence, broken only by the clicking of the +compass-needles and snapping of watch-cases, as the heads of columns +compared bearings and made appointments for the rendezvous. Five minutes +later the parade-ground was empty; the green coats of the Goorkhas and +the overcoats of the English troops had faded into the darkness, and the +cavalry were cantering away in the face of a blinding drizzle. + +What the Goorkhas and the English did will be seen later on. The heavy +work lay with the horses, for they had to go far and pick their way +clear of habitations. Many of the troopers were natives of that part of +the world, ready and anxious to fight against their kin, and some of +the officers had made private and unofficial excursions into those hills +before. They crossed the border, found a dried river-bed, cantered up +that, walked through a stony gorge, risked crossing a low hill under +cover of the darkness, skirted another hill, leaving their hoof-marks +deep in some ploughed ground, felt their way along another water-course, +ran over the neck of a spur praying that no one would hear their horses +grunting, and so worked on in the rain and the darkness till they had +left Bersund and its crater of hills a little behind them, and to the +left, and it was time to swing round. The ascent commanding the back +of Bersund was steep, and they halted to draw breath in a broad level +valley below the height. That is to say, the men reined up, but the +horses, blown as they were, refused to halt. There was unchristian +language, the worse for being delivered in a whisper, and you heard the +saddles squeaking in the darkness as the horses plunged. + +The subaltern at the rear of one troop turned in his saddle and said +very softly:-- + +“Carter, what the blessed heavens are you doing at the rear? Bring your +men up, man.” + +There was no answer, till a trooper replied:-- + +“Carter Sahib is forward--not here. There is nothing behind us.” + +“There is,” said the subaltern. “The squadron's walking on its own +tail.” + +Then the Major in command moved down to the rear, swearing softly and +asking for the blood of Lieutenant Halley--the subaltern who had just +spoken. + +“Look after your rearguard,” said the Major. “Some of your infernal +thieves have got lost. They're at the head of the squadron, and you're a +several kinds of idiot.” + +“Shall I tell off my men, sir?” said the subaltern sulkily, for he was +feeling wet and cold. + +“Tell 'em off!” said the Major. “Whip 'em off, by Gad! You're +squandering them all over the place. There's a troop behind you now!” + +“So I was thinking,” said the subaltern calmly. “I have all my men here, +sir. Better speak to Carter.” + +“Carter Sahib sends salaam and wants to know why the regiment is +stopping,” said a trooper to Lieutenant Halley. + +“Where under heaven is Carter,” said the Major. + +“Forward with his troop,” was the answer. + +“Are we walking in a ring, then, or are we the centre of a blessed +brigade?” said the Major. + +By this time there was silence all along the column. The horses were +still; but, through the drive of the fine rain, men could hear the feet +of many horses moving over stony ground. + +“We're being stalked,” said Lieutenant Halley. + +“They've no horses here. Besides they'd have fired before this,” said +the Major. “It's--it's villagers' ponies.” + +“Then our horses would have neighed and spoilt the attack long ago. They +must have been near us for half an hour,” said the subaltern. + +“Queer that we can't smell the horses,” said the Major, damping his +finger and rubbing it on his nose as he sniffed up wind. + +“Well, it's a bad start,” said the subaltern, shaking the wet from his +overcoat. “What shall we do, sir?” + +“Get on,” said the Major. “We shall catch it to-night.” + +The column moved forward very gingerly for a few paces. Then there was +an oath, a shower of blue sparks as shod hooves crashed on small stones, +and a man rolled over with a jangle of accoutrements that would have +waked the dead. + +“Now we've gone and done it,” said Lieutenant Halley. “All the hillside +awake and all the hillside to climb in the face of musketry-fire! This +comes of trying to do night-hawk work.” + +The trembling trooper picked himself up and tried to explain that his +horse had fallen over one of the little cairns that are built of loose +stones on the spot where a man has been murdered. There was no need to +give reasons. The Major's big Australian charger blundered next, and the +column came to a halt in what seemed to be a very graveyard of little +cairns, all about two feet high. The manoeuvres of the squadron are not +reported. Men said that it felt like mounted quadrilles without training +and without the music; but at last the horses, breaking rank and +choosing their own way, walked clear of the cairns, till every man of +the squadron reformed and drew rein a few yards up the slope of the +hill. Then, according to Lieutenant Halley, there was another scene very +like the one which has been described. The Major and Carter insisted +that all the men had not joined rank, and that there were more of +them in the rear, clicking and blundering among the dead men's cairns. +Lieutenant Halley told off his own troopers again and resigned himself +to wait. Later on he said to me: + +“I didn't much know and I didn't much care what was going on. The row of +that trooper falling ought to have scared half the country, and I would +take my oath that we were being stalked by a full regiment in the rear, +and they were making row enough to rouse all Afghanistan. I sat tight, +but nothing happened.” + +The mysterious part of the night's work was the silence on the hillside. +Everybody knew that the Gulla Kutta Mullah had his outpost-huts on the +reverse side of the hill, and everybody expected, by the time that the +Major had sworn himself into quiet, that the watchmen there would open +fire. When nothing happened, they said that the gusts of the rain had +deadened the sound of the horses, and thanked Providence. At last the +Major satisfied himself (a) that he had left no one behind among the +cairns, and (b) that he was not being taken in the rear by a large and +powerful body of cavalry. The men's tempers were thoroughly spoiled, +the horses were lathered and unquiet, and one and all prayed for the +daylight. + +They set themselves to climb up the hill, each man leading his mount +carefully. Before they had covered the lower slopes or the breast-plates +had begun to tighten, a thunderstorm came up behind, rolling across the +low hills and drowning any noise less than that of cannon. The +first flash of the lightning showed the bare ribs of the ascent, the +hill-crest standing steely-blue against the black sky, the little +falling lines of the rain, and, a few yards to their left flank, an +Afghan watch-tower, two-storied, built of stone, and entered by a ladder +from the upper story. The ladder was up, and a man with a rifle was +leaning from the window. The darkness and the thunder rolled down in +an instant, and, when the lull followed, a voice from the watch-tower +cried, “Who goes there?” + +The cavalry were very quiet, but each man gripped his carbine and stood +beside his horse. Again the voice called, “Who goes there?” and in a +louder key, “O brothers, give the alarm!” Now, every man in the cavalry +would have died in his long boots sooner than have asked for quarter, +but it is a fact that the answer to the second call was a long wail of +“Marf karo! Marf karo!” which means, “Have mercy! Have mercy!” It came +from the climbing regiment. + +The cavalry stood dumbfoundered, till the big troopers had time to +whisper one to another: “Mir Khan, was that thy voice? Abdullah, didst +thou call?” Lieutenant Halley stood beside his charger and waited. +So long as no firing was going on he was content. Another flash of +lightning showed the horses with heaving flanks and nodding heads; the +men, white eye-balled, glaring beside them, and the stone watch-tower +to the left. This time there was no head at the window, and the rude +iron-clamped shutter that could turn a rifle-bullet was closed. + +“Go on, men,” said the Major. “Get up to the top at any rate!” The +squadron toiled forward, the horses wagging their tails and the men +pulling at the bridles, the stones rolling down the hillside and the +sparks flying. Lieutenant Halley declares that he never heard a squadron +make so much noise in his life. They scrambled up, he said, as though +each horse had eight legs and a spare horse to follow him. Even then +there was no sound from the watch-tower, and the men stopped exhausted +on the ridge that overlooked the pit of darkness in which the village +of Bersund lay. Girths were loosed, curb-chains shifted, and saddles +adjusted, and the men dropped down among the stones. Whatever might +happen now, they held the upper ground of any attack. + +The thunder ceased, and with it the rain, and the soft thick darkness of +a winter night before the dawn covered them all. Except for the sound of +falling water among the ravines below, everything was still. They heard +the shutter of the watch-tower below them thrown back with a clang, and +the voice of the watcher calling, “Oh, Hafiz Ullah!” + +The echoes took up the call, “La-la-la!” and an answer came from the +watch-tower hidden round the curve of the hill, “What is it, Shahbaz +Khan?” + +Shahbaz Khan replied in the high-pitched voice of the mountaineer: “Hast +thou seen?” + +The answer came back: “Yes. God deliver us from all evil spirits!” + +There was a pause, and then: “Hafiz Ullah, I am alone! Come to me.” + +“Shahbaz Khan, I am alone also; but I dare not leave my post!” + +“That is a lie; thou art afraid.” + +A longer pause followed, and then: “I am afraid. Be silent! They are +below us still. Pray to God and sleep.” + +The troopers listened and wondered, for they could not understand what +save earth and stone could lie below the watch-towers. + +Shahbaz Khan began to call again: “They are below us. I can see them! +For the pity of God come over to me, Hafiz Ullah! My father slew ten of +them. Come over!” + +Hafiz Ullah answered in a very loud voice, “Mine was guiltless. Hear, +ye Men of the Night, neither my father nor my blood had any part in that +sin. Bear thou thine own punishment, Shahbaz Khan.” + +“Oh, some one ought to stop those two chaps crowing away like cocks +there,” said the Lieutenant, shivering under his rock. + +He had hardly turned round to expose a new side of him to the rain +before a bearded, long-locked, evil-smelling Afghan rushed up the hill, +and tumbled into his arms. Halley sat upon him, and thrust as much of a +sword-hilt as could be spared down the man's gullet. “If you cry out, I +kill you,” he said cheerfully. + +The man was beyond any expression of terror. He lay and quaked, gasping. +When Halley took the sword-hilt from between his teeth, he was still +inarticulate, but clung to Halley's arm, feeling it from elbow to wrist. + +“The Rissala! The dead Rissala!” he gasped, “It is down there!” + +“No; the Rissala, the very much alive Rissala. It is up here,” said +Halley, unshipping his watering-bridle and fastening the man's hands. +“Why were you in the towers so foolish as to let us pass?” + +“The valley is full of the dead,” said the Afghan. “It is better to fall +into the hands of the English than the hands of the dead. They march to +and fro below there. I saw them in the lightning.” + +He recovered his composure after a little, and whispering, because +Halley's pistol was at his stomach, said: “What is this? There is no war +between us now, and the Mullah will kill me for not seeing you pass!” + +“Rest easy,” said Halley; “we are coming to kill the Mullah, if God +please. His teeth have grown too long. No harm will come to thee unless +the daylight shows thee as a face which is desired by the gallows for +crime done. But what of the dead regiment?” + +“I only kill within my own border,” said the man, immensely relieved. +“The dead regiment is below. The men must have passed through it on +their journey--four hundred dead on horses, stumbling among their own +graves, among the little heaps--dead men all, whom we slew.” + +“Whew!” said Halley. “That accounts for my cursing Carter and the Major +cursing me. Four hundred sabres, eh? No wonder we thought there were +a few extra men in the troop. Kurruk Shah,” he whispered to a grizzled +native officer that lay within a few feet of him, “hast thou heard +anything of a dead Rissala in these hills? + +“Assuredly,” said Kurruk Shah with a grim chuckle. “Otherwise, why did +I, who have served the Queen for seven-and-twenty years, and killed many +hill-dogs, shout aloud for quarter when the lightning revealed us to the +watch-towers? When I was a young man I saw the killing in the valley of +Sheor-Kit there at our feet, and I know the tale that grew up therefrom. +But how can the ghosts of unbelievers prevail against us who are of the +Faith? Strap that dog's hands a little tighter, Sahib. An Afghan is like +an eel.” + +“But a dead Rissala,” said Halley, jerking his captive's wrist. “That +is foolish talk, Kurruk Shah. The dead are dead. Hold still, Sag.” The +Afghan wriggled. + +“The dead are dead, and for that reason they walk at night. What need to +talk? We be men; we have our eyes and ears. Thou canst both see and hear +them down the hillside,” said Kurruk Shah composedly. + +Halley stared and listened long and intently. The valley was full of +stifled noises, as every valley must be at night; but whether he saw or +heard more than was natural Halley alone knows, and he does not choose +to speak on the subject. + +At last, and just before the dawn, a green rocket shot up from the far +side of the valley of Bersund, at the head of the gorge, to show that +the Goorkhas were in position. A red light from the infantry at left +and right answered it, and the cavalry burnt a white flare. Afghans in +winter are late sleepers, and it was not till full day that the Gulla +Kutta Mullah's men began to straggle from their huts, rubbing their +eyes. They saw men in green, and red, and brown uniforms, leaning on +their arms, neatly arranged all round the crater of the village of +Bersund, in a cordon that not even a wolf could have broken. They rubbed +their eyes the more when a pink-faced young man, who was not even in +the Army, but represented the Political Department, tripped down the +hillside with two orderlies, rapped at the door of the Gulla Kutta +Mullah's house, and told him quietly to step out and be tied up for safe +transport. That same young man passed on through the huts, tapping here +one cateran and there another lightly with his cane; and as each was +pointed out, so he was tied up, staring hopelessly at the crowned +heights around where the English soldiers looked down with incurious +eyes. Only the Mullah tried to carry it off with curses and high words, +till a soldier who was tying his hands said:-- + +“None o' your lip! Why didn't you come out when you was ordered, +instead o' keeping us awake all night? You're no better than my own +barrack-sweeper, you white-'eaded old polyanthus! Kim up!” + +Half an hour later the troops had gone away with the Mullah and his +thirteen friends. The dazed villagers were looking ruefully at a pile of +broken muskets and snapped swords, and wondering how in the world they +had come so to miscalculate the forbearance of the Indian Government. + +It was a very neat little affair, neatly carried out, and the men +concerned were unofficially thanked for their services. + +Yet it seems to me that much credit is also due to another regiment +whose name did not appear in brigade orders, and whose very existence is +in danger of being forgotten. + + + + +THE DRUMS OF THE FORE AND AFT + +In the Army List they still stand as “The Fore and Fit Princess +Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen-Anspach's Merther-Tydfilshire Own Royal Loyal +Light Infantry, Regimental District 329A,” but the Army through all its +barracks and canteens knows them now as the “Fore and Aft.” They may +in time do something that shall make their new title honourable, but at +present they are bitterly ashamed, and the man who calls them “Fore and +Aft” does so at the risk of the head which is on his shoulders. + +Two words breathed into the stables of a certain Cavalry Regiment will +bring the men out into the streets with belts and mops and bad language; +but a whisper of “Fore and Aft” will bring out this regiment with +rifles. + +Their one excuse is that they came again and did their best to finish +the job in style. But for a time all their world knows that they were +openly beaten, whipped, dumb-cowed, shaking and afraid. The men know it; +their officers know it; the Horse Guards know it, and when the next war +comes the enemy will know it also. There are two or three regiments of +the Line that have a black mark against their names which they will then +wipe out; and it will be excessively inconvenient for the troops upon +whom they do their wiping. + +The courage of the British soldier is officially supposed to be above +proof, and, as a general rule, it is so. The exceptions are decently +shovelled out of sight, only to be referred to in the freshest of +unguarded talk that occasionally swamps a Mess-table at midnight. +Then one hears strange and horrible stories of men not following their +officers, of orders being given by those who had no right to give them, +and of disgrace that, but for the standing luck of the British Army, +might have ended in brilliant disaster. These are unpleasant stories to +listen to, and the Messes tell them under their breath, sitting by +the big wood fires, and the young officer bows his head and thinks to +himself, please God, his men shall never behave unhandily. + +The British soldier is not altogether to be blamed for occasional +lapses; but this verdict he should not know. A moderately intelligent +General will waste six months in mastering the craft of the particular +war that he may be waging; a Colonel may utterly misunderstand the +capacity of his regiment for three months after it has taken the field, +and even a Company Commander may err and be deceived as to the temper +and temperament of his own handful: wherefore the soldier, and the +soldier of to-day more particularly, should not be blamed for falling +back. He should be shot or hanged afterwards--to encourage the others; +but he should not be vilified in newspapers, for that is want of tact +and waste of space. + +He has, let us say, been in the service of the Empress for, perhaps, +four years. He will leave in another two years. He has no inherited +morals, and four years are not sufficient to drive toughness into his +fibre, or to teach him how holy a thing is his Regiment. He wants to +drink, he wants to enjoy himself--in India he wants to save money--and +he does not in the least like getting hurt. He has received just +sufficient education to make him understand half the purport of the +orders he receives, and to speculate on the nature of clean, incised, +and shattering wounds. Thus, if he is told to deploy under fire +preparatory to an attack, he knows that he runs a very great risk of +being killed while he is deploying, and suspects that he is being thrown +away to gain ten minutes' time. He may either deploy with desperate +swiftness, or he may shuffle, or bunch, or break, according to the +discipline under which he has lain for four years. + +Armed with imperfect knowledge, cursed with the rudiments of an +imagination, hampered by the intense selfishness of the lower classes, +and unsupported by any regimental associations, this young man is +suddenly introduced to an enemy who in eastern lands is always ugly, +generally tall and hairy, and frequently noisy. If he looks to the right +and the left and sees old soldiers--men of twelve years' service, +who, he knows, know what they are about--taking a charge, rush, or +demonstration without embarrassment, he is consoled and applies his +shoulder to the butt of his rifle with a stout heart. His peace is the +greater if he hears a senior, who has taught him his soldiering and +broken his head on occasion, whispering: “They'll shout and carry on +like this for five minutes. Then they'll rush in, and then we've got 'em +by the short hairs!” + +But, on the other hand, if he sees only men of his own term of service, +turning white and playing with their triggers and saying: “What the +Hell's up now?” while the Company Commanders are sweating into +their sword-hilts and shouting: “Front rank, fix bayonets. Steady +there--steady! Sight for three hundred--no, for five! Lie down, all! +Steady! Front rank kneel!” and so forth, he becomes unhappy, and grows +acutely miserable when he hears a comrade turn over with the rattle of +fire-irons falling into the fender, and the grunt of a pole-axed ox. If +he can be moved about a little and allowed to watch the effect of his +own fire on the enemy he feels merrier, and may be then worked up to +the blind passion of fighting, which is, contrary to general belief, +controlled by a chilly Devil and shakes men like ague. If he is not +moved about, and begins to feel cold at the pit of the stomach, and in +that crisis is badly mauled and hears orders that were never given, he +will break, and he will break badly, and of all things under the +light of the Sun there is nothing more terrible than a broken British +regiment. When the worst comes to the worst and the panic is really +epidemic, the men must be e'en let go, and the Company Commanders had +better escape to the enemy and stay there for safety's sake. If they can +be made to come again they are not pleasant men to meet; because they +will not break twice. + +About thirty years from this date, when we have succeeded in +half-educating everything that wears trousers, our Army will be a +beautifully unreliable machine. It will know too much and it will do too +little. Later still, when all men are at the mental level of the officer +of to-day, it will sweep the earth. Speaking roughly, you must employ +either blackguards or gentlemen, or, best of all, blackguards commanded +by gentlemen, to do butcher's work with efficiency and despatch. The +ideal soldier should, of course, think for himself--the “Pocket-book” + says so. Unfortunately, to attain this virtue, he has to pass through +the phase of thinking of himself, and that is misdirected genius. A +blackguard may be slow to think for himself, but he is genuinely anxious +to kill, and a little punishment teaches him how to guard his own skin +and perforate another's. A powerfully prayerful Highland Regiment, +officered by rank Presbyterians, is, perhaps, one degree more terrible +in action than a hard-bitten thousand of irresponsible Irish ruffians +led by most improper young unbelievers. But these things prove the +rule--which is that the midway men are not to be trusted alone. They have +ideas about the value of life and an upbringing that has not taught them +to go on and take the chances. They are carefully unprovided with a +backing of comrades who have been shot over, and until that backing is +re-introduced, as a great many Regimental Commanders intend it shall be, +they are more liable to disgrace themselves than the size of the Empire +or the dignity of the Army allows. Their officers are as good as good +can be, because their training begins early, and God has arranged that a +clean-run youth of the British middle classes shall, in the matter of +backbone, brains, and bowels, surpass all other youths. For this reason +a child of eighteen will stand up, doing nothing, with a tin sword in +his hand and joy in his heart until he is dropped. If he dies, he dies +like a gentleman. If he lives, he writes Home that he has been “potted,” + “sniped,” “chipped,” or “cut over,” and sits down to besiege Government +for a wound-gratuity until the next little war breaks out, when he +perjures himself before a Medical Board, blarneys his Colonel, burns +incense round his Adjutant, and is allowed to go to the Front once more. + +Which homily brings me directly to a brace of the most finished little +fiends that ever banged drum or tootled fife in the Band of a British +Regiment. They ended their sinful career by open and flagrant mutiny +and were shot for it. Their names were Jakin and Lew--Piggy Lew and +they were bold, bad drummer-boys, both of them frequently birched by the +Drum-Major of the Fore and Aft. + +Jakin was a stunted child of fourteen, and Lew was about the same age. +When not looked after, they smoked and drank. They swore habitually +after the manner of the Barrack-room, which is cold swearing and comes +from between clenched teeth, and they fought religiously once a week. +Jakin had sprung from some London gutter, and may or may not have +passed through Dr. Barnardo's hands ere he arrived at the dignity of +drummer-boy. Lew could remember nothing except the Regiment and the +delight of listening to the Band from his earliest years. He hid +somewhere in his grimy little soul a genuine love for music, and was +most mistakenly furnished with the head of a cherub: insomuch that +beautiful ladies who watched the Regiment in church were wont to speak +of him as a “darling.” They never heard his vitriolic comments on their +manners and morals, as he walked back to barracks with the Band and +matured fresh causes of offence against Jakin. + +The other drummer-boys hated both lads on account of their illogical +conduct. Jakin might be pounding Lew, or Lew might be rubbing Jakin's +head in the dirt, but any attempt at aggression on the part of an +outsider was met by the combined forces of Lew and Jakin; and the +consequences were painful. The boys were the Ishmaels of the corps, but +wealthy Ishmaels, for they sold battles in alternate weeks for the sport +of the barracks when they were not pitted against other boys; and thus +amassed money. + +On this particular day there was dissension in the camp. They had just +been convicted afresh of smoking, which is bad for little boys who use +plug-tobacco, and Lew's contention was that Jakin had “stunk so +'orrid bad from keepin' the pipe in pocket,” that he and he alone was +responsible for the birching they were both tingling under. + +“I tell you I 'id the pipe back o' barracks,” said Jakin pacifically. + +“You're a bloomin' liar,” said Lew without heat. + +“You're a bloomin' little barstard,” said Jakin, strong in the knowledge +that his own ancestry was unknown. + +Now there is one word in the extended vocabulary of barrack-room abuse +that cannot pass without comment. You may call a man a thief and risk +nothing. You may even call him a coward without finding more than a boot +whiz past your ear, but you must not call a man a bastard unless you are +prepared to prove it on his front teeth. + +“You might ha' kep' that till I wasn't so sore,” said Lew sorrowfully, +dodging round Jakin's guard. + +“I'll make you sorer,” said Jakin genially, and got home on Lew's +alabaster forehead. All would have gone well and this story, as the +books say, would never have been written, had not his evil fate prompted +the Bazar-Sergeant's son, a long, employless man of five-and-twenty, to +put in an appearance after the first round. He was eternally in need of +money, and knew that the boys had silver. + +“Fighting again,” said he. “I'll report you to my father, and he'll +report you to the Colour-Sergeant.” + +“What's that to you?” said Jakin with an unpleasant dilation of the +nostrils. + +“Oh! nothing to me. You'll get into trouble, and you've been up too +often to afford that.” + +“What the Hell do you know about what we've done?” asked Lew the Seraph. +“You aren't in the Army, you lousy, cadging civilian.” + +He closed in on the man's left flank. + +“Jes' 'cause you find two gentlemen settlin' their diff'rences with +their fistes you stick in your ugly nose where you aren't wanted. Run +'ome to your 'arf-caste slut of a Ma--or we'll give you what-for,” said +Jakin. + +The man attempted reprisals by knocking the boys' heads together. The +scheme would have succeeded had not Jakin punched him vehemently in +the stomach, or had Lew refrained from kicking his shins. They fought +together, bleeding and breathless, for half an hour, and, after heavy +punishment, triumphantly pulled down their opponent as terriers pull +down a jackal. + +“Now,” gasped Jakin, “I'll give you what-for.” He proceeded to pound +the man's features while Lew stamped on the outlying portions of his +anatomy. Chivalry is not a strong point in the composition of the +average drummer-boy. He fights, as do his betters, to make his mark. + +Ghastly was the ruin that escaped, and awful was the wrath of the +Bazar-Sergeant. Awful too was the scene in Orderly-room when the two +reprobates appeared to answer the charge of half-murdering a “civilian.” + The Bazar-Sergeant thirsted for a criminal action, and his son lied. The +boys stood to attention while the black clouds of evidence accumulated. + +“You little devils are more trouble than the rest of the Regiment +put together,” said the Colonel angrily. “One might as well admonish +thistledown, and I can't well put you in cells or under stoppages. You +must be birched again.” + +“Beg y' pardon, Sir. Can't we say nothin' in our own defence, Sir?” + shrilled Jakin. + +“Hey! What? Are you going to argue with me?” said the Colonel. + +“No, Sir,” said Lew. “But if a man come to you, Sir, and said he was +going to report you, Sir, for 'aving a bit of a turn-up with a friend, +Sir, an' wanted to get money out o' you, Sir-” + +The Orderly-room exploded in a roar of laughter. “Well?” said the +Colonel. + +“That was what that measly jarnwar there did, Sir, and 'e'd 'a' done it, +Sir, if we 'adn't prevented 'im. We didn't 'it 'im much, Sir. 'E 'adn't +no manner o' right to interfere with us, Sir. I don't mind bein' birched +by the Drum-Major, Sir, nor yet reported by any Corp'ral, but I'm--but +I don't think it's fair, Sir, for a civilian to come an' talk over a man +in the Army.” + +A second shout of laughter shook the Orderly-room, but the Colonel was +grave. + +“What sort of characters have these boys?” he asked of the Regimental +Sergeant-Major. + +“Accordin' to the Bandmaster, Sir,” returned that revered official--the +only soul in the Regiment whom the boys feared--“they do everything but +lie, Sir.” + +“Is it like we'd go for that man for fun, Sir?” said Lew, pointing to +the plaintiff. + +“Oh, admonished--admonished!” said the Colonel testily, and when the +boys had gone he read the Bazar-Sergeant's son a lecture on the sin of +unprofitable meddling, and gave orders that the Bandmaster should keep +the Drums in better discipline. + +“If either of you come to practice again with so much as a scratch on +your two ugly little faces,” thundered the Bandmaster, “I'll tell the +Drum-Major to take the skin off your backs. Understand that, you young +devils.” + +Then he repented of his speech for just the length of time that Lew, +looking like a seraph in red worsted embellishments, took the place +of one of the trumpets--in hospital--and rendered the echo of a +battle-piece. Lew certainly was a musician, and had often in his more +exalted moments expressed a yearning to master every instrument of the +Band. + +“There's nothing to prevent your becoming a Bandmaster, Lew,” said the +Bandmaster, who had composed waltzes of his own, and worked day and +night in the interests of the Band. + +“What did he say?” demanded Jakin after practice. + +“Said I might be a bloomin' Bandmaster, an' be asked in to 'ave a glass +o' sherry wine on Mess-nights.” + +“Ho! 'Said you might be a bloomin' noncombatant, did 'e! That's just +about wot 'e would say. When I've put in my boy's service it's a +bloomin' shame that doesn't count for pension--I'll take on as a privit. +Then I'll be a Lance in a year--knowin' what I know about the ins an' +outs o' things. In three years I'll be a bloomin' Sergeant. I won't +marry then, not I! I'll 'old on and learn the orf'cers' ways an' apply +for exchange into a reg'ment that doesn't know all about me. Then I'll +be a bloomin' orf'cer. Then I'll ask you to 'ave a glass o' sherry wine, +Mister Lew, an' you'll bloomin' well 'ave to stay in the hanty-room +while the Mess-Sergeant brings it to your dirty 'ands.” + +“S'pose I'm going to be a Bandmaster? Not I, quite. I'll be a orf'cer +too. There's nothin' like takin' to a thing an' stickin' to it, the +Schoolmaster says. The Reg'ment don't go 'ome for another seven years. +I'll be a Lance then or near to.” + +Thus the boys discussed their futures, and conducted themselves +piously for a week. That is to say, Lew started a flirtation with the +Colour-Sergeant's daughter, aged thirteen--“not,” as he explained to +Jakin, “with any intention o' matrimony, but by way o' keep in' my 'and +in.” And the black-haired Cris Delighan enjoyed that flirtation more +than previous ones, and the other drummer-boys raged furiously together, +and Jakin preached sermons on the dangers of bein' tangled along o' +petticoats. + +But neither love nor virtue would have held Lew long in the paths of +propriety had not the rumour gone abroad that the Regiment was to be +sent on active service, to take part in a war which, for the sake of +brevity, we will call “The War of the Lost Tribes.” + +The barracks had the rumour almost before the Mess-room, and of all the +nine hundred men in barracks, not ten had seen a shot fired in anger. +The Colonel had, twenty years ago, assisted at a Frontier expedition; +one of the Majors had seen service at the Cape; a confirmed deserter in +E Company had helped to clear streets in Ireland; but that was all. The +Regiment had been put by for many years. The overwhelming mass of +its rank and file had from three to four years' service; the +non-commissioned officers were under thirty years old; and men and +sergeants alike had forgotten to speak of the stories written in brief +upon the Colours--the New Colours that had been formally blessed by an +Archbishop in England ere the Regiment came away. They wanted to go to +the Front--they were enthusiastically anxious to go--but they had no +knowledge of what war meant, and there was none to tell them. They were +an educated regiment, the percentage of school-certificates in their +ranks was high, and most of the men could do more than read and write. +They had been recruited in loyal observance of the territorial idea; but +they themselves had no notion of that idea. They were made up of drafts +from an over-populated manufacturing district. The system had put flesh +and muscle upon their small bones, but it could not put heart into the +sons of those who for generations had done overmuch work for overscanty +pay, had sweated in drying-rooms, stooped over looms, coughed among +white-lead, and shivered on lime-barges. The men had found food and rest +in the Army, and now they were going to fight “niggers”--people who ran +away if you shook a stick at them. Wherefore they cheered lustily +when the rumour ran, and the shrewd, clerkly non-commissioned officers +speculated on the chances of batta and of saving their pay. At +Headquarters men said: “The Fore and Fit have never been under fire +within the last generation. Let us, therefore, break them in easily by +setting them to guard lines of communication.” And this would have +been done but for the fact that British Regiments were wanted--badly +wanted--at the Front, and there were doubtful Native Regiments that +could fill the minor duties. “Brigade 'em with two strong Regiments,” + said Headquarters. “They may be knocked about a bit, but they'll learn +their business before they come through. Nothing like a night-alarm and +a little cutting-up of stragglers to make a Regiment smart in the field. +Wait till they've had half a dozen sentries' throats cut.” + +The Colonel wrote with delight that the temper of his men was excellent, +that the Regiment was all that could be wished, and as sound as a bell. +The Majors smiled with a sober joy, and the subalterns waltzed in +pairs down the Mess-room after dinner, and nearly shot themselves at +revolver-practice. But there was consternation in the hearts of Jakin +and Lew. What was to be done with the Drums? Would the Band go to the +Front? How many of the Drums would accompany the Regiment? + +They took counsel together, sitting in a tree and smoking. + +“It's more than a bloomin' toss-up they'll leave us be'ind at the Depot +with the women. You'll like that,” said Jakin sarcastically. + +“Cause o' Cris, y' mean? Wot's a woman, or a 'ole bloomin' depot o' +women, 'longside o' the chanst of field-service? You know I'm as keen on +goin' as you,” said Lew. + +“Wish I was a bloomin' bugler,” said Jakin sadly. “They'll take Tom Kidd +along, that I can plaster a wall with, an' like as not they won't take +us.” + +“Then let's go an' make Tom Kidd so bloomin' sick 'e can't bugle no +more. You 'old 'is 'ands an' I'll kick him,” said Lew, wriggling on the +branch. + +“That ain't no good neither. We ain't the sort o' characters to presoom +on our rep'tations--they're bad. If they have the Band at the Depot we +don't go, and no error there. If they take the Band we may get cast for +medical unfitness. Are you medical fit, Piggy?” said Jakin, digging Lew +in the ribs with force. + +“Yus,” said Lew with an oath. “The Doctor says your 'eart's weak through +smokin' on an empty stummick. Throw a chest an' I'll try yer.” + +Jakin threw out his chest, which Lew smote with all his might. Jakin +turned very pale, gasped, crowed, screwed up his eyes, and said--“That's +all right.” + +“You'll do,” said Lew. “I've 'eard o' men dying when you 'it 'em fair on +the breastbone.” + +“Don't bring us no nearer goin', though,” said Jakin. “Do you know where +we're ordered?” + +“Gawd knows, an' 'E won't split on a pal. Somewheres up to the Front to +kill Paythans--hairy big beggars that turn you inside out if they get +'old o' you. They say their women are good-looking, too.” + +“Any loot?” asked the abandoned Jakin. + +“Not a bloomin' anna, they say, unless you dig up the ground an' see +what the niggers 'ave 'id. They're a poor lot.” Jakin stood upright on +the branch and gazed across the plain. + +“Lew,” said he, “there's the Colonel coming. 'Colonel's a good old +beggar. Let's go an' talk to 'im.” + +Lew nearly fell out of the tree at the audacity of the suggestion. Like +Jakin he feared not God, neither regarded he Man, but there are limits +even to the audacity of a drummer-boy, and to speak to a Colonel was-- + +But Jakin had slid down the trunk and doubled in the direction of the +Colonel. That officer was walking wrapped in thought and visions of a +C. B. yes, even a K. C. B., for had he not at command one of the best +Regiments of the Line--the Fore and Fit? And he was aware of two small +boys charging down upon him. Once before it had been solemnly reported +to him that “the Drums were in a state of mutiny,” Jakin and Lew being +the ringleaders. This looked like an organised conspiracy. + +The boys halted at twenty yards, walked to the regulation four paces, +and saluted together, each as well set-up as a ramrod and little taller. + +The Colonel was in a genial mood; the boys appeared very forlorn and +unprotected on the desolate plain, and one of them was handsome. + +“Well!” said the Colonel, recognising them. “Are you going to pull me +down in the open? I'm sure I never interfere with you, even though”--he +sniffed suspiciously--“you have been smoking.” + +It was time to strike while the iron was hot. Their hearts beat +tumultuously. + +“Beg y' pardon, Sir,” began Jakin. “The Reg'ment's ordered on active +service, Sir?” + +“So I believe,” said the Colonel courteously. + +“Is the Band goin', Sir?” said both together. Then, without pause, +“We're goin', Sir, ain't we?” + +“You!” said the Colonel, stepping back the more fully to take in the two +small figures. “You! You'd die in the first march.” + +“No, we wouldn't, Sir. We can march with the Reg'ment anywheres--p'rade +an' anywhere else,” said Jakin. + +“If Tom Kidd goes 'e'll shut up like a clasp-knife,” said Lew. “Tom 'as +very-close veins in both 'is legs, Sir.” + +“Very how much?” + +“Very-close veins, Sir. That's why they swells after long p'rade, Sir. +If 'e can go, we can go, Sir.” + +Again the Colonel looked at them long and intently. + +“Yes, the Band is going,” he said as gravely as though he had been +addressing a brother officer. “Have you any parents, either of you two?” + +“No, Sir,” rejoicingly from Lew and Jakin. “We're both orphans, Sir. +There's no one to be considered of on our account, Sir.” + +“You poor little sprats, and you want to go up to the Front with the +Regiment, do you? Why?” + +“I've wore the Queen's Uniform for two years,” said Jakin. “It's very +'ard, Sir, that a man don't get no recompense for doin' of 'is dooty, +Sir.” + +“An'--an' if I don't go, Sir,” interrupted Lew, “the Bandmaster 'e says +'e'll catch an' make a bloo--a blessed musician o' me, Sir. Before I've +seen any service, Sir.” + +The Colonel made no answer for a long time. Then he said quietly: “If +you're passed by the Doctor I dare say you can go. I shouldn't smoke if +I were you.” + +The boys saluted and disappeared. The Colonel walked home and told +the story to his wife, who nearly cried over it. The Colonel was well +pleased. If that was the temper of the children, what would not the men +do? + +Jakin and Lew entered the boys' barrack-room with great stateliness, and +refused to hold any conversation with their comrades for at least ten +minutes. Then, bursting with pride, Jakin drawled: “I've bin intervooin' +the Colonel. Good old beggar is the Colonel. Says I to 'im, 'Colonel,' +says I, 'let me go to the Front, along o' the Reg'ment.--'To the Front +you shall go,' says 'e, 'an' I only wish there was more like you among +the dirty little devils that bang the bloomin' drums.' Kidd, if you +throw your 'courtrements at me for tellin' you the truth to your own +advantage, your legs'll swell.” + +None the less there was a Battle-Royal in the barrack-room, for the boys +were consumed with envy and hate, and neither Jakin nor Lew behaved in +conciliatory wise. + +“I'm goin' out to say adoo to my girl,” said Lew, to cap the climax. +“Don't none o' you touch my kit because it's wanted for active service; +me bein' specially invited to go by the Colonel.” + +He strolled forth and whistled in the clump of trees at the back of +the Married Quarters till Cris came to him, and, the preliminary kisses +being given and taken, Lew began to explain the situation. + +“I'm goin' to the Front with the Reg'ment,” he said valiantly. + +“Piggy, you're a little liar,” said Cris, but her heart misgave her, for +Lew was not in the habit of lying. + +“Liar yourself, Cris,” said Lew, slipping an arm round her. “I'm goin'. +When the Reg'ment marches out you'll see me with 'em, all galliant and +gay. Give us another kiss, Cris, on the strength of it.” + +“If you'd on'y a-stayed at the Depot--where you ought to ha' bin--you +could get as many of 'em as--as you dam please,” whimpered Cris, putting +up her mouth. + +“It's 'ard, Cris. I grant you it's 'ard, But what's a man to do? If I'd +a-stayed at the Depot, you wouldn't think anything of me.” + +“Like as not, but I'd 'ave you with me, Piggy. An' all the thinkin' in +the world isn't like kissin'.” + +“An' all the kissin' in the world isn't like 'avin' a medal to wear on +the front o' your coat.” + +“You won't get no medal.” + +“Oh, yus, I shall though. Me an' Jakin are the only acting-drummers +that'll be took along. All the rest is full men, an' we'll get our +medals with them.” + +“They might ha' taken anybody but you, Piggy. You'll get killed--you're +so venturesome. Stay with me, Piggy darlin', down at the Depot, an' I'll +love you true, for ever.” + +“Ain't you goin' to do that now, Cris? You said you was.” + +“O' course I am, but th' other's more comfortable. Wait till you've +growed a bit, Piggy. You aren't no taller than me now.” + +“I've bin in the Army for two years, an' I'm not goin' to get out of a +chanst o' seein' service, an' don't you try to make me do so. I'll come +back, Cris, an' when I take on as a man I'll marry you--marry you when +I'm a Lance.” + +“Promise, Piggy.” + +Lew reflected on the future as arranged by Jakin a short time +previously, but Cris's mouth was very near to his own. + +“I promise, s'elp me Gawd!” said he. + +Cris slid an arm round his neck. + +“I won't 'old you back no more, Piggy. Go away an' get your medal, an' +I'll make you a new button-bag as nice as I know how,” she whispered. + +“Put some o' your 'air into it, Cris, an' I'll keep it in my pocket so +long's I'm alive.” + +Then Cris wept anew, and the interview ended. Public feeling among the +drummer-boys rose to fever pitch, and the lives of Jakin and Lew became +unenviable. Not only had they been permitted to enlist two years before +the regulation boy's age--fourteen--but, by virtue, it seemed, of their +extreme youth, they were allowed to go to the Front--which thing had not +happened to acting-drummers within the knowledge of boy. The Band which +was to accompany the Regiment had been cut down to the regulation twenty +men, the surplus returning to the ranks. Jakin and Lew were attached to +the Band as supernumeraries, though they would much have preferred being +company buglers. + +“Don't matter much,” said Jakin after the medical inspection. “Be +thankful that we're 'lowed to go at all. The Doctor 'e said that if we +could stand what we took from the Bazar-Sergeant's son we'd stand pretty +nigh anything.” + +“Which we will,” said Lew, looking tenderly at the ragged and ill-made +housewife that Cris had given him, with a lock of her hair worked into a +sprawling “L” upon the cover. + +“It was the best I could,” she sobbed. “I wouldn't let mother nor the +Sergeant's tailor 'elp me. Keep it always, Piggy, an' remember I love +you true.” + +They marched to the railway station, nine hundred and sixty strong, +and every soul in cantonments turned out to see them go. The drummers +gnashed their teeth at Jakin and Lew marching with the Band, the married +women wept upon the platform, and the Regiment cheered its noble self +black in the face. + +“A nice level lot,” said the Colonel to the Second-in-Command as they +watched the first four companies entraining. + +“Fit to do anything,” said the Second-in-Command enthusiastically. “But +it seems to me they're a thought too young and tender for the work in +hand. It's bitter cold up at the Front now.” + +“They're sound enough,” said the Colonel. “We must take our chance of +sick casualties.” + +So they went northward, ever northward, past droves and droves of +camels, armies of camp-followers, and legions of laden mules, the throng +thickening day by day, till with a shriek the train pulled up at +a hopelessly congested junction where six lines of temporary track +accommodated six forty-waggon trains; where whistles blew, Babus +sweated, and Commissariat officers swore from dawn till far into the +night, amid the wind-driven chaff of the fodder-bales and the lowing of +a thousand steers. + +“Hurry up--you're badly wanted at the Front,” was the message that +greeted the Fore and Aft, and the occupants of the Red Cross carriages +told the same tale. + +“Tisn't so much the bloomin' fightin',” gasped a headbound trooper +of Hussars to a knot of admiring Fore and Afts. “Tisn't so much the +bloomin' fightin', though there's enough o' that. It's the bloomin' +food an' the bloomin' climate. Frost all night 'cept when it hails, and +b'iling sun all day, and the water stinks fit to knock you down. I got +my 'ead chipped like a egg; I've got pneumonia too, an' my guts is all +out o' order. 'Tain't no bloomin' picnic in those parts, I can tell +you.” + +“Wot are the niggers like?” demanded a private. + +“There's some prisoners in that train yonder. Go an' look at 'em. +They're the aristocracy o' the country. The common folk are a dashed +sight uglier. If you want to know what they fight with, reach under my +seat an' pull out the long knife that's there.” + +They dragged out and beheld for the first time the grim, bone-handled, +triangular Afghan knife. It was almost as long as Lew. + +“That's the thing to j'int ye,” said the trooper feebly. “It can take +off a man's arm at the shoulder as easy as slicing butter. I halved the +beggar that used that un, but there's more of his likes up above. They +don't understand thrustin', but they're devils to slice.” + +The men strolled across the tracks to inspect the Afghan prisoners. +They were unlike any “niggers” that the Fore and Aft had ever met--these +huge, black-haired, scowling sons of the Beni-Israel. As the men stared +the Afghans spat freely and muttered one to another with lowered eyes. + +“My eyes! Wot awful swine!” said Jakin, who was in the rear of the +procession. “Say, ole man, how you got puckrowed, eh? Kiswasti you +wasn't hanged for your ugly face, hey?” + +The tallest of the company turned, his leg-irons clanking at the +movement, and stared at the boy. “See!” he cried to his fellows in +Pushto. “They send children against us. What a people, and what fools!” + +“Hya.” said Jakin, nodding his head cheerily. “You go down-country. +Khana get, peenikapanee get--live like a bloomin' Raja ke marfik. That's +a better bandobust than baynit get it in your innards. Good-bye, ole +man. Take care o' your beautiful figure'ead, an' try to look kushy.” + +The men laughed and fell in for their first march, when they began to +realise that a soldier's life is not all beer and skittles. They were +much impressed with the size and bestial ferocity of the niggers whom +they had now learned to call “Paythans,” and more with the exceeding +discomfort of their own surroundings. Twenty old soldiers in the corps +would have taught them how to make themselves moderately snug at night, +but they had no old soldiers, and, as the troops on the line of march +said, “they lived like pigs.” They learned the heart-breaking cussedness +of camp-kitchens and camels and the depravity of an E. P. tent and a +wither-wrung mule. They studied animalculae in water, and developed a +few cases of dysentery in their study. + +At the end of their third march they were disagreeably surprised by the +arrival in their camp of a hammered iron slug which, fired from a steady +rest at seven hundred yards, flicked out the brains of a private seated +by the fire. This robbed them of their peace for a night, and was the +beginning of a long-range fire carefully calculated to that end. In the +daytime they saw nothing except an unpleasant puff of smoke from a crag +above the line of march. At night there were distant spurts of flame and +occasional casualties, which set the whole camp blazing into the gloom +and, occasionally, into opposite tents. Then they swore vehemently and +vowed that this was magnificent but not war. + +Indeed it was not. The Regiment could not halt for reprisals against the +sharpshooters of the country-side. Its duty was to go forward and +make connection with the Scotch and Goorkha troops with which it +was brigaded. The Afghans knew this, and knew too, after their first +tentative shots, that they were dealing with a raw regiment Thereafter +they devoted themselves to the task of keeping the Fore and Aft on the +strain. Not for anything would they have taken equal liberties with a +seasoned corps--with the wicked little Goorkhas, whose delight it was to +lie out in the open on a dark night and stalk their stalkers--with the +terrible big men dressed in women's clothes, who could be heard praying +to their God in the night-watches, and whose peace of mind no amount +of “sniping” could shake--or with those vile Sikhs, who marched so +ostentatiously unprepared and who dealt out such grim reward to those +who tried to profit by that unpreparedness. This white regiment was +different--quite different. It slept like a hog, and, like a hog, +charged in every direction when it was roused. Its sentries walked with +a footfall that could be heard for a quarter of a mile; would fire at +anything that moved--even a driven donkey--and when they had once fired, +could be scientifically “rushed” and laid out a horror and an offence +against the morning sun. Then there were camp-followers who straggled +and could be cut up without fear. Their shrieks would disturb the white +boys, and the loss of their services would inconvenience them sorely. + +Thus, at every march, the hidden enemy became bolder and the Regiment +writhed and twisted under attacks it could not avenge. The crowning +triumph was a sudden night-rush ending in the cutting of many +tent-ropes, the collapse of the sodden canvas, and a glorious knifing +of the men who struggled and kicked below. It was a great deed, neatly +carried out, and it shook the already shaken nerves of the Fore and Aft. +All the courage that they had been required to exercise up to this point +was the “two o'clock in the morning courage”; and, so far, they had only +succeeded in shooting their comrades and losing their sleep. + +Sullen, discontented, cold, savage, sick, with their uniforms dulled and +unclean, the Fore and Aft joined their Brigade. + +“I hear you had a tough time of it coming up,” said the Brigadier. But +when he saw the hospital-sheets his face fell. + +“This is bad,” said he to himself. “They're as rotten as sheep.” And +aloud to the Colonel--“I'm afraid we can't spare you just yet. We want +all we have, else I should have given you ten days to recover in.” + +The Colonel winced. “On my honour, Sir,” he returned, “there is not the +least necessity to think of sparing us. My men have been rather mauled +and upset without a fair return. They only want to go in somewhere where +they can see what's before them.” + +“Can't say I think much of the Fore and Fit,” said the Brigadier in +confidence to his Brigade-Major. “They've lost all their soldiering, +and, by the trim of them, might have marched through the country from +the other side. A more fagged-out set of men I never put eyes on.” + +“Oh, they'll improve as the work goes on. The parade gloss has been +rubbed off a little, but they'll put on field polish before long,” said +the Brigade-Major. “They've been mauled, and they don't quite understand +it.” + +They did not. All the hitting was on one side, and it was cruelly hard +hitting with accessories that made them sick. There was also the real +sickness that laid hold of a strong man and dragged him howling to the +grave. Worst of all, their officers knew just as little of the country +as the men themselves, and looked as if they did. The Fore and Aft were +in a thoroughly unsatisfactory condition, but they believed that +all would be well if they could once get a fair go-in at the enemy. +Pot-shots up and down the valleys were unsatisfactory, and the bayonet +never seemed to get a chance. Perhaps it was as well, for a long-limbed +Afghan with a knife had a reach of eight feet, and could carry away lead +that would disable three Englishmen. + +The Fore and Aft would like some rifle-practice at the enemy--all seven +hundred rifles blazing together. That wish showed the mood of the men. + +The Goorkhas walked into their camp, and in broken, barrack-room English +strove to fraternise with them: offered them pipes of tobacco and stood +them treat at the canteen. But the Fore and Aft, not knowing much of +the nature of the Goorkhas, treated them as they would treat any other +“niggers,” and the little men in green trotted back to their firm +friends the Highlanders, and with many grins confided to them: “That +dam white regiment no dam use. Sulky--ugh! Dirty--ugh! Hya, any tot for +Johnny?” Whereat the Highlanders smote the Goorkhas as to the head, and +told them not to vilify a British Regiment, and the Goorkhas grinned +cavernously, for the Highlanders were their elder brothers and entitled +to the privileges of kinship. The common soldier who touches a Goorkha +is more than likely to have his head sliced open. + +Three days later the Brigadier arranged a battle according to the rules +of war and the peculiarity of the Afghan temperament. The enemy were +massing in inconvenient strength among the hills, and the moving of +many green standards warned him that the tribes were “up” in aid of +the Afghan regular troops. A squadron and a half of Bengal Lancers +represented the available Cavalry, and two screw-guns, borrowed from a +column thirty miles away, the Artillery at the General's disposal. + +“If they stand, as I've a very strong notion that they will, I fancy +we shall see an infantry fight that will be worth watching,” said the +Brigadier. “We'll do it in style. Each regiment shall be played into +action by its Band, and we'll hold the Cavalry in reserve.” + +“For all the reserve?” somebody asked. + +“For all the reserve; because we're going to crumple them up,” said the +Brigadier, who was an extraordinary Brigadier, and did not believe in +the value of a reserve when dealing with Asiatics. Indeed, when you come +to think of it, had the British Army consistently waited for reserves in +all its little affairs, the boundaries of Our Empire would have stopped +at Brighton beach. + +The battle was to be a glorious battle. + +The three regiments debouching from three separate gorges, after duly +crowning the heights above, were to converge from the centre, left, and +right upon what we will call the Afghan army, then stationed towards +the lower extremity of a flat-bottomed valley. Thus it will be seen that +three sides of the valley practically belonged to the English, while the +fourth was strictly Afghan property. In the event of defeat the Afghans +had the rocky hills to fly to, where the fire from the guerrilla tribes +in aid would cover their retreat. In the event of victory these same +tribes would rush down and lend their weight to the rout of the British. + +The screw-guns were to shell the head of each Afghan rush that was +made in close formation, and the Cavalry, held in reserve in the right +valley, were to gently stimulate the break-up which would follow on +the combined attack. The Brigadier, sitting upon a rock overlooking the +valley, would watch the battle unrolled at his feet. The Fore and Aft +would debouch from the central gorge, the Goorkhas from the left, and +the Highlanders from the right, for the reason that the left flank of +the enemy seemed as though it required the most hammering. It was not +every day that an Afghan force would take ground in the open, and the +Brigadier was resolved to make the most of it. + +“If we only had a few more men,” he said plaintively, “we could surround +the creatures and crumple 'em up thoroughly. As it is, I'm afraid we can +only cut them up as they run. It's a great pity.” + +The Fore and Aft had enjoyed unbroken peace for five days, and were +beginning, in spite of dysentery, to recover their nerve. But they were +not happy, for they did not know the work in hand, and had they known, +would not have known how to do it. Throughout those five days in +which old soldiers might have taught them the craft of the game, they +discussed together their misadventures in the past--how such an one was +alive at dawn and dead ere the dusk, and with what shrieks and struggles +such another had given up his soul under the Afghan knife. Death was +a new and horrible thing to the sons of mechanics who were used to die +decently of zymotic disease; and their careful conservation in barracks +had done nothing to make them look upon it with less dread. + +Very early in the dawn the bugles began to blow, and the Fore and Aft, +filled with a misguided enthusiasm, turned out without waiting for a cup +of coffee and a biscuit; and were rewarded by being kept under arms in +the cold while the other regiments leisurely prepared for the fray. All +the world knows that it is ill taking the breeks off a Highlander. It +is much iller to try to make him stir unless he is convinced of the +necessity for haste. 507 The Fore and Aft waited, leaning upon their +rifles and listening to the protests of their empty stomachs. The +Colonel did his best to remedy the default of lining as soon as it was +borne in upon him that the affair would not begin at once, and so well +did he succeed that the coffee was just ready when--the men moved off, +their Band leading. Even then there had been a mistake in time, and +the Fore and Aft came out into the valley ten minutes before the proper +hour. Their Band wheeled to the right after reaching the open, and +retired behind a little rocky knoll still playing while the Regiment +went past. + +It was not a pleasant sight that opened on the uninstructed view, +for the lower end of the valley appeared to be filled by an army in +position--real and actual regiments attired in red coats, and--of this +there was no doubt--firing Martini-Henry bullets which cut up the ground +a hundred yards in front of the leading company. Over that pock-marked +ground the Regiment had to pass, and it opened the ball with a general +and profound courtesy to the piping pickets; ducking in perfect time, as +though it had been brazed on a rod. Being half capable of thinking for +itself, it fired a volley by the simple process of pitching its +rifle into its shoulder and pulling the trigger. The bullets may have +accounted for some of the watchers on the hill side, but they certainly +did not affect the mass of enemy in front, while the noise of the rifles +drowned any orders that might have been given. + +“Good God!” said the Brigadier, sitting on the rock high above all. +“That Regiment has spoilt the whole show. Hurry up the others, and let +the screw-guns get off.” + +But the screw-guns, in working round the heights, had stumbled upon +a wasp's nest of a small mud fort which they incontinently shelled at +eight hundred yards, to the huge discomfort of the occupants, who were +unaccustomed to weapons of such devilish precision. + +The Fore and Aft continued to go forward, but with shortened stride. +Where were the other regiments, and why did these niggers use Martinis? +They took open order instinctively, lying down and firing at random, +rushing a few paces forward and lying down again, according to the +regulations. Once in this formation, each man felt himself desperately +alone, and edged in towards his fellow for comfort's sake. + +Then the crack of his neighbor's rifle at his ear led him to fire as +rapidly as he could--again for the sake of the comfort of the noise. The +reward was not long delayed. Five volleys plunged the files in banked +smoke impenetrable to the eye, and the bullets began to take ground +twenty or thirty yards in front of the firers, as the weight of the +bayonet dragged down and to the right arms wearied with holding the kick +of the leaping Martini. The Company Commanders peered helplessly through +the smoke, the more nervous mechanically trying to fan it away with +their helmets. + +“High and to the left!” bawled a Captain till he was hoarse. “No good! +Cease firing, and let it drift away a bit.” + +Three and four times the bugles shrieked the order, and when it was +obeyed the Fore and Aft looked that their foe should be lying before +them in mown swaths of men. A light wind drove the smoke to leeward, and +showed the enemy still in position and apparently unaffected. A quarter +of a ton of lead had been buried a furlong in front of them, as the +ragged earth attested. + +That was not demoralizing to the Afghans, who have not European nerves. +They were waiting for the mad riot to die down, and were firing quietly +into the heart of the smoke. A private of the Fore and Aft spun up his +company shrieking with agony, another was kicking the earth and gasping, +and a third, ripped through the lower intestines by a jagged bullet, was +calling aloud on his comrades to put him out of his pain. These were the +casualties, and they were not soothing to hear or see. The smoke cleared +to a dull haze. + +Then the foe began to shout with a great shouting, and a mass--a black +mass--detached itself from the main body, and rolled over the ground at +horrid speed. It was composed of, perhaps, three hundred men, who would +shout and fire and slash if the rush of their fifty comrades who were +determined to die carried home. The fifty were Ghazis, half maddened +with drugs and wholly mad with religious fanaticism. When they rushed +the British fire ceased, and in the lull the order was given to close +ranks and meet them with the bayonet. + +Any one who knew the business could have told the Fore and Aft that +the only way of dealing with a Ghazi rush is by volleys at long ranges; +because a man who means to die, who desires to die, who will gain heaven +by dying, must, in nine cases out of ten, kill a man who has a lingering +prejudice in favour of life. Where they should have closed and gone +forward, the Fore and Aft opened out and skirmished, and where they +should have opened out and fired, they closed and waited. + +A man dragged from his blankets half awake and unfed is never in a +pleasant frame of mind. Nor does his happiness increase when he watches +the whites of the eyes of three hundred six-foot fiends upon whose +beards the foam is lying, upon whose tongues is a roar of wrath, and in +whose hands are yard-long knives. + +The Fore and Aft heard the Goorkha bugles bringing that regiment forward +at the double, while the neighing of the Highland pipes came from the +left. They strove to stay where they were, though the bayonets wavered +down the line like the oars of a ragged boat. Then they felt body to +body the amazing physical strength of their foes; a shriek of pain +ended the rush, and the knives fell amid scenes not to be told. The +men clubbed together and smote blindly--as often as not at their own +fellows. Their front crumpled like paper, and the fifty Ghazis passed +on; their backers, now drunk with success, fighting as madly as they. + +Then the rear ranks were bidden to close up, and the subalterns dashed +into the stew--alone. For the rear-ranks had heard the clamour in front, +the yells and the howls of pain, and had seen the dark stale blood that +makes afraid. They were not going to stay. It was the rushing of the +camps over again. Let their officers go to Hell, if they chose; they +would get away from the knives. + +“Come on!” shrieked the subalterns, and their men, cursing them, drew +back, each closing in to his neighbour and wheeling round. + +Charteris and Devlin, subalterns of the last company, faced their death +alone in the belief that their men would follow. + +“You've killed me, you cowards,” sobbed Devlin and dropped, cut from the +shoulder-strap to the centre of the chest; and a fresh detachment of his +men retreating, always retreating, trampled him under foot as they made +for the pass whence they had emerged. + +I kissed her in the kitchen and I kissed her in the hall Child'un, +child'un, follow me! Oh Golly, said the cook, is he gwine to kiss us +all? Halla--Halla--Halla--Hallelujah! + +The Goorkhas were pouring through the left gorge and over the heights at +the double to the invitation of their Regimental Quick-step. The black +rocks were crowned with dark green spiders as the bugles gave tongue +jubilantly:-- + + In the morning! In the morning by the bright light! + When Gabriel blows his trumpet in the morning! + +The Goorkha rear companies tripped and blundered over loose stones. +The front files halted for a moment to take stock of the valley and to +settle stray boot-laces. Then a happy little sigh of contentment soughed +down the ranks, and it was as though the land smiled, for behold there +below was the enemy, and it was to meet them that the Goorkhas had +doubled so hastily. There was much enemy. There would be amusement. The +little men hitched their kukris well to hand, and gaped expectantly at +their officers as terriers grin ere the stone is cast for them to fetch. +The Goorkhas' ground sloped downward to the valley, and they enjoyed a +fair view of the proceedings. They sat upon the boulders to watch, +for their officers were not going to waste their wind in assisting to +repulse a Ghazi rush more than half a mile away. Let the white men look +to their own front. + +“Hi! yi!” said the Subadar-Major, who was sweating profusely. “Dam fools +yonder, stand close order! This is no time for close order, it is the +time for volleys. Ugh!” + +Horrified, amused, and indignant, the Goorkhas beheld the retirement of +the Fore and Aft with a running chorus of oaths and commentaries. + +“They run! The white men run! Colonel Sahib, may we also do a little +running?” murmured Runbir Thappa, the Senior Jemadar. + +But the Colonel would have none of it. “Let the beggars be cut up a +little,” said he wrathfully. “Serves 'em right. They'll be prodded into +facing round in a minute.” He looked through his field-glasses, and +caught the glint of an officer's sword. + +“Beating 'em with the flat--damned conscripts! How the Ghazis are +walking into them!” said he. + +The Fore and Aft, heading back, bore with them their officers. The +narrowness of the pass forced the mob into solid formation, and the rear +ranks delivered some sort of a wavering volley. The Ghazis drew off, for +they did not know what reserve the gorge might hide. Moreover, it was +never wise to chase white men too far. They returned as wolves return +to cover, satisfied with the slaughter that they had done, and only +stopping to slash at the wounded on the ground. A quarter of a mile had +the Fore and Aft retreated, and now, jammed in the pass, was quivering +with pain, shaken and demoralised with fear, while the officers, +maddened beyond control, smote the men with the hilts and the flats of +their swords. + +“Get back! Get back, you cowards--you women! Right about face--column +of companies, form--you hounds!” shouted the Colonel, and the subalterns +swore aloud. But the Regiment wanted to go--to go anywhere out of the +range of those merciless knives. It swayed to and fro irresolutely with +shouts and outcries, while from the right the Goorkhas dropped volley +after volley of cripple-stopper Snider bullets at long range into the +mob of the Ghazis returning to their own troops. + +The Fore and Aft Band, though protected from direct fire by the rocky +knoll under which it had sat down, fled at the first rush. Jakin and Lew +would have fled also, but their short legs left them fifty yards in the +rear, and by the time the Band had mixed with the Regiment, they were +painfully aware that they would have to close in alone and unsupported. + +“Get back to that rock,” gasped Jakin. “They won't see us there.” + +And they returned to the scattered instruments of the Band, their hearts +nearly bursting their ribs. + +“Here's a nice show for us,” said Jakin, throwing himself full length on +the ground. “A bloomin' fine show for British Infantry! Oh, the devils! +They've gone and left us alone here! Wot'll we do?” + +Lew took possession of a cast-off water-bottle, which naturally was full +of canteen rum, and drank till he coughed again. + +“Drink,” said he shortly. “They'll come back in a minute or two--you +see.” + +Jakin drank, but there was no sign of the Regiment's return. They could +hear a dull clamour from the head of the valley of retreat, and saw the +Ghazis slink back, quickening their pace as the Goorkhas fired at them. + +“We're all that's left of the Band, an' we'll be cut up as sure as +death,” said Jakin. + +“I'll die game, then,” said Lew thickly, fumbling with his tiny +drummer's sword. The drink was working on his brain as it was on +Jakin's. + +“'Old on! I know something better than fightin',” said Jakin, stung by +the splendour of a sudden thought due chiefly to rum. “Tip our bloomin' +cowards yonder the word to come back. The Paythan beggars are well away. +Come on, Lew! We won't get hurt. Take the fife an' give me the drum. The +Old Step for all your bloomin' guts are worth! There's a few of our +men coming back now. Stand up, ye drunken little defaulter. By your +right--quick march!” + +He slipped the drum-sling over his shoulder, thrust the fife into Lew's +hand, and the two boys marched out of the cover of the rock into +the open, making a hideous hash of the first bars of the “British +Grenadiers.” + +As Lew had said, a few of the Fore and Aft were coming back sullenly +and shamefacedly under the stimulus of blows and abuse; their red coats +shone at the head of the valley, and behind them were wavering bayonets. +But between this shattered line and the enemy, who with Afghan suspicion +feared that the hasty retreat meant an ambush, and had not moved +therefore, lay half a mile of level ground dotted only by the wounded. + +The tune settled into full swing and the boys kept shoulder to shoulder, +Jakin banging the drum as one possessed. The one fife made a thin and +pitiful squeaking, but the tune carried far, even to the Goorkhas. + +“Come on, you dogs!” muttered Jakin to himself. “Are we to play +forhever?” Lew was staring straight in front of him and marching more +stiffly than ever he had done on parade. + +And in bitter mockery of the distant mob, the old tune of the Old Line +shrilled and rattled:-- + + Some talk of Alexander, + And some of Hercules; + Of Hector and Lysander, + And such great names as these! + +There was a far-off clapping of hands from the Goorkhas, and a roar from +the Highlanders in the distance, but never a shot was fired by British +or Afghan. The two little red dots moved forward in the open parallel to +the enemy's front. + + But of all the world's great heroes + There's none that can compare, + With a tow-row-row-row-row-row, + To the British Grenadier! + +The men of the Fore and Aft were gathering thick at the entrance into +the plain. The Brigadier on the heights far above was speechless with +rage. Still no movement from the enemy. The day stayed to watch the +children. + +Jakin halted and beat the long roll of the Assembly, while the fife +squealed despairingly. + +“Right about face! Hold up, Lew, you're drunk,” said Jakin. They wheeled +and marched back:-- + + 'hose heroes of antiquity + Ne'er saw a cannon-ball, + Nor knew the force o' powder, + +“Here they come!” said Jakin. “Go on, Lew”:-- + + To scare their foes withal! + +The Fore and Aft were pouring out of the valley. What officers had said +to men in that time of shame and humiliation will never be known; for +neither officers nor men speak of it now. + +“They are coming anew!” shouted a priest among the Afghans. “Do not kill +the boys! Take them alive, and they shall be of our faith.” + +But the first volley had been fired, and Lew dropped on his face. Jakin +stood for a minute, spun round and collapsed, as the Fore and Aft came +forward, the curses of their officers in their ears, and in their hearts +the shame of open shame. + +Half the men had seen the drummers die, and they made no sign. They +did not even shout. They doubled out straight across the plain in open +order, and they did not fire. + +“This,” said the Colonel of Goorkhas, softly, “is the real attack, as it +should have been delivered. Come on, my children.” + +“Ulu-lu-lu-lu!” squealed the Goorkhas, and came down with a joyful +clicking of kukris--those vicious Goorkha knives. + +On the right there was no rush. The Highlanders, cannily commending +their souls to God (for it matters as much to a dead man whether he +has been shot in a Border scuffle or at Waterloo), opened out and fired +according to their custom, that is to say without heat and without +intervals, while the screw-guns, having disposed of the impertinent mud +fort aforementioned, dropped shell after shell into the clusters round +the flickering green standards on the heights. + +“Charrging is an unfortunate necessity,” murmured the Colour-Sergeant +of the right company of the Highlanders. “It makes the men sweer so, but +I am thinkin' that it will come to a charrge if these black devils stand +much longer. Stewarrt, man, you're firing into the eye of the sun, and +he'll not take any harm for Government ammuneetion. A foot lower and a +great deal slower! What are the English doing? They're very quiet, there +in the center. Running again?” + +The English were not running. They were hacking and hewing and stabbing, +for though one white man is seldom physically a match for an Afghan in +a sheepskin or wadded coat, yet, through the pressure of many white +men behind, and a certain thirst for revenge in his heart, he becomes +capable of doing much with both ends of his rifle. The Fore and Aft held +their fire till one bullet could drive through five or six men, and the +front of the Afghan force gave on the volley. They then selected +their men, and slew them with deep gasps and short hacking coughs, and +groanings of leather belts against strained bodies, and realised for the +first time that an Afghan attacked is far less formidable than an Afghan +attacking; which fact old soldiers might have told them. + +But they had no old soldiers in their ranks. + +The Goorkhas' stall at the bazar was the noisiest, for the men were +engaged--to a nasty noise as of beef being cut on the block--with the +kukri, which they preferred to the bayonet; well knowing how the Afghan +hates the half-moon blade. + +As the Afghans wavered, the green standards on the mountain moved down +to assist them in a last rally. This was unwise. The Lancers, chafing in +the right gorge, had thrice despatched their only subaltern as galloper +to report on the progress of affairs. On the third occasion he returned, +with a bullet-graze on his knee, swearing strange oaths in Hindustani, +and saying that all things were ready. So that squadron swung round the +right of the Highlanders with a wicked whistling of wind in the pennons +of its lances, and fell upon the remnant just when, according to all the +rules of war, it should have waited for the foe to show more signs of +wavering. + +But it was a dainty charge, deftly delivered, and it ended by the +Cavalry finding itself at the head of the pass by which the Afghans +intended to retreat; and down the track that the lances had made +streamed two companies of the Highlanders, which was never intended by +the Brigadier. The new development was successful. It detached the enemy +from his base as a sponge is torn from a rock, and left him ringed about +with fire in that pitiless plain. And as a sponge is chased round the +bath-tub by the hand of the bather, so were the Afghans chased till they +broke into little detachments much more difficult to dispose of than +large masses. + +“See!” quoth the Brigadier. “Everything has come as I arranged. We've +cut their base, and now we'll bucket 'em to pieces.” + +A direct hammering was all that the Brigadier had dared to hope for, +considering the size of the force at his disposal; but men who stand or +fall by the errors of their opponents may be forgiven for turning Chance +into Design. The bucketing went forward merrily. The Afghan forces were +upon the run--the run of wearied wolves who snarl and bite over their +shoulders. The red lances dipped by twos and threes, and, with a shriek, +uprose the lance-butt, like a spar on a stormy sea, as the trooper +cantering forward cleared his point. The Lancers kept between their prey +and the steep hills, for all who could were trying to escape from the +valley of death. The Highlanders gave the fugitives two hundred yards' +law, and then brought them down, gasping and choking ere they could +reach the protection of the boulders above. The Goorkhas followed suit; +but the Fore and Aft were killing on their own account, for they had +penned a mass of men between their bayonets and a wall of rock, and the +flash of the rifles was lighting the wadded coats. + +“We cannot hold them, Captain Sahib!” panted a Ressaidar of Lancers. +“Let us try the carbine. The lance is good, but it wastes time.” + +They tried the carbine, and still the enemy melted away--fled up the +hills by hundreds when there were only twenty bullets to stop them. +On the heights the screw-guns ceased firing--they had run out of +ammunition--and the Brigadier groaned, for the musketry fire could not +sufficiently smash the retreat. Long before the last volleys were fired, +the doolies were out in force looking for the wounded. The battle was +over, and, but for want of fresh troops, the Afghans would have been +wiped off the earth. As it was, they counted their dead by hundreds, and +nowhere were the dead thicker than in the track of the Fore and Aft. + +But the Regiment did not cheer with the Highlanders, nor did they dance +uncouth dances with the Goorkhas among the dead. They looked under their +brows at the Colonel as they leaned upon their rifles and panted. + +“Get back to camp, you. Haven't you disgraced yourself enough for one +day! Go and look to the wounded. It's all you're fit for,” said the +Colonel. Yet for the past hour the Fore and Aft had been doing all that +mortal commander could expect. They had lost heavily because they did +not know how to set about their business with proper skill, but they had +borne themselves gallantly, and this was their reward. + +A young and sprightly Colour-Sergeant, who had begun to imagine himself +a hero, offered his water-bottle to a Highlander whose tongue was black +with thirst. “I drink with no cowards,” answered the youngster huskily, +and, turning to a Goorkha, said, “Hya, Johnny! Drink water got it?” The +Goorkha grinned and passed his bottle. The Fore and Aft said no word. + +They went back to camp when the field of strife had been a little mopped +up and made presentable, and the Brigadier, who saw himself a Knight +in three months, was the only soul who was complimentary to them. The +Colonel was heartbroken, and the officers were savage and sullen. + +“Well,” said the Brigadier, “they are young troops, of course, and it +was not unnatural that they should retire in disorder for a bit.” + +“Oh, my only Aunt Maria!” murmured a junior Staff Officer. “Retire in +disorder! It was a bally run!” + +“But they came again, as we all know,” cooed the Brigadier, the +Colonel's ashy-white face before him, “and they behaved as well as could +possibly be expected. Behaved beautifully, indeed. I was watching them. +It's not a matter to take to heart, Colonel. As some German General said +of his men, they wanted to be shooted over a little, that was all.” To +himself he said--“Now they're blooded I can give 'em responsible work. +It's as well that they got what they did. 'Teach 'em more than half a +dozen rifle flirtations, that will--later--run alone and bite. Poor old +Colonel, though.” + +All that afternoon the heliograph winked and flickered on the hills, +striving to tell the good news to a mountain forty miles away And in +the evening there arrived, dusty, sweating, and sore, a misguided +Correspondent who had gone out to assist at a trumpery village-burning, +and who had read off the message from afar, cursing his luck the while. + +“Let's have the details somehow--as full as ever you can, please. +It's the first time I've ever been left this campaign,” said the +Correspondent to the Brigadier; and the Brigadier, nothing loth, told +him how an Army of Communication had been crumpled up, destroyed, and +all but annihilated by the craft, strategy, wisdom, and foresight of the +Brigadier. + +But some say, and among these be the Goorkhas who watched on the +hillside, that that battle was won by Jakin and Lew, whose little +bodies were borne up just in time to fit two gaps at the head of the big +ditch-grave for the dead under the heights of Jagai. + + + + +JUDSON AND THE EMPIRE + + Gloriana! The Don may attack us + Whenever his stomach be fain; + He must reach us before he can rack us... + And where are the galleons of Spain? + + Dobson. + + +One of the many beauties of a democracy is its almost superhuman skill +in developing troubles with other countries and finding its honour +abraded in the process. A true democracy has a large contempt for all +other lands that are governed by Kings and Queens and Emperors, and +knows little and thinks less of their internal affairs. All it regards +is its own dignity, which is its King, Queen, and Knave. So, sooner or +later, an international difference ends in the common people, who have +no dignity, shouting the common abuse of the street, which also has no +dignity, across the seas in order to vindicate their own dignity. The +consequences may or may not be war, but the chances do not favour peace. + +An advantage in living in a civilised land which is really governed lies +in the fact that all the Kings and Queens and Emperors of the continent +are closely related by blood or marriage--are, in fact, one large +family. A wise head of them knows that what appears to be a studied +insult may be no more than some man's indigestion or woman's +indisposition to be treated as such, and explained in quiet talk. Again, +a popular demonstration, headed by King and Court, may mean nothing +more than that so-and-so's people are out of hand for the minute. When +a horse falls to kicking in a hunt-crowd at a gate, the rider does not +dismount, but puts his open hand behind him, and the others draw aside. +It is so with the rulers of men. In the old days they cured their own +and their people's bad temper with fire and slaughter; but now that +the fire is so long of range and the slaughter so large, they do other +things, and few among their people guess how much they owe in mere +life and money to what the slang of the minute calls “puppets” and +“luxuries.” + +Once upon a time there was a little Power, the half-bankrupt wreck of a +once great empire, that lost its temper with England, the whipping-boy +of all the world, and behaved, as every one knows, most scandalously. +But it is not generally known that that Power fought a pitched battle +with England and won a glorious victory. The trouble began with the +people. Their own misfortunes had been many, and for private rage it +is always refreshing to find a vent in public swearing. Their national +vanity had been deeply injured, and they thought of their ancient +glories and the days when their fleets had first rounded the Cape of +Storms, and their own newspapers called upon Camoens and urged them to +extravagances. It was the gross, smooth, sleek, lying England that was +checking their career of colonial expansion. They assumed at once that +their ruler was in league with that country, and consequently they, +his people, would forthwith become a Republic and colonially expand +themselves as a free people should. This made plain, the people threw +stones at the English Consuls and spat at English ladies, and cut off +drunken sailors of our fleet in their ports and hammered them with +oars, and made things very unpleasant for tourists at their customs, and +threatened awful deaths to the consumptive invalids at Madeira, while +the junior officers of the Army drank fruit-extracts and entered into +blood-curdling conspiracies against their monarch, all with the object +of being a Republic. Now the history of all the South American Republics +shows that it is not good that Southern Europeans should be also +Republicans. They glide too quickly into military despotism; and the +propping of men against walls and shooting them in detachments can be +arranged much more economically and with less effect on the death-rate +by a hide-bound monarchy. Still the performances of the Power as +represented by its people were extremely inconvenient. It was the +kicking horse in the crowd, and probably the rider explained that he +could not check it. The people enjoyed all the glory of war with none +of the risks, and the tourists who were stoned in their travels returned +stolidly to England and told the “Times” that the police arrangements of +foreign towns were defective. + +This then was the state of affairs north of the Line. South it was more +strained, for there the Powers were at direct issue: England, unable to +go back because of the pressure of adventurous children behind her, +and the actions of far-away adventurers who would not come to heel, +but offering to buy out her rival; and the other Power, lacking men or +money, stiff in the conviction that three hundred years of slave-holding +and intermingling with the nearest natives gave an inalienable right to +hold slaves and issue half-castes to all eternity. They had built no +roads. Their towns were rotting under their hands; they had no trade +worth the freight of a crazy steamer, and their sovereignty ran almost +one musket-shot inland when things were peaceful. For these very reasons +they raged all the more, and the things that they said and wrote about +the manners and customs of the English would have driven a younger +nation to the guns with a long red bill for wounded honour. + +It was then that Fate sent down in a twin-screw shallow-draft gunboat, +designed for the defence of rivers, of some two hundred and seventy +tons' displacement, Lieutenant Harrison Edward Judson, to be known for +the future as Bai-Jove-Judson. His type of craft looked exactly like +a flat-iron with a match stuck up in the middle; it drew five feet of +water or less, carried a four-inch gun forward, which was trained by the +ship, and, on account of its persistent rolling, was to live in three +degrees worse than a torpedo-boat. When Judson was appointed to take +charge of the thing on her little trip of six or seven thousand miles +southward, his first remark as he went to look her over in dock was, +“Bai Jove, that topmast wants staying forward!” The topmast was a stick +about as thick as a clothes-prop, but the flat-iron was Judson's first +command, and he would not have exchanged his position for second post on +the “Anson” or the “Howe”. He navigated her, under convoy, tenderly and +lovingly to the Cape (the story of the topmast came with him), and he +was so absurdly in love with his wallowing wash-tub when he reported +himself, that the Admiral of the station thought it would be a pity to +kill a new man on her, and allowed Judson to continue in his unenvied +rule. + +The Admiral visited her once in Simon's Bay, and she was bad, even for +a flat-iron gunboat strictly designed for river and harbour defence. She +sweated clammy drops of dew between decks in spite of a preparation of +powdered cork that was sprinkled over her inside paint. She rolled in +the long Cape swell like a buoy; her foc's'le was a dog-kennel; Judson's +cabin was practically under the water-line; not one of her dead-bights +could ever be opened; and her compasses, thanks to the influence of +the four-inch gun, were a curiosity even among Admiralty compasses. But +Bai-Jove-Judson was radiant and enthusiastic. He had even contrived to +fill Mr. Davies, the second-class engine-room artificer, who was +his chief engineer, with the glow of his passion. The Admiral, who +remembered his own first command, when pride forbade him to slacken off +a single rope on a dewy night, and he had racked his rigging to pieces +in consequence, looked at the flat-iron keenly. Her fenders were done +all over with white sennit which was truly white; her big gun was +varnished with a better composition than the Admiralty allowed; the +spare sights were cased as carefully as the chronometers; the chocks for +spare spars, two of them, were made of four-inch Burma teak carved with +dragons' heads that was one result of Bai-Jove-Judson's experiences +with the Naval Brigade in the Burmese war; the bow-anchor was varnished +instead of being painted, and there were charts more than the Admiralty +scale supplied. The Admiral was well pleased, for he loved a ship's +husband--a man who had a little money of his own and was willing to +spend it on his command. Judson looked at him hopefully. He was only a +Junior Navigating Lieutenant under eight years' standing. He might be +kept in Simon's Bay for six months, and his ship at sea was his delight. +The dream of his heart was to enliven her dismal official gray with +a line of gold-leaf and perhaps a little scroll-work at her blunt +barge-like bows. + +“There's nothing like a first command, is there?” said the Admiral, +reading his thoughts. “You seem to have rather queer compasses, though. +Better get them adjusted.” + +“It's no use, sir,” said Judson. “The gun would throw out the Pole +itself. But--but I've got the hang of most of their weaknesses.” + +“Will you be good enough to lay that gun over thirty degrees, please?” + The gun was put over. Round and round and round went the needle merrily, +and the Admiral whistled. + +“You must have kept close to your convoy?” + +“Saw her twice between here and Madeira, sir,” said Judson with a flush, +for he resented the slur on his seamanship. “It's--it's a little out of +hand, now, but she'll settle down after a while.” + +The Admiral went over the side, according to the rules of the Service, +but the Staff-Captain must have told the other men of the squadron in +Simon's Bay, for they one and all made light of the flat-iron for many +days. “What can you shake out of her, Judson?” said the Lieutenant of +the “Mongoose”, a real white-painted, ram-bow gunboat with quick-firing +guns, as he came into the upper verandah of the little naval Club +overlooking the dockyard one hot afternoon. It is in that Club as the +captains come and go that you hear all the gossip of all the Seven Seas. + +“Ten point four,” said Bai-Jove-Judson. + +“Ah! That was on her trial trip. She's too deep by the head now. I told +you staying that topmast would throw her out of trim.” + +“You leave my top-hamper alone,” said Judson, for the joke was beginning +to pall on him. + +“Oh, my soul! Listen to him. Juddy's top-hamper! Keate, have you heard +of the flat-iron's top-hamper? You're to leave it alone. Commodore +Judson's feelings are hurt.” + +Keate was the Torpedo Lieutenant of the big “Vortigern”, and he despised +small things. “His top-hamper,” said he slowly. “Oh, ah yes, of course. +Juddy, there's a shoal of mullet in the bay, and I think they're foul of +your screws. Better go down, or they'll carry away something.” + +“I don't let things carry away as a rule. You see I've no Torpedo +Lieutenant on board, thank God!” + +Keate within the past week had so managed to bungle the slinging in of +a small torpedo-boat on the “Vortigern”, that the boat had broken the +crutches in which she rested, and was herself being repaired in the +dockyard under the Club windows. + +“One for you, Keate. Never mind, Juddy; you're hereby appointed +dockyard-tender for the next three years, and if you're very good and +there's no sea on, you shall take me round the harbour. Waitabeechee, +Commodore. What'll you take? Vanderhum for the 'Cook and the captain +bold, And the mate o' the Nancy brig, And the bo'sun tight' (Juddy, put +that cue down or I'll put you under arrest for insulting the lieutenant +of the real ship) 'And the midshipmite, And the crew of the captain's +gig.” + +By this time Judson had pinned him in a corner, and was prodding him +with the half-butt. The Admiral's Secretary entered, and saw the scuffle +from afar. + +“Ouch! Juddy, I apologise. Take that--er topmast of yours away! Here's +the man with the bow-string. I wish I were a staff-captain instead of +a bloody lootenant. Sperril sleeps below every night. That's what makes +Sperril tumble home from the waist uppards. Sperril, I defy you to touch +me. I'm under orders for Zanzibar. Probably I shall annex it!” + +“Judson, the Admiral wants to see you!” said the Staff-Captain, +disregarding the scoffer of the “Mongoose”. + +“I told you you'd be a dockyard-tender yet, Juddy. A side of fresh +beef to-morrow and three dozen snapper on ice. On ice, you understand, +Juddy?” + +Bai-Jove-Judson and the Staff-Captain went out together. + +“Now, what does the Admiral want with Judson?” said Keate from the bar. + +“Don't know. Juddy's a damned good fellow, though. I wish to goodness he +was on the Mongoose with us.” + +The Lieutenant of the “Mongoose” dropped into a chair and read the +mail papers for an hour. Then he saw Bai-Jove-Judson in the street and +shouted to him. Judson's eyes were very bright, and his figure was held +very straight, and he moved joyously. Except for the Lieutenant of the +“Mongoose”, the Club was empty. + +“Juddy, there will be a beautiful row,” said that young man when he +had heard the news delivered in an undertone. “You'll probably have to +fight, and yet I can't see what the Admiral's thinking of to--” + +“My orders are not to fight under any circumstances,” said Judson. + +“Go-look-see? That all? When do you go?” + +“To-night if I can. I must go down and see about things. I say, I may +want a few men for the day.” + +“Anything on the 'Mongoose' is at your service. There's my gig come in +now. I know that coast, dead, drunk, or asleep, and you'll need all the +knowledge you can get. If it had only been us two together! Come over +with me!” + +For one whole hour Judson remained closeted in the stern cabin of the +“Mongoose”, listening, poring over chart upon chart and taking notes, +and for an hour the marine at the door heard nothing but things like +these: “Now you'll have to put in here if there's any sea on. That +current is ridiculously under-estimated, and it sets west at this season +of the year, remember. Their boats never come south of this, see? So +it's no good looking out for them.” And so on and so forth, while +Judson lay at length on the locker by the three-pounder, and smoked and +absorbed it all. + +Next morning there was no flat-iron in Simon's Bay, only a little smudge +of smoke off Cape Hangklip to show that Mr. Davies, the second-class +engine-room artificer, was giving her all she could carry. At the +Admiral's house, the ancient and retired bo'sun, who had seen many +Admirals come and go, brought out his paint and brushes and gave a new +coat of pure raw pea-green to the two big cannon-balls that stood one +on each side of the Admiral's entrance-gate. He felt dimly that great +events were stirring. + +And the flat-iron, constructed, as has been before said, solely for the +defense of rivers, met the great roll off Cape Agulhas and was swept +from end to end and sat upon her twin-screws and leaped as gracefully +as a cow in a bog from one sea to another, till Mr. Davies began to fear +for the safety of his engines, and the Kroo boys that made the majority +of the crew were deathly sick. She ran along a very badly-lighted coast, +past bays that were no bays, where ugly flat-topped rocks lay almost +level with the water, and very many extraordinary things happened that +have nothing to do with the story, but they were all duly logged by +Bai-Jove-Judson. + +At last the coast changed and grew green and low and exceedingly muddy, +and there were broad rivers whose bars were little islands standing +three or four miles out at sea, and Bai-Jove-Judson hugged the +shore more closely than ever, remembering what the Lieutenant of the +“Mongoose” had told him. Then he found a river full of the smell of +fever and mud, with green stuff growing far into its waters, and a +current that made the flatiron gasp and grunt. + +“We will turn up here,” said Bai-Jove-Judson, and they turned up +accordingly; Mr. Davies wondering what in the world it all meant, and +the Kroo boys grinning. Bai-Jove-Judson went forward to the bows and +meditated, staring through the muddy waters. After six hours of rooting +through this desolation at an average rate of five miles an hour, his +eyes were cheered by the sight of one white buoy in the coffee-hued +mid-stream. The flat-iron crept up to it cautiously, and a leadsman took +soundings all around it from a dinghy, while Bai-Jove-Judson smoked and +thought, with his head on one side. + +“About seven feet, isn't there?” said he. “That must be the tail end of +the shoal. There's four fathom in the fairway. Knock that buoy down with +axes. I don't think it's picturesque somehow.” The Kroo men hacked the +wooden sides to pieces in three minutes, and the mooring-chain sank +with the lasst splinters of wood. Bai-Jove Judson laid the flat-iron +carefully over the site, while Mr. Davies watched, biting his nails +nervously. + +“Can you back her against this current?” said Bai-Jove-Judson. Mr. +Davies could, inch by inch, but only inch by inch, and Bai-Jove-Judson +sat in the bows and gazed at various things on the bank as they came +into line or opened out. The flatiron dropped down over the tail of +the shoal, exactly where the buoy had been, and backed once before +Bai-Jove-Judson was satisfied. Then they went up stream for half an +hour, put into shoal water by the bank and waited, with a slip-rope on +the anchor. + +“Seems to me,” said Mr. Davies deferentially, “like as if I heard some +one a-firing off at intervals, so to say.” + +There was beyond doubt a dull mutter in the air. “Seems to me,” said +Bai-Jove-Judson, “as if I heard a screw. Stand by to slip her moorings.” + +Another ten minutes passed and the beat of engines grew plainer. +Then round the bend of the river came a remarkably prettily built +white-painted gunboat with a blue and white flag bearing a red boss in +the centre. + +“Unshackle abaft the windlass! Stream both buoys! Easy, astern. Let go, +all!” The slip-rope flew out, the two buoys bobbed in the water to mark +where anchor and cable had been left, and the flat-iron waddled out +into midstream with the white ensign at her one mast-head. + +“Give her all you can. That thing has the legs of us,” said Judson. “And +down we go!” + +“It's war--bloody war. He's going to fire,” said Mr. Davies, looking up +through the engine-room hatch. + +The white gunboat without a word of explanation fired three guns at +the flat-iron, cutting the trees on the banks into green chips. +Bai-Jove-Judson was at the wheel, and Mr. Davies and the current helped +the boat to an almost respectable degree of speed. + +It was an exciting chase, but it did not last for more than five +minutes. The white gunboat fired again, and Mr. Davies in his +engine-room gave a wild shout. + +“What's the matter? Hit?” said Bai-Jove-Judson. + +“No, I've just seized of your roos-de-gare. Beg y' pardon, sir.” + +“Right O! Just the half a fraction of a point more.” The wheel turned +under the steady hand, as Bai-Jove-Judson watched his marks on the bank +coming in line swiftly as troops anxious to aid. The flat-iron smelt the +shoal water under her, checked for an instant, and went on. “Now we're +over. Come along, you thieves, there!” + +The white gunboat, too hurried even to fire, was storming in the wake +of the flat-iron, steering as she steered. This was unfortunate, because +the lighter craft was dead over the missing buoy. + +“What you do here?” shouted a voice from the bows. + +“I'm going on. Hold tight. Now you're arranged for!” + +There was a crash and a clatter as the white gunboat's nose took the +shoal, and the brown mud boiled up in oozy circles under her forefoot. +Then the current caught her stem by the starboard side and drove her +broadside on to the shoal, slowly and gracefully. There she heeled at an +undignified angle, and her crew yelled aloud. + +“Neat! Oh, damn neat!” quoth Mr. Davies, dancing on the engine-room +plates, while the Kroo stokers grinned. + +The flat-iron turned up-stream again, and passed under the hove-up +starboard side of the white gunboat, to be received with howls and +imprecations in a strange tongue. The stranded boat, exposed even to her +lower strakes, was as defence-less as a turtle on its back, without the +advantage of the turtle's plating. And the one big blunt gun in the bows +of the flat-iron was unpleasantly near. + +But the captain was valiant and swore mightily. Bai-Jove-Judson took no +sort of notice. His business was to go up the river. + +“We will come in a flotilla of boats and ecrazer your vile tricks,” said +the captain with language that need not be published. + +Then said Bai-Jove-Judson, who was a linguist: “You stay o where you are +o, or I'll leave a hole-o in your bottom o that will make you much os +perforatados.” + +There was a great deal of mixed language in reply, but Bai-Jove-Judson +was out of hearing in a few minutes, and Mr. Davies, himself a man of +few words, confided to one of his subordinates that Lieutenant Judson +was “a most remarkable prompt officer in a way of putting it.” + +For two hours the flat-iron pawed madly through the muddy water, and +that which had been at first a mutter became a distinct rumble. + +“Was war declared?” said Mr. Davies, and Bai-Jove-Judson laughed. “Then, +damn his eyes, he might have spoilt my pretty little engines. There's +war up there, though.” + +The next bend brought them full in sight of a small but lively village, +built round a whitewashed mud house of some pretensions. There were +scores and scores of saddle-coloured soldiery on duty, white uniforms +running to and fro and shouting round a man in a litter, and on a gentle +slope that ran inland for four or five miles something like a brisk +battle was raging round a rude stockade. A smell of unburied carcasses +floated through the air and vexed the sensitive nose of Mr. Davies, who +spat over the side. + +“I want to get this gun on that house,” said Bai-Jove-Judson, indicating +the superior dwelling over whose flat roof floated the blue and white +flag. The little twin screws kicked up the water exactly as a hen's +legs kick in the dust before she settles down to a bath. The little boat +moved un easily from left to right, backed, yawed again, went ahead, and +at last the gray blunt gun's nose was held as straight as a rifle-barrel +on the mark indicated. Then Mr. Davies allowed the whistle to speak as +it is not allowed to speak in Her Majesty's service on account of waste +of steam. The soldiery of the village gathered into knots and groups +and bunches, and the firing up the hill ceased, and every one except the +crew of the flatiron yelled aloud. Something like an English cheer came +down wind. + +“Our chaps in mischief for sure, probably,” said Mr. Davies. “They must +have declared war weeks ago, in a kind of way, seems to me.” + +“Hold her steady, you son of a soldier!” shouted Bai-Jove-Judson, as the +muzzle fell off the white house. + +Something rang as loudly as a ship's bell on the forward plates of the +flat-iron, something spluttered in the water, and another thing cut a +groove in the deck planking an inch in front of Bai-Jove-Judson's left +foot. The saddle-coloured soldiery were firing as the mood took them, +and the man in the litter waved a shining sword. The muzzle of the big +gun kicked down a fraction as it was laid on the mud wall at the bottom +of the house garden. Ten pounds of gunpowder shut up in a hundred pounds +of metal was its charge. Three or four yards of the mud wall jumped up a +little, as a man jumps when he is caught in the small of the back with +a knee-cap, and then fell forward, spreading fan-wise in the fall. The +soldiery fired no more that day, and Judson saw an old black woman climb +to the flat roof of the house. She fumbled for a time with the flag +halliards, then finding that they were jammed, took off her one garment, +which happened to be an Isabella-coloured petticoat, and waved it +impatiently. The man in the litter flourished a white handkerchief, and +Bai-Jove-Judson grinned. “Now we'll give 'em one up the hill. Round +with her, Mr. Davies. Curse the man who invented those floating gun +platforms. Where can I pitch in a notice without slaying one of those +little devils?” + +The side of the slope was speckled with men returning in a disorderly +fashion to the river front. Behind them marched a small but very compact +body of men who had filed out of the stockade. These last dragged +quick-firing guns with them. + +“Bai Jove, it's a regular army. I wonder whose,” said Bai-Jove-Judson, +and he waited developments. The descending troops met and mixed with the +troops in the village, and, with the litter in the centre, crowded down +to the river, till the men with the quick-firing guns came up behind +them. Then they divided left and right and the detachment marched +through. + +“Heave these damned things over!” said the leader of the party, and one +after another ten little gatlings splashed into the muddy water. The +flatiron lay close to the bank. + +“When you're quite done,” said Bai-Jove-Judson politely, “would you mind +telling me what's the matter? I'm in charge here.” + +“We're the Pioneers of the General Development Company,” said the +leader. “These little bounders have been hammering us in lager for +twelve hours, and we're getting rid of their gatlings. Had to climb out +and take them; but they've snaffled the lock-actions. Glad to see you.” + +“Any one hurt?” + +“No one killed exactly, but we're very dry.” + +“Can you hold your men?” + +The man turned round and looked at his command with a grin. There were +seventy of them, all dusty and unkempt. + +“We sha'n't sack this ash-bin, if that's what you mean. We're mostly +gentlemen here, though we don't look it.” + +“All right. Send the head of this post, or fort, or village, or whatever +it is, aboard, and make what arrangements you can for your men.” + +“We'll find some barrack accommodation somewhere. Hullo! You in the +litter there, go aboard the gunboat.” The command wheeled round, pushed +through the dislocated soldiery, and began to search through the village +for spare huts. + +The little man in the litter came aboard smiling nervously. He was in +the fullest of full uniform, with many yards of gold lace and dangling +chains. Also he wore very large spurs; the nearest horse being not more +than four hundred miles away. “My children,” said he, facing the silent +soldiery, “lay aside your arms.” + +Most of the men had dropped them already and were sitting down to smoke. +“Let nothing,” he added in his own tongue, “tempt you to kill these who +have sought your protection.” + +“Now,” said Bai-Jove-Judson, on whom the last remark was lost, “will +you have the goodness to explain what the deuce you mean by all this +nonsense?” + +“It was of a necessitate,” said the little man. “The operations of war +are unconformible. I am the Governor and I operate Captain. Be'old my +little sword.” + +“Confound your little sword, sir. I don't want it. You've fired on our +flag. You've been firing at our people here for a week, and I've been +fired at coming up the river.” + +“Ah! The 'Guadala'. She have misconstrued you for a slaver possibly. How +are the 'Guadala'?” + +“Mistook a ship of Her Majesty's navy for a slaver! You mistake any +craft for a slaver! Bai Jove, sir, I've a good mind to hang you at the +yard-arm!” + +There was nothing nearer that terrible spar than the walking-stick in +the rack of Judson's cabin. The Governor looked at the one mast and +smiled a deprecating smile. + +“The position is embarrassment,” he said. “Captain, do you think those +illustrious traders burn my capital? My people will give them beer.” + +“Never mind the traders, I want an explanation.” + +“Hum! There are popular uprising in Europe, Captain--in my country.” His +eye wandered aimlessly round the horizon. + +“What has that to do with--” + +“Captain, you are very young. There is still uproariment. But!”--here +he slapped his chest till his epaulets jingled--“I am loyalist to pits +of all my stomachs.” + +“Go on,” said Judson, and his mouth quivered. + +“An order arrive to me to establish a custom-houses here, and to collect +of the taximent from the traders when she are come here necessarily. +That was on account of political understandings with your country and +mine. But on that arrangement there was no money also. Not one damn +little cowrie. I desire damnably to extend all commercial things, and +why? I am loyalist and there is rebellion--yes, I tell you--Republics +in my country for to just begin. You do not believe? See some time how +it exist. I cannot make this custom-houses and pay the so high-paid +officials. The people too in my country they say the king she has +no regardance into Honour of her nation. He throw away +everything--Gladstone her all, you say, pay?” + +“Yes, that's what we say,” said Judson with a grin. + +“Therefore they say, let us be Republics on hot cakes. But I--I am +loyalist to all my hands' ends. Captain, once I was attache at Mexico. +I say the Republics are no good. The peoples have her stomach high. They +desire--they desire--a course for the bills.” + +“What on earth is that?” + +“The cock-fight for pay at the gate. You give something, pay for see +bloody row. Do I make its comprehension?” + +“A run for their money--is that what you mean? Gad, you're sporting, +Governor.” + +“So I say. I am loyalist, too.” He smiled more easily. “Now how can +anything do herself for the customs-houses; but when the Company's mens +she arrives, then a cock-fight for pay at gate that is quite correct. My +army he says it will Republic and shoot me off upon walls if I have +not give her blood. An army, Captain, are terrible in her +angries--especialment when she are not paid. I know, too,” here he laid +his hand on Judson's shoulder, “I know too we are old friends. Yes! +Badajos, Almeida, Fuentes d'Onor--time ever since; and a little, little +cock-fight for pay at gate that is good for my king. More sit her tight +on throne behind, you see? Now,” he waved his hand round the decayed +village, “I say to my armies, Fight! Fight the Company's men when she +come, but fight not so very strong that you are any deads. It is all +in the raporta that I send. But you understand, Captain, we are good +friends all the time. Ah! Ciudad Rodrigo, you remember? No? Perhaps your +father, then? So you see no one are deads, and we fight a fight, and +it is all in the raporta, to please the people in our country, and my +armies they do not put me against the walls. You see?” + +“Yes; but the 'Guadala'. She fired on us. Was that part of your game, my +joker?” + +“The 'Guadala'. Ah! No, I think not. Her captain he is too big fool. But +I think she have gone down the coast. Those your gunboats poke her nose +and shove her oar in every place. How is 'Guadala'?” + +“On a shoal. Stuck till I take her off.” “There are any deads?” + +“No.” + +The Governor drew a breath of deep relief. “There are no deads here. So +you see none are deads anywhere, and nothing is done. Captain, you talk +to the Company's mens. I think they are not pleased.” + +“Naturally.” + +“They have no sense. I thought to go backwards again they would. I leave +her stockade alone all night to let them out, but they stay and come +facewards to me, not backwards. They did not know we must conquer much +in all these battles, or the king, he is kicked off her throne. Now we +have won this battle--this great battle,” he waved his arms abroad, +“and I think you will say so that we have won, Captain. You are loyalist +also. You would not disturb to the peaceful Europe? Captain, I tell you +this. Your Queen she know too. She would not fight her cousins. It is +a--a hand-up thing.” + +“What?” + +“Hand-up thing. Jobe you put. How you say?” + +“Put-up job?” + +“Yes. Put-up job. Who is hurt? We win. You lose. All righta?” + +Bai-Jove-Judson had been exploding at intervals for the last five +minutes. Here he broke down completely and roared aloud. + +“But look here, Governor,” he said at last, “I've got to think of other +things than your riots in Europe. You've fired on our flag.” + +“Captain, if you are me, you would have done how? And also, and also,” + he drew himself up to his full height, “we are both brave men of bravest +countries. Our honour is the honour of our King,” here he uncovered, +“and of our Queen,” here he bowed low. “Now, Captain, you shall shell my +palace and I shall be your prisoner.” + +“Skittles!” said Bai-Jove-Judson. “I can't shell that old hencoop.” + +“Then come to dinner. Madeira, she are still to us, and I have of the +best she manufac.” + +He skipped over the side beaming, and Bai-Jove-Judson went into the +cabin to laugh his laugh out. When he had recovered a little he sent Mr. +Davies to the head of the Pioneers, the dusty man with the gatlings, and +the troops who had abandoned the pursuit of arms watched the disgraceful +spectacle of two men reeling with laughter on the quarter-deck of a +gunboat. + +“I'll put my men to build him a custom-house,” said the head of the +Pioneers, gasping. “We'll make him one decent road at least. That +Governor ought to be knighted. I'm glad now that we didn't fight 'em in +the open, or we'd have killed some of them. So he's won great battles, +has he? Give him the compliments of the victims, and tell him I'm coming +to dinner. You haven't such a thing as a dress-suit, have you? I haven't +seen one for six months.” + +That evening there was a dinner in the village--a general and +enthusiastic dinner, whose head was in the Governor's house, and whose +tail threshed at large throughout all the streets. The Madeira was +everything that the Governor had said, and more, and it was tested +against two or three bottles of Bai-Jove-Judson's best Vanderhum, which +is Cape brandy ten years in the bottle, flavoured with orange-peel and +spices. Before the coffee was removed (by the lady who had made the flag +of truce) the Governor had sold the whole of his governorship and its +appurtenances, once to Bai-Jove-Judson for services rendered by Judson's +grandfather in the Peninsular War, and once to the head of the Pioneers, +in consideration of that gentleman's good friendship. After the +negotiation he retreated for a while into an inner apartment, and there +evolved a true and complete account of the defeat of the British +arms, which he read with his cocked hat over one eye to Judson and his +companion. It was Judson who suggested the sinking of the flat-iron with +all hands, and the head of the Pioneers who supplied the list of killed +and wounded (not more than two hundred) in his command. + +“Gentlemen,” said the Governor from under his cocked hat, “the peace of +Europe are saved by this raporta. You shall all be Knights of the Golden +Hide. She shall go by the 'Guadala'.” + +“Great Heavens!” said Bai-Jove Judson, flushed but composed, “that +reminds me I've left that boat stuck on her broadside down the river. +I must go down and soothe the commandante. He'll be blue with rage. +Governor, let us go a sail on the river to cool our heads. A picnic, you +understand.” + +“Ya--as, everything I understand. Ho! A picnica! You are all my +prisoner, but I am good gaoler. We shall picnic on the river, and we +shall take all the girls. Come on, my prisoners.” + +“I do hope,” said the head of the Pioneers, staring from the verandah +into the roaring village, “that my chaps won't set the town alight by +accident. Hullo! Hullo! A guard of honour for His Excellency the most +illustrious Governor!” + +Some thirty men answered the call, made a swaying line upon a more +swaying course, and bore the Governor most swayingly of all high in the +arms as they staggered down to the river. And the song that they sang +bade them, “Swing, swing together their body between their knees”; and +they obeyed the words of the song faithfully, except that they were +anything but “steady from stroke to bow.” His Excellency the Governor +slept on his uneasy litter, and did not wake when the chorus dropped him +on the deck of the flat-iron. + +“Good-night and good-bye,” said the head of the Pioneers to Judson; “I'd +give you my card if I had it, but I'm so damned drunk I hardly know +my own club. Oh, yes! It's the Travellers. If ever we meet in Town, +remember me. I must stay here and look after my fellows. We're all right +in the open, now. I s'pose you'll return the Governor some time. This is +a political crisis. Good-night.” + +The flat-iron went down stream through the dark. The Governor slept on +deck, and Judson took the wheel, but how he steered, and why he did +not run into each bank many times, that officer does not remember. Mr. +Davies did not note anything unusual, for there are two ways of taking +too much, and Judson was only ward-room, not foc's'le drunk. As the +night grew colder the Governor woke up, and expressed a desire for +whiskey and soda. When that came they were nearly abreast of the +stranded “Guadala”, and His Excellency saluted the flag that he could +not see with loyal and patriotic strains. + +“They do not see. They do not hear,” he cried. “Ten thousand saints! +They sleep, and I have won battles! Ha!” + +He started forward to the gun, which, very naturally, was loaded, pulled +the lanyard, and woke the dead night with the roar of the full charge +behind a common shell. That shell mercifully just missed the stern +of the “Guadala”, and burst on the bank. “Now you shall salute your +Governor,” said he, as he heard feet running in all directions within +the iron skin. “Why you demand so base a quarter? I am here with all my +prisoners.” + +In the hurly-burly and the general shriek for mercy his reassurances +were not heard. + +“Captain,” said a grave voice from the ship, “we have surrendered. Is it +the custom of the English to fire on a helpless ship'?” + +“Surrendered! Holy Virgin! I go to cut off all their heads. You shall be +ate by wild ants--flogged and drowned. Throw me a balcony. It is I, +the Governor! You shall never surrender. Judson of my soul, ascend her +insides, and send me a bed, for I am sleepy; but, oh, I will multiple +time kill that captain!” + +“Oh!” said the voice in the darkness, “I begin to comprehend.” And a +rope-ladder was thrown, up which the Governor scrambled, with Judson at +his heels. + +“Now we will enjoy executions,” said the Governor on the deck. “All +these Republicans shall be shot. Little Judson, if I am not drunk, why +are so sloping the boards which do not support?” + +The deck, as I have said, was at a very stiff cant. His Excellency sat +down, slid to leeward, and was asleep again. + +The captain of the “Guadala” bit his moustache furiously, and muttered +in his own tongue: “This land is the father of great villains and +the stepfather of honest men. You see our material, Captain. It is so +everywhere with us. You have killed some of the rats, I hope?” + +“Not a rat,” said Judson genially. + +“That is a pity. If they were dead, our country might send us men; but +our country is dead too, and I am dishonoured on a mud-bank through your +English treachery.” + +“Well, it seems to me that firing on a little tub of our size without +a word of warning, when you know that the countries were at peace, is +treachery enough in a small way.” + +“If one of my guns had touched you, you would have gone to the bottom, +all of you. I would have taken the risk with my Government. By that time +it would have been--” + +“A Republic? So you really did mean fighting on your own hook? You're +rather a dangerous officer to cut loose in a navy like yours. Well, what +are you going to do now?” + +“Stay here. Go away in boats. What does it matter? That drunken cat”--he +pointed to the shadow in which the Governor slept--“is here. I must +take him back to his hole.” + +“Very good. I'll tow you off at daylight if you get steam ready.” + +“Captain, I warn you that as soon as she floats again I will fight you.” + +“Humbug! You'll have lunch with me, and then you'll take the Governor up +the river.” + +The captain was silent for some time. Then he said: “Let us drink. What +must be, must be; and after all we have not forgotten the Peninsula. +You will admit, Captain, that it is bad to be run upon a shoal like a +mud-dredger?” + +“Oh, we'll pull you off before you can say knife. Take care of His +Excellency. I shall try to get a little sleep now.” + +They slept on both ships till the morning, and then the work of towing +off the “Guadala” began. With the help of her own engines, and the +tugging and puffing of the flat-iron, she slid off the mud-bank sideways +into the deep water, the flatiron immediately under her stern, and the +big eye of the four-inch gun almost peering through the window of the +captain's cabin. + +Remorse in the shape of a violent headache had overtaken the Governor. +He was uneasily conscious that he might, perhaps, have exceeded his +powers; and the captain of the “Guadala”, in spite of all his patriotic +sentiments, remembered distinctly that no war had been declared between +the two countries. He did not need the Governor's repeated reminders +that war, serious war, meant a Republic at home, possible supersession +in his command, and much shooting of living men against dead walls. + +“We have satisfied our honour,” said the Governor in confidence. “Our +army is appeased, and the raporta that you take home will show that we +were loyal and brave. That other captain? Bah! he is a boy. He will call +this a--a-. Judson of my soul, how you say this is--all this affairs +which have transpirated between us?” + +Judson was watching the last hawser slipping through the fairlead. +“Call it? Oh, I should call it rather a lark. Now your boat's all right, +Captain. When will you come to lunch?” + +“I told you,” said the Governor, “it would be a larque to him.” + +“Mother of the Saints! then what is his seriousness?” said the captain. +“We shall be happy to come when you please. Indeed, we have no other +choice,” he added bitterly. + +“Not at all,” said Judson, and as he looked at the three or four +shot-blisters on the bows of his boat a brilliant idea took him. “It +is we who are at your mercy. See how His Excellency's guns knocked us +about.” + +“Senior Captain,” said the Governor pityingly, “that is very sad. You +are most injured, and your deck too, it is all shot over. We shall not +be too severe on a beat man, shall we, Captain?” + +“You couldn't spare us a little paint, could you? I'd like to patch up a +little after the--action,” said Judson meditatively, fingering his upper +lip to hide a smile. + +“Our store-room is at your disposition,” said the captain of the +“Guadala”, and his eye brightened; for a few lead splashes on gray paint +make a big show. + +“Mr. Davies, go aboard and see what they have to spare--to spare, +remember. Their spar-colour with a little working up should be just our +freeboard tint.” + +“Oh, yes. I'll spare them,” said Mr. Davies savagely. “I don't +understand this how-d'you-do and damn-your-eyes business coming one atop +of the other in a manner o' speaking. By all rights, they're our lawful +prize.” + +The Governor and the captain came to lunch in the absence of Mr. Davies. +Bai-Jove-Judson had not much to offer, but what he had was given as by +a beaten foeman to a generous conqueror. When they were a little +warmed--the Governor genial and the captain almost effusive--he +explained, quite casually, over the opening of a bottle that it would +not be to his interest to report the affair seriously, and it was in the +highest degree improbable that the Admiral would treat it in any grave +fashion. + +“When my decks are cut up” (there was one groove across four planks), +“and my plates buckled” (there were five lead patches on three plates), +“and I meet such a boat as the 'Guadala', and a mere accident saves me +from being blown out of the water--” + +“Yes. A mere accident, Captain. The shoal-buoy has been lost,” said the +captain of the 'Guadala'. + +“Ah? I do not know this river. That was very sad. But as I was saying, +when an accident saves me from being sunk, what can I do but go away--if +that is possible? But I fear that I have no coal for the sea voyage. +It is very sad.” Judson had compromised on what he knew of the French +tongue as a working language. + +“It is enough,” said the Governor, waving a generous hand. “Judson of +my soul, the coal is yours, and you shall be repaired--yes, repaired all +over of your battle's wounds. You shall go with all the honours of all +the wars. Your flag shall fly. Your drum shall beat. Your, ah!--jolly +boys shall spoke their bayonets. Is it not so, Captain?” + +“As you say, Excellency. But the traders in the town. What of them?” + +The Governor looked puzzled for an instant. He could not quite remember +what had happened to those jovial men who had cheered him over night. +Judson interrupted swiftly: “His Excellency has set them to forced works +on barracks and magazines, and, I think, a custom-house. When that is +done they will be released, I hope, Excellency.” + +“Yes, they shall be released for your sake, little Judson of my heart.” + Then they drank the health of their respective sovereigns, while Mr. +Davies superintended the removal of the scarred plank and the shot-marks +on the deck and the bow-plates. + +“Oh, this is too bad,” said Judson when they went on deck. “That idiot +has exceeded his instructions, but--but yow must let me pay for this!” + +Mr. Davies, his legs in the water as he sat on a staging slung over +the bows, was acutely conscious that he was being blamed in a foreign +tongue. He smiled uneasily, and went on with his work. + +“What is it?” said the Governor. + +“That thick-head has thought that we needed some gold-leaf, and he has +borrowed that from your storeroom, but I must make it good.” Then in +English, “Stand up, Mr. Davies. What the--in--do you mean by taking +their gold-leaf? My--, are we a set of pirates to scrape the guts out +of a Levantine bumboat? Look contrite, you butt-ended, broad-breeched, +bottle-bellied, swivel-eyed son of a tinker, you! My Soul alive, can't +I maintain discipline in my own ship without a blacksmith of a +boiler-riveter putting me to shame before a yellow-nosed picaroon. Get +off the staging, Mr. Davies, and go to the engine-room. Put down that +leaf first, though, and leave the books where they are. I'll send for +you in a minute. Go aft!” + +Now, only the upper half of Mr. Davies's round face was above the +bulwarks when this torrent of abuse descended upon him; and it rose inch +by inch as the shower continued: blank amazement, bewilderment, rage, +and injured pride chasing each other across it till he saw his superior +officer's left eyelid flutter on the cheek twice. Then he fled to the +engine-room, and wiping his brow with a handful of cotton-waste, sat +down to overtake circumstances. + +“I am desolated,” said Judson to his companions, “but you see the +material that you give us. This leaves me more in your debt than +before. The stuff I can replace” (gold-leaf is never carried on +floating gun-platforms), “but for the insolence of that man how shall I +apologise?” + +Mr. Davies's mind moved slowly, but after a while he transferred the +cotton-waste from his forehead to his mouth and bit on it to prevent +laughter. He began a second dance on the engine-room plates. “Neat! Oh, +damned neat!” he chuckled. “I've served with a good few, but there never +was one so neat as him. And I thought he was the new kind that don't +know how to put a few words, as it were!” + +“Mr. Davies, you can continue your work,” said Judson down the +engine-room hatch. “These officers have been good enough to speak in +your favour. Make a thorough job of it while you are about it. Slap on +every man you have. Where did you get hold of it?” + +“Their storeroom is a regular theatre, sir. You couldn't miss it. +There's enough for two first-rates, and I've scoffed the best half of +it.” + +“Look sharp, then. We shall be coaling from her this afternoon. You'll +have to cover it all.” + +“Neat! Oh, damned neat!” said Mr. Davies under his breath, as he +gathered his subordinates together, and set about accomplishing the +long-deferred wish of Judson's heart. + +It was the “Martin Frobisher”, the flag-ship, a great war-boat when she +was new, in the days when men built for sail as well as for steam. She +could turn twelve knots under full sail, and it was under that that she +stood up the mouth of the river, a pyramid of silver beneath the +moon. The Admiral, fearing that he had given Judson a task beyond his +strength, was coming to look for him, and incidentally to do a little +diplomatic work along the coast. There was hardly wind enough to move +the “Frobisher” a couple of knots an hour, and the silence of the land +closed about her as she entered the fairway. Her yards sighed a little +from time to time, and the ripple under her bows answered the sigh. The +full moon rose over the steaming swamps, and the Admiral, gazing upon +it, thought less of Judson and more of the softer emotions. In answer to +the very mood of his mind, there floated across the silver levels of the +water, mellowed by distance to a most poignant sweetness, the throb of +a mandolin, and the voice of one who called upon a genteel Julia--upon +Julia, and upon love. The song ceased, and the sighing of the yards was +all that broke the silence of the big ship. + +Again the mandolin began, and the commander on the lee side of the +quarter-deck grinned a grin that was reflected in the face of the +signal-midshipman. Not a word of the song was lost, and the voice of the +singer was the voice of Judson. + + “Last week down our alley came a toff, + Nice old geyser with a nasty cough, + Sees my missus, takes his topper off, + Quite in a gentlemanly way “-- + +and so on to the end of the verse. The chorus was borne by several +voices, and the signal-midshipman's foot began to tap the deck +furtively. + + “'What cheer!' all the neighbours cried. + ''Oo are you going to meet, Bill? + 'Ave you bought the street, Bill?' + Laugh?--I thought I should ha' died + When I knocked 'em in the old Kent Road.” + + +It was the Admiral's gig, rowing softly, that came into the midst +of that merry little smoking-concert. It was Judson, the beribboned +mandolin round his neck, who received the Admiral as he came up the side +of the “Guadala”, and it may or may not have been the Admiral who stayed +till two in the morning and delighted the hearts of the Captain and +the Governor. He had come as an unbidden guest, and he departed as an +honoured one, but strictly unofficial throughout. Judson told his tale +next day in the Admiral's cabin as well as he could in the face of the +Admiral's gales of laughter, but the most amazing tale was that told by +Mr. Davies to his friends in the dockyard at Simon's Town from the +point of view of a second-class engine-room artificer, all unversed in +diplomacy. + +And if there be no truth either in my tale, which is Judson's tale, or +the tale of Mr. Davies, you will not find in harbour at Simon's Town +to-day a flat-bottomed twin-screw gunboat, designed solely for the +defence of rivers, about two hundred and seventy tons' displacement and +five feet draught, wearing in open defiance of the rules of the +Service a gold line on her gray paint. It follows also that you will +be compelled to credit that version of the fray which, signed by His +Excellency the Governor and despatched in the “Guadala”, satisfied the +self-love of a great and glorious people, and saved a monarchy from the +ill-considered despotism which is called a Republic. + + + + +A CONFERENCE OF THE POWERS + + Life liveth but in life, and doth not roam + To other lands if all be well at home: + “Solid as ocean foam,” quoth ocean foam. + +The room was blue with the smoke of three pipes and a cigar. The +leave-season had opened in India, and the first-fruits on this side of +the water were “Tick” Boileau, of the 45th Bengal Cavalry, who called +on me, after three years' absence, to discuss old things which had +happened. Fate, who always does her work handsomely, sent up the same +staircase within the same hour The Infant, fresh from Upper Burma, and +he and Boileau looking out of my window saw walking in the street one +Nevin, late in a Goorkha regiment which had been through the Black +Mountain Expedition. They yelled to him to come up, and the whole Street +was aware that they desired him to come up, and he came up, and there +followed Pandemonium in my room because we had foregathered from the +ends of the earth, and three of us were on a holiday, and none of us +were twenty-five, and all the delights of all London lay waiting our +pleasure. + +Boileau took the only other chair, The Infant, by right of his bulk, the +sofa; and Nevin, being a little man, sat cross-legged on the top of the +revolving bookcase, and we all said, “Who'd ha' thought it!” and “What +are you doing here?” till speculation was exhausted and the talk went +over to inevitable “shop.” Boileau was full of a great scheme for +winning a military attache-ship at St. Petersburg; Nevin had hopes of +the Staff College, and The Infant had been moving heaven and earth and +the Horse Guards for a commission in the Egyptian army. + +“What's the use o' that?” said Nevin, twirling round on the bookcase. + +“Oh, heaps! 'Course if you get stuck with a Fellaheen regiment, you're +sold; but if you are appointed to a Soudanese lot, you're in clover. +They are first-class fighting-men--and just think of the eligible +central position of Egypt in the next row!” + +This was putting the match to a magazine. We all began to explain the +Central Asian question off-hand, flinging army corps from the Helmund to +Kashmir with more than Russian recklessness. Each of the boys made for +himself a war to his own liking, and when we had settled all the details +of Armageddon, killed all our senior officers, handled a division +apiece, and nearly torn the atlas in two in attempts to explain our +theories, Boileau needs must lift up his voice above the clamour, +and cry, “Anyhow it'll be the hell of a row!” in tones that carried +conviction far down the staircase. + +Entered, unperceived in the smoke, William the Silent. “Gen'elman to +see you, sir,” said he, and disappeared, leaving in his stead none other +than Mr. Eustace Cleever. William would have introduced the Dragon of +Wantley with equal disregard of present company. + +“I--I beg your pardon. I didn't know that there was anybody--with +you.--” + +But it was not seemly to allow Mr. Cleever to depart; he was a great +man. The boys remained where they were, for any movement would have +choked up the little room. Only when they saw his gray hairs they stood +on their feet, and when The Infant caught the name, he said: + +“Are you--did you write that book called 'As it was in the Beginning'?” + +Mr. Cleever admitted that he had written the book. + +“Then--then I don't know how to thank you, sir,” said The Infant, +flushing pink. “I was brought up in the country you wrote about--all my +people live there; and I read the book in camp on the Hlinedatalone, and +I knew every stick and stone, and the dialect too; and, by Jove! it was +just like being at home and hearing the country people talk. Nevin, you +know 'As it was in the Beginning'? So does Ti--Boileau.” + +Mr. Cleever has tasted as much praise, public and private, as one man +may safely swallow; but it seemed to me that the outspoken admiration in +The Infant's eyes and the little stir in the little company came home to +him very nearly indeed. + +“Won't you take the sofa?” said The Infant. “I'll sit on Boileau's +chair, and--” here he looked at me to spur me to my duties as a host; +but I was watching the novelist's face. Cleever had not the least +intention of going away, but settled himself on the sofa. + +Following the first great law of the Army, which says “all property is +common except money, and you've only got to ask the next man for that,” + The Infant offered tobacco and drink. It was the least he could do; but +not the most lavish praise in the world held half as much appreciation +and reverence as The Infant's simple “Say when, sir,” above the long +glass. + +Cleever said “when,” and more thereto, for he was a golden talker, +and he sat in the midst of hero-worship devoid of all taint of +self-interest. The boys asked him of the birth of his book, and whether +it was hard to write, and how his notions came to him; and he answered +with the same absolute simplicity as he was questioned. His big eyes +twinkled, he dug his long thin hands into his gray beard and tugged +it as he grew animated. He dropped little by little from the peculiar +pinching of the broader vowels--the indefinable “euh,” that runs through +the speech of the pundit caste--and the elaborate choice of words, +to freely-mouthed “ows” and “ois,” and, for him at least, unfettered +colloquialisms. He could not altogether understand the boys, who hung +upon his words so reverently. The line of the chin-strap, that still +showed white and untanned on cheekbone and jaw, the steadfast young eyes +puckered at the corners of the lids with much staring through red-hot +sunshine, the slow, untroubled breathing, and the curious, crisp, curt +speech seemed to puzzle him equally. He could create men and women, +and send them to the uttermost ends of the earth, to help, delight, and +comfort; he knew every mood of the fields, and could interpret them to +the cities, and he knew the hearts of many in city and country, but he +had hardly, in forty years, come into contact with the thing which is +called a Subaltern of the Line. He told the boys this in his own way. + +“Well, how should you?” said The Infant. “You--you're quite different, +y' see, sir.” + +The Infant expressed his ideas in his tone rather than his words, but +Cleever understood the compliment. + +“We're only Subs,” said Nevin, “and we aren't exactly the sort of men +you'd meet much in your life, I s'pose.” + +“That's true,” said Cleever. “I live chiefly among men who write, +and paint, and sculp, and so forth. We have our own talk and our own +interests, and the outer world doesn't trouble us much.” + +“That must be awfully jolly,” said Boileau, at a venture. “We have our +own shop, too, but 'tisn't half as interesting as yours, of course. You +know all the men who've ever done anything; and we only knock about from +place to place, and we do nothing.” + +“The Army's a very lazy profession if you choose to make it so,” said +Nevin. “When there's nothing going on, there is nothing going on, and +you lie up.” + +“Or try to get a billet somewhere, to be ready for the next show,” said +The Infant with a chuckle. + +“To me,” said Cleever softly, “the whole idea of warfare seems so +foreign and unnatural, so essentially vulgar, if I may say so, that I +can hardly appreciate your sensations. Of course, though, any change +from idling in garrison towns must be a godsend to you.” + +Like many home-staying Englishmen, Cleever believed that the newspaper +phrase he quoted covered the whole duty of the Army whose toils enabled +him to enjoy his many-sided life in peace. The remark was not a happy +one, for Boileau had just come off the Frontier, The Infant had been on +the warpath for nearly eighteen months, and the little red man Nevin +two months before had been sleeping under the stars at the peril of his +life. But none of them tried to explain, till I ventured to point out +that they had all seen service and were not used to idling. Cleever took +in the idea slowly. + +“Seen service?” said he. Then, as a child might ask, “Tell me. Tell me +everything about everything.” + +“How do you mean?” said The Infant, delighted at being directly appealed +to by the great man. + +“Good Heavens! How am I to make you understand, if you can't see. In the +first place, what is your age?” + +“Twenty-three next July,” said The Infant promptly. + +Cleever questioned the others with his eyes. + +“I'm twenty-four,” said Nevin. + +“And I'm twenty-two,” said Boileau. + +“And you've all seen service?” + +“We've all knocked about a little bit, sir, but The Infant's the +war-worn veteran. He's had two years' work in Upper Burma,” said Nevin. + +“When you say work, what do you mean, you extraordinary creatures?” + +“Explain it, Infant,” said Nevin. + +“Oh, keeping things in order generally, and running about after little +dakus--that's dacoits--and so on. There's nothing to explain.” + +“Make that young Leviathan speak,” said Cleever impatiently, above his +glass. + +“How can he speak?” said I. “He's done the work. The two don't go +together. But, Infant, you're ordered to bukb.” + +“What about? I'll try.” + +“Bukb about a daur. You've been on heaps of 'em,” said Nevin. + +“What in the world does that mean? Has the Army a language of its own?” + +The Infant turned very red. He was afraid he was being laughed at, and +he detested talking before outsiders; but it was the author of “As it +was in the Beginning” who waited. + +“It's all so new to me,” pleaded Cleever; “and--and you said you liked +my book.” + +This was a direct appeal that The Infant could understand, and he began +rather flurriedly, with much slang bred of nervousness-- + +“Pull me up, sir, if I say anything you don't follow. About six months +before I took my leave out of Burma, I was on the Hlinedatalone, up near +the Shan States, with sixty Tommies--private soldiers, that is--and +another subaltern, a year senior to me. The Burmese business was a +subaltern's war, and our forces were split up into little detachments, +all running about the country and trying to keep the dacoits quiet. The +dacoits were having a first-class time, y' know--filling women up with +kerosene and setting 'em alight, and burning villages, and crucifying +people.” + +The wonder in Eustace Cleever's eyes deepened. He could not quite +realise that the cross still existed in any form. + +“Have you ever seen a crucifixion?” said he. + +“Of course not. 'Shouldn't have allowed it if I had; but I've seen the +corpses. The dacoits had a trick of sending a crucified corpse down +the river on a raft, just to show they were keeping their tail up and +enjoying themselves. Well, that was the kind of people I had to deal +with.” + +“Alone?” said Cleever. Solitude of the soul he could understand--none +better--but he had never in the body moved ten miles from his fellows. + +“I had my men, but the rest of it was pretty much alone. The nearest +post that could give me orders was fifteen miles away, and we used to +heliograph to them, and they used to give us orders same way--too many +orders.” + +“Who was your C. O.?” said Boileau. + +“Bounderby--Major. Pukka Bounderby; more Bounder than pukka. He went out +up Bhamo way. Shot, or cut down, last year,” said The Infant. + +“What are these interludes in a strange tongue?” said Cleever to me. + +“Professional information--like the Mississippi pilots' talk,” said +I. “He did not approve of his major, who died a violent death. Go on, +Infant.” + +“Far too many orders. You couldn't take the Tommies out for a two days' +daur--that's expedition--without being blown up for not asking leave. +And the whole country was humming with dacoits. I used to send out +spies, and act on their information. As soon as a man came in and told +me of a gang in hiding, I'd take thirty men with some grub, and go out +and look for them, while the other subaltern lay doggo in camp.” + +“Lay! Pardon me, but how did he lie?” said Cleever. + +“Lay doggo--lay quiet, with the other thirty men. When I came back, he'd +take out his half of the men, and have a good time of his own.” + +“Who was he?” said Boileau. + +“Carter-Deecey, of the Aurungabadis. Good chap, but too zubberdusty, and +went bokhar four days out of seven. He's gone out too. Don't interrupt a +man.” + +Cleever looked helplessly at me. + +“The other subaltern,” I translated swiftly, “came from a native +regiment, and was overbearing in his demeanour. He suffered much from +the fever of the country, and is now dead. Go on, Infant.” + +“After a bit, we got into trouble for using the men on frivolous +occasions, and so I used to put my signaller under arrest to prevent him +reading the helio-orders. Then I'd go out and leave a message to be sent +an hour after I got clear of the camp, something like this: 'Received +important information; start in an hour, unless countermanded.' If I +was ordered back, it didn't much matter. I swore the C. O.'s watch was +wrong, or something, when I came back. The Tommies enjoyed the fun, +and--Oh, yes, there was one Tommy who was the bard of the detachment. He +used to make up verses on everything that happened.” + +“What sort of verses?” said Cleever. + +“Lovely verses; and the Tommies used to sing 'em. There was one song +with a chorus, and it said something like this.” The Infant dropped into +the true barrack-room twang: + +“Theebaw, the Burma king, did a very foolish thing, When 'e mustered +'ostile forces in ar-rai, 'E little thought that we, from far across the +sea, Would send our armies up to Mandalai!” + +“O gorgeous!” said Cleever. “And how magnificently direct! The notion of +a regimental bard is new to me, but of course it must be so.” + +“He was awfly popular with the men,” said The Infant. “He had them all +down in rhyme as soon as ever they had done anything. He was a great +bard. He was always ready with an elegy when we picked up a Boh--that's +a leader of dacoits.” + +“How did you pick him up?” said Cleever. + +“Oh! shot him if he wouldn't surrender.” + +“You! Have you shot a man?” + +There was a subdued chuckle from all three boys, and it dawned on the +questioner that one experience in life which was denied to himself, and +he weighed the souls of men in a balance, had been shared by three very +young gentlemen of engaging appearance. He turned round on Nevin, who +had climbed to the top of the bookcase and was sitting cross-legged as +before. + +“And have you, too?” + +“Think so,” said Nevin, sweetly. “In the Black Mountain. He was rolling +cliffs on to my half-company, and spoiling our formation. I took a rifle +from a man, and brought him down at the second shot.” + +“Good Heavens! And how did you feel afterwards?” + +“Thirsty. I wanted a smoke, too.” + +Cleever looked at Boileau--the youngest. Surely his hands were guiltless +of blood. + +Boileau shook his head and laughed. “Go on, Infant,” said he. + +“And you too?” said Cleever. + +“Fancy so. It was a case of cut, cut or be cut, with me; so I cut--one. +I couldn't do any more, sir.” + +Cleever looked as though he would like to ask many questions, but The +Infant swept on in the full tide of his tale. + +“Well, we were called insubordinate young whelps at last, and strictly +forbidden to take the Tommies out any more without orders. I wasn't +sorry, because Tommy is such an exacting sort of creature. He wants to +live as though he were in barracks all the time. I was grubbing on fowls +and boiled corn, but the Tommies wanted their pound of fresh meat, and +their half ounce of this, and their two ounces of t'other thing, and +they used to come to me and badger me for plug tobacco when we were four +days in jungle. I said: 'I can get you Burma tobacco, but I don't keep +a canteen up my sleeve.' They couldn't see it. They wanted all the +luxuries of the season, confound 'em!” + +“You were alone when you were dealing with these men?” said Cleever, +watching The Infant's face under the palm of his hand. He was receiving +new ideas, and they seemed to trouble him. + +“Of course, unless you count the mosquitoes. They were nearly as big as +the men. After I had to lie doggo I began to look for something to do, +and I was great pals with a man called Hicksey in the Police, the best +man that ever stepped on earth; a first-class man.” + +Cleever nodded applause. He knew how to appreciate enthusiasm. + +“Hicksey and I were as thick as thieves. He had some Burma mounted +police--rummy chaps, armed with sword and Snider carbine. They rode +punchy Burma ponies, with string stirrups, red cloth saddles, and red +bell-rope headstalls. Hicksey used to lend me six or eight of them when +I asked him--nippy little devils, keen as mustard. But they told their +wives too much, and all my plans got known, till I learned to give false +marching orders overnight, and take the men to quite a different village +in the morning. Then we used to catch the simple daku before breakfast, +and made him very sick. It's a ghastly country on the Hlinedatalone; all +bamboo jungle, with paths about four feet wide winding through it. The +daku knew all the paths, and potted at us as we came round a corner; but +the mounted police knew the paths as well as the daku, and we used to go +stalking 'em in and out. Once we flushed 'em, the men on the ponies had +the advantage of the men on foot. We held all the country absolutely +quiet for ten miles round, in about a month. Then we took Boh Na-ghee, +Hicksey and I and the civil officer. That was a lark!” + +“I think I am beginning to understand a little,” said Cleever. “It was a +pleasure to you to administer and fight?” + +“Rather! There's nothing nicer than a satisfactory little expedition, +when you find your plans fit together, and your information's +teek--correct, you know, and the whole sub-chiz--I mean, when everything +works out like formulae on a blackboard. Hicksey had all the information +about the Boh. He had been burning villages and murdering people right +and left, and cutting up Government convoys, and all that. He was lying +doggo in a village about fifteen miles off, waiting to get a fresh gang +together. So we arranged to take thirty mounted police, and turn him +out before he could plunder into our newly-settled villages. At the last +minute, the civil officer in our part of the world thought he'd assist +at the performance.” + +“Who was he?” said Nevin. + +“His name was Dennis,” said The Infant slowly. “And we'll let it stay +so. He's a better man now than he was then.” + +“But how old was the civil power?” said Cleever. “The situation is +developing itself.” + +“He was about six-and-twenty, and he was awf'ly clever. He knew a lot of +things, but I don't think he was quite steady enough for dacoit-hunting. +We started overnight for Boh Na-ghee's village, and we got there just +before morning, without raising an alarm. Dennis had turned out armed +to his teeth--two revolvers, a carbine, and all sorts of things. I was +talking to Hicksey about posting the men, and Dennis edged his pony in +between us, and said, 'What shall I do? What shall I do? Tell me what to +do, you fellows.' We didn't take much notice; but his pony tried to bite +me in the leg, and I said, 'Pull out a bit, old man, till we've settled +the attack.' He kept edging in, and fiddling with his reins and his +revolvers, and saying, 'Dear me! Dear me! Oh, dear me! What do you +think I'd better do?' The man was in a deadly funk, and his teeth were +chattering.” + +“I sympathise with the civil power,” said Cleever. “Continue, young +Clive.” + +“The fun of it was, that he was supposed to be our superior officer. +Hicksey took a good look at him, and told him to attach himself to my +party. Beastly mean of Hicksey, that. The chap kept on edging in +and bothering, instead of asking for some men and taking up his own +position, till I got angry, and the carbines began popping on the other +side of the village. Then I said, 'For God's sake be quiet, and sit +down where you are! If you see anybody come out of the village, shoot +at him.' I knew he couldn't hit a hayrick at a yard. Then I took my men +over the garden wall--over the palisades, y' know--somehow or +other, and the fun began. Hicksey had found the Boh in bed under a +mosquito-curtain, and he had taken a flying jump on to him.” + +“A flying jump!” said Cleever. “Is that also war?” + +“Yes,” said The Infant, now thoroughly warmed. “Don't you know how you +take a flying jump on to a fellow's head at school, when he snores in +the dormitory? The Boh was sleeping in a bedful of swords and pistols, +and Hicksey came down like Zazel through the netting, and the net got +mixed up with the pistols and the Boh and Hicksey, and they all rolled +on the floor together. I laughed till I couldn't stand, and Hicksey was +cursing me for not helping him; so I left him to fight it out and went +into the village. Our men were slashing about and firing, and so were +the dacoits, and in the thick of the mess some ass set fire to a house, +and we all had to clear out. I froze on to the nearest daku and ran to +the palisade, shoving him in front of me. He wriggled loose and bounded +over the other side. I came after him; but when I had one leg one side +and one leg the other of the palisade, I saw that the daku had fallen +flat on Dennis's head. That man had never moved from where I left him. +They rolled on the ground together, and Dennis's carbine went off and +nearly shot me. The daku picked himself up and ran, and Dennis buzzed +his carbine after him, and it caught him on the back of his head and +knocked him silly. You never saw anything so funny in your life. I +doubled up on the top of the palisade and hung there, yelling with +laughter. But Dennis began to weep like anything. 'Oh, I've killed +a man,' he said. 'I've killed a man, and I shall never know another +peaceful hour in my life. Is he dead? Oh, is he dead? Good Lord, I've +killed a man!' I came down and said, 'Don't be a fool;' but he kept on +shouting, 'Is he dead?' till I could have kicked him. The daku was only +knocked out of time with the carbine. He came to after a bit, and I +said, 'Are you hurt much?' He groaned and said, 'No.' His chest was all +cut with scrambling over the palisade. 'The white man's gun didn't do +that,' he said; 'I did that, and I knocked the white man over.' Just +like a Burman, wasn't it? But Dennis wouldn't be happy at any price. +He said: 'Tie up his wounds. He'll bleed to death. Oh, he'll bleed to +death!' 'Tie 'em up yourself,' I said, 'if you're so anxious.' 'I can't +touch him,' said Dennis, 'but here's my shirt.' He took off his shirt, +and fixed the braces again over his bare shoulders. I ripped the shirt +up, and bandaged the dacoit quite professionally. He was grinning at +Dennis all the time; and Dennis's haversack was lying on the ground, +bursting full of sandwiches. Greedy hog! I took some, and offered some +to Dennis. 'How can I eat?' he said. 'How can you ask me to eat? His +very blood is on your hands now, and you're eating my sandwiches!' 'All +right,' I said; 'I'll give 'em to the daku.' So I did, and the little +chap was quite pleased, and wolfed 'em down like one o'clock.” + +Cleever brought his hand down on the table with a thump that made the +empty glasses dance. “That's Art!” he said. “Flat, flagrant mechanism! +Don't tell me that happened on the spot!” + +The pupils of The Infant's eyes contracted to two pin-points. “I beg +your pardon,” he said slowly and stiffly, “but I am telling this thing +as it happened.” + +Cleever looked at him a moment. “My fault entirely,” said he; “I should +have known. Please go on.” + +“Hicksey came out of what was left of the village with his prisoners +and captives, all neatly tied up. Boh Na-ghee was first, and one of the +villagers, as soon as he found the old ruffian helpless, began kicking +him quietly. The Boh stood it as long as he could, and then groaned, and +we saw what was going on. Hicksey tied the villager up and gave him a +half a dozen, good, with a bamboo, to remind him to leave a prisoner +alone. You should have seen the old Boh grin. Oh! but Hicksey was in +a furious rage with everybody. He'd got a wipe over the elbow that +had tickled up his funny-bone, and he was rabid with me for not having +helped him with the Boh and the mosquito-net. I had to explain that I +couldn't do anything. If you'd seen 'em both tangled up together on +the floor in one kicking cocoon, you'd have laughed for a week. Hicksey +swore that the only decent man of his acquaintance was the Boh, and +all the way to camp Hicksey was talking to the Boh, and the Boh was +complaining about the soreness of his bones. When we got back, and +had had a bath, the Boh wanted to know when he was going to be hanged. +Hicksey said he couldn't oblige him on the spot, but had to send him to +Rangoon. The Boh went down on his knees, and reeled off a catalogue of +his crimes--he ought to have been hanged seventeen times over, by his +own confession--and implored Hicksey to settle the business out of hand. +'If I'm sent to Rangoon,' said he, 'they'll keep me in jail all my life, +and that is a death every time the sun gets up or the wind blows.' +But we had to send him to Rangoon, and, of course, he was let off down +there, and given penal servitude for life. When I came to Rangoon I went +over the jail--I had helped to fill it, y' know--and the old Boh was +there, and he spotted me at once. He begged for some opium first, and I +tried to get him some, but that was against the rules. Then he asked me +to have his Sentence changed to death, because he was afraid of being +sent to the Andamans. I couldn't do that either, but I tried to cheer +him, and told him how things were going up-country, and the last thing +he said was--'Give my compliments to the fat white man who jumped on +me. If I'd been awake I'd have killed him.' I wrote that to Hicksey next +mail, and--and that's all. I'm 'fraid I've been gassing awf'ly, sir.” + +Cleever said nothing for a long time. The Infant looked uncomfortable. +He feared that, misled by enthusiasm, he had filled up the novelist's +time with unprofitable recital of trivial anecdotes. + +Then said Cleever, “I can't understand. Why should you have seen and +done all these things before you have cut your wisdom-teeth?” + +“Don't know,” said The Infant apologetically. “I haven't seen much--only +Burmese jungle.” + +“And dead men, and war, and power, and responsibility,” said Cleever, +under his breath. “You won't have any sensations left at thirty, if you +go on as you have done. But I want to hear more tales--more tales!” He +seemed to forget that even subalterns might have engagements of their +own. + +“We're thinking of dining out somewhere--the lot of us--and going on to +the Empire afterwards,” said Nevin, with hesitation. He did not like to +ask Cleever to come too. The invitation might be regarded as perilously +near to “cheek.” And Cleever, anxious not to wag a gray beard unbidden +among boys at large, said nothing on his side. + +Boileau solved the little difficulty by blurting out: “Won't you come +too, sir?” + +Cleever almost shouted “Yes,” and while he was being helped into his +coat continued to murmur “Good Heavens!” at intervals in a way that the +boys could not understand. + +“I don't think I've been to the Empire in my life,” said he; “but--what +is my life after all? Let us go.” + +They went out with Eustace Cleever, and I sulked at home because they +had come to see me, but had gone over to the better man; which was +humiliating. They packed him into a cab with utmost reverence, for was +he not the author of “As it was in the Beginning,” and a person in whose +company it was an honour to go abroad? From all I gathered later, he +had taken less interest in the performance before him than in their +conversations, and they protested with emphasis that he was “as good a +man as they make; knew what a man was driving at almost before he said +it; and yet he's so damned simple about things any man knows.” That was +one of many comments. + +At midnight they returned, announcing that they were “highly respectable +gondoliers,” and that oysters and stout were what they chiefly needed. +The eminent novelist was still with them, and I think he was calling +them by their shorter names. I am certain that he said he had been +moving in worlds not realised, and that they had shown him the Empire in +a new light. + +Still sore at recent neglect, I answered shortly, “Thank Heaven we have +within the land ten thousand as good as they,” and when he departed, +asked him what he thought of things generally. + +He replied with another quotation, to the effect that though singing +was a remarkably fine performance, I was to be quite sure that few lips +would be moved to song if they could find a sufficiency of kissing. + +Whereby I understood that Eustace Cleever, decorator and colourman in +words, was blaspheming his own Art, and would be sorry for this in the +morning. + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Soldiers Three, Part II., by Rudyard Kipling + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SOLDIERS THREE, PART II. *** + +***** This file should be named 2227-0.txt or 2227-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/2/2227/ + +Produced by Bill Stoddard + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Soldiers Three, Part II. + +Author: Rudyard Kipling + +Release Date: June, 2000 [EBook #2227] +Last Updated: March 9, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SOLDIERS THREE, PART II. *** + + + + +Produced by Bill Stoddard and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + SOLDIERS THREE + </h1> + <h3> + Part II. + </h3> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Rudyard Kipling + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> 'LOVE-O'WOMEN' </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> THE BIG DRUNK DRAF' </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> THE MUTINEY OF THE MAVERICKS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> THE MAN WHO WAS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> ONLY A SUBALTERN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> IN THE MATTER OF A PRIVATE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> THE LOST LEGION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> THE DRUMS OF THE FORE AND AFT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> JUDSON AND THE EMPIRE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> A CONFERENCE OF THE POWERS </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 'LOVE-O'WOMEN' + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A lamentable tale of things + Done long ago, and ill done. +</pre> + <p> + The horror, the confusion, and the separation of the murderer from his + comrades were all over before I came. There remained only on the + barrack-square the blood of man calling from the ground. The hot sun had + dried it to a dusky gold-beater-skin film, cracked lozenge-wise by the + heat, and as the wind rose each lozenge, rising a little, curled up at the + edges as if it were a dumb tongue. Then a heavier gust blew all away down + wind in grains of dark-coloured dust. It was too hot to stand in the + sunshine before breakfast. The men were all in barracks talking the matter + over. A knot of soldiers' wives stood by one of the entrances to the + married quarters, while inside a woman shrieked and raved with wicked + filthy words. + </p> + <p> + A quiet and well-conducted sergeant had shot down in broad daylight just + after early parade one of his own corporals, had then returned to barracks + and sat on a cot till the guard came for him. He would, therefore, in due + time be handed over to the High Court for trial. Further, but this he + could hardly have considered in his scheme of revenge, he would horribly + upset my work; for the reporting of the trial would fall on me without a + relief. What that trial would be like I knew even to weariness. There + would be the rifle carefully uncleaned, with the fouling marks about + breech and muzzle, to be sworn to by half a dozen superfluous privates; + there would be heat, reeking heat, till the wet pencil slipped sideways + between the fingers; and the punkah would swish and the pleaders would + jabber in the verandahs, and his Commanding Officer would put in + certificates of the prisoner's moral character, while the jury would pant + and the summer uniforms of the witnesses would smell of dye and soaps; and + some abject barrack-sweeper would lose his head in cross-examination, and + the young barrister who always defended soldiers' cases for the credit + that they never brought him, would say and do wonderful things, and would + then quarrel with me because I had not reported him correctly. At the + last, for he surely would not be hanged, I might meet the prisoner again, + ruling blank account-forms in the Central Jail, and cheer him with the + hope of a wardership in the Andamans. + </p> + <p> + The Indian Penal Code and its interpreters do not treat murder, under any + provocation whatever, in a spirit of jest. Sergeant Raines would be very + lucky indeed if he got off with seven years, I thought. He had slept the + night upon his wrongs, and had killed his man at twenty yards before any + talk was possible. That much I knew. Unless, therefore, the case was + doctored a little, seven years would be his least; and I fancied it was + exceedingly well for Sergeant Raines that he had been liked by his + Company. + </p> + <p> + That same evening—no day is so long as the day of a murder—I + met Ortheris with the dogs, and he plunged defiantly into the middle of + the matter. “I'll be one o' the witnesses,” said he. “I was in the + verandah when Mackie came along. 'E come from Mrs. Raines's quarters. + Quigley, Parsons, an' Trot, they was in the inside verandah, so they + couldn't 'ave 'eard nothing. Sergeant Raines was in the verandah talkin' + to me, an' Mackie 'e come along acrost the square an' 'e sez, 'Well,' sez + 'e, ''ave they pushed your 'elmet off yet, Sergeant?' 'e sez. An' at that + Raines 'e catches 'is breath an' 'e sez, 'My Gawd, I can't stand this!' + sez 'e, an' 'e picks up my rifle an' shoots Mackie. See?” + </p> + <p> + “But what were you doing with your rifle in the outer verandah an hour + after parade?” + </p> + <p> + “Cleanin' 'er,” said Ortheris, with the sullen brassy stare that always + went with his choice lies. + </p> + <p> + He might as well have said that he was dancing naked, for at no time did + his rifle need hand or rag on her twenty minutes after parade. Still the + High Court would not know his routine. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to stick to that—on the Book?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Like a bloomin' leech.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, I don't want to know any more. Only remember that Quigley, + Parsons, and Trot couldn't have been where you say without hearing + something; and there's nearly certain to be a barrack-sweeper who was + knocking about the square at the time. There always is.” + </p> + <p> + “Twasn't the sweeper. It was the beastie. 'E's all right.” + </p> + <p> + Then I knew that there was going to be some spirited doctoring, and I felt + sorry for the Government Advocate who would conduct the prosecution. + </p> + <p> + When the trial came on I pitied him more, for he was always quick to lose + his temper, and made a personal matter of each lost cause. Raines's young + barrister had for once put aside his unslaked and Welling passion for + alibis and insanity, had forsworn gymnastics and fireworks, and worked + soberly for his client. Mercifully the hot weather was yet young, and + there had been no flagrant cases of barrack-shootings up to the time; and + the jury was a good one, even for an Indian jury, where nine men out of + every twelve are accustomed to weighing evidence. Ortheris stood firm and + was not shaken by any cross-examination. The one weak point in his tale—the + presence of his rifle in the outer verandah—went unchallenged by + civilian wisdom, though some of the witnesses could not help smiling. The + Government Advocate called for the rope; contending throughout that the + murder had been a deliberate one. Time had passed, he argued, for that + reflection which comes so naturally to a man whose honour is lost. There + was also the Law, ever ready and anxious to right the wrongs of the common + soldier if, in deed, wrong had been done. But he doubted much whether + there had been any sufficient wrong. Causeless suspicion over-long brooded + upon had led, by his theory, to deliberate crime. But his attempts to + minimise the motive failed. The most disconnected witness knew—had + known for weeks—the causes of offence, and the prisoner, who + naturally was the last of all to know, groaned in the dock while he + listened. The one question that the trial circled round was whether Raines + had fired under sudden and blinding provocation given that very morning, + and in the summing up it was clear that Ortheris's evidence told. He had + contrived, most artistically, to suggest that he personally hated the + Sergeant, who had come into the verandah to give him a talking to for + insubordination. In a weak moment the Government Advocate asked one + question too many, “Beggin' your pardon, sir,” Ortheris replied, “'e was + callin' me a dam' impudent little lawyer.” The Court shook. The jury + brought it in a killing, but with every provocation and extenuation known + to God or man, and the Judge put his hand to his brow before giving + sentence, and the Adam's apple in the prisoner's throat went up and down + mercury-pumping before a cyclone. + </p> + <p> + In consideration of all considerations, from his Commanding Officer's + certificate of good conduct to the sure loss of pension, service, and + honour, the prisoner would get two years, to be served in India, and—there + need be no demonstration in Court. The Government Advocate scowled and + picked up his papers; the guard wheeled with a clash, and the prisoner was + relaxed to the Secular Arm, and driven to the jail in a broken-down + ticca-gharri. + </p> + <p> + His guard and some ten or twelve military witnesses, being less important, + were ordered to wait till what was officially called the cool of the + evening before marching back to cantonments. They gathered together in one + of the deep red brick verandahs of a disused lock-up and congratulated + Ortheris, who bore his honours modestly. I sent my work into the office + and joined them. Ortheris watched the Government Advocate driving off + lunch. + </p> + <p> + “That's a nasty little bald-'eaded little butcher, that is,” he said. “'E + don't please me. 'E's got a colley dog wot do, though. I'm goin' up to + Murree in a week. That dawg'll bring fifteen rupees anywheres.” + </p> + <p> + “You had better spend it in Masses,” said Terence, unbuckling his belt, + for he had been on the prisoner's guard, standing helmeted and bolt up + right for three long hours. + </p> + <p> + “Not me,” said Ortheris cheerfully. “Gawd'll put it down to B Comp'ny's + barrick damages one o' these days. You look strapped, Terence.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, I'm not so young as I was. That guard-mountin' wears on the sole + av the fut, and this”—he sniffed contemptuously at the brick + verandah—“is as hard setting as standin'!” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a minute. I'll get the cushions out of my cart,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Strewth—sofies! We're going it gay,” said Ortheris, as Terence + dropped himself section by section on the leather cushions, saying + prettily, “May you niver want a soft place wheriver you go, an' power to + share utt wid a frind. Another for yourself? That's good. It lets me sit + long ways. Stanley, pass me a poipe. Augrrh! An' that's another man gone + all to pieces bekaze av a woman. I must ha' been on forty or fifty + prisoners' gyards, first an' last, an' I hate ut new ivry time.” + </p> + <p> + “Let's see. You were on Losson's, Lancey's, Dugard's, and Stebbins's, that + I can remember,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, an' before that an' before that—scores av thim,” he answered + with a worn smile. “Tis betther to die than to live for thim, though. Whin + Raines comes out—he'll be changin' his kit at the jail now—he'll + think that too. He shud ha' shot himself an' the woman by rights, an' made + a clean bill av all. Now he's left the woman—she tuk tay wid Dinah + Sunday gone last—an' he's left himself. Mackie's the lucky man.” + </p> + <p> + “He's probably getting it hot where he is,” I ventured, for I knew + something of the dead Corporal's record. + </p> + <p> + “Be sure av that,” said Terence, spitting over the edge of the verandah. + “But fwhat he'll get there is light marchin'-ordher to fwhat he'd ha' got + here if he'd lived.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely not. He'd have gone on and forgotten like the others.” + </p> + <p> + “Did ye know Mackie well, Sorr?” said Terence. + </p> + <p> + “He was on the Pattiala guard of honour last winter, and I went out + shooting with him in an ekka for the day, and I found him rather an + amusing man.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he'll ha' got shut av amusemints, excipt turnin' from wan side to + the other, these few years come. I knew Mackie, an' I've seen too many to + be mistuk in the muster av wan man. He might ha' gone on an' forgot, as + you say, Sorr, but was a man wid an educashin, an' he used ut for his + schames, an' the same educashin, an' talk an' all that made him able to do + fwhat he had a mind to wid a woman, that same wud turn back again in the + long run an' tear him alive. I can't say fwhat that I mane to say bekaze I + don't know how, but Mackie was the spit an' livin' image av a man that I + saw march the same march all but; an' 'twas worse for him that he did not + come by Mackie's ind. Wait while I remimber now. 'Twas fwhin I was in the + Black Tyrone, an' he was drafted us from Portsmouth; an' fwhat was his + misbegotten name? Larry—Larry Tighe ut was; an' wan of the draft + said he was a gentleman ranker, an' Larry tuk an' three parts killed him + for saying so. An' he was a big man, an' a strong man, an' a handsome man, + an' that tells heavy in practice wid some women, but, takin' thim by an' + large, not wid all. Yet 'twas wid all that Larry dealt—all—for + he 'ud put the comether on any woman that trod the green earth av God, an' + he knew ut. Like Mackie that's roastin' now, he knew ut; an' niver did he + put the comether on any woman save an' excipt for the black shame. 'Tis + not me that shud be talkin', dear knows, dear knows, but the most av my + mis—misalli'nces was for pure devilry, an' mighty sorry I have been + whin harm came; an' time an' again wid a girl, ay, an' a woman too, for + the matter av that, whin I have seen by the eyes av her that I was makin' + more throuble than I talked, I have hild off an' let be for the sake av + the mother that bore me. But Larry, I'm thinkin', he was suckled by a + she-devil, for he niver let wan go that came nigh to listen to him. 'Twas + his business, as if it might ha' bin sinthry-go. He was a good soldier + too. Now there was the Colonel's governess—an' he a privit too!—that + was never known in barricks; an' wan av the Major's maids, and she was + promised to a man; an' some more outside; an' fwhat ut was amongst us + we'll never know till Judgment Day! 'Twas the nature av the baste to put + the comether on the best av thim—not the prettiest by any manner av + manes—but the like av such woman as you cud lay your band on the + Book an' swear there was niver thought av foolishness in. An' for that + very reason, mark you, he was niver caught. He came close to ut wanst or + twice, but caught he niver was, an' that cost him more at the ind than the + beginnin'. He talked to me more than most, bekaze he tould me, barrin' the + accident av my educashin, I'd ha' been the same kind av divil he was. 'An' + is ut like,' he wud say, houldin' his head high—'is ut like that I'd + iver be thrapped? For fwhat am I when all's said an' done?' he sez. 'A + damned privit,' sez he. 'An' is ut like, think you, that thim I know wud + be connect wid a privit like me? Number tin thousand four hundred an' + sivin,' he sez, grinnin'. I knew by the turn av his spache whin he was not + takin' care to talk rough that he was a gentleman ranker. + </p> + <p> + “'I do not undherstan' ut at all,' I sez; 'but I know,' sez I, 'that the + divil looks out av your eyes, an' I'll have no share wid you. A little fun + by way av amusemint where 't will do no harm, Larry, is right and fair, + but I am mistook if 'tis any amusemint to you,' I sez. + </p> + <p> + “'You are much mistook,' he sez. 'An' I counsel you not to judge your + betters.' + </p> + <p> + “'My betthers!' I sez. 'God help you, Larry. There's no betther in this. + 'Tis all bad, as you will find for yoursilf.' + </p> + <p> + “You're not like me,' he says, tossin' his head. + </p> + <p> + “'Praise the Saints, I am not,' I sez. 'Fwhat I have done I have done an' + been crool sorry for. Fwhin your time comes,' sez I, 'ye'll remimber fwhat + I say.' + </p> + <p> + “'An' whin that time comes,' sez he, 'I'll come to you for ghostly + consolation, Father Terence,' an' at that he wint off afther some more + divil's business—for to get expayrience, he tould me. He was wicked—rank + wicked—wicked as all Hell! I'm not construct by nature to go in fear + av any man, but, begad, I was afraid av Larry. He'd come in to barricks + wid his cap on three hairs, an' lie on his cot and stare at the ceilin', + and now an' again he'd fetch a little laugh, the like av a splash in the + bottom av a well, an' by that I knew he was schamin' new wickedness, an' + I'd be afraid. All this was long an' long ago, but ut hild me straight—for + a while. + </p> + <p> + “I tould you, did I not, Sorr, that I was caressed an' pershuaded to lave + the Tyrone on account av a throuble?” + </p> + <p> + “Something to do with a belt and a man's head, wasn't it?” Terence had + never given me the exact facts. + </p> + <p> + “It was. Faith, ivry time I go on prisoner's gyard in coort I wondher fwhy + I am not where the pris'ner is. But the man I struk tuk it in fair fight, + an' he had the good sinse not to die. Considher now, fwhat wud ha' come to + the Arrmy if he had! I was enthreated to exchange, an' my Commandin' + Orf'cer pled wid me. I wint, not to be disobligin', an' Larry tould me he + was powerful sorry to lose me, though fwhat I'd done to make him sorry I + do not know. So to the Ould Rig'mint I came, lavin' Larry to go to the + divil his own way, an' niver expectin' to see him again except as a + shootin'-case in barricks.... Who's that lavin' the compound?” Terence's + quick eye had caught sight of a white uniform skulking behind hedge. + </p> + <p> + “The Sergeant's gone visiting,” said a voice. + </p> + <p> + “Thin I command here, an' I will have no sneakin' away to the bazar, an' + huntin' for you wid a pathrol at midnight. Nalson, for I know ut's you, + come back to the verandah.” + </p> + <p> + Nalson, detected, slunk back to his fellows. There was a grumble that died + away in a minute or two, and Terence, turning on the other side, went on:— + </p> + <p> + “That was the last I saw av Larry for a while. Exchange is the same as + death for not thinkin', an' by token I married Dinah, an' that kept me + from remimberin' ould times. Thin we wint up to the Front, an' ut tore my + heart in tu to lave Dinah at the Depot in Pindi. Consequint whin was at + the Front I fought circumspectuous till I warrmed up, an thin I fought + double tides. You remimber fwhat I tould you in the gyard-gate av the + fight at Silver's Theatre.” + </p> + <p> + “Wot's that about Silver's Theayter!” said Ortheris quickly, over his + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Nothin', little man. A tale that ye know. As I was sayin', afther that + fight us av the Ould Rig'mint an' the Tyrone was all mixed together takin' + shtock ay the dead, an' av coorse I wint about to find if there was any + man that remimbered me. The second man I came acrost—an' how I'd + missed him in the fight I do not know—was Larry, an' a fine man he + looked, but oulder, by token that he had a call to be. 'Larry,' sez I, + 'how is ut wid you?' + </p> + <p> + “'Ye're callin' the wrong man,' he sez, wid his gentleman's smile; 'Larry + has been dead these three years. They call him “Love-o'-Women” now,' he + sez. By that I knew the ould divil was in him yet, but the ind av a fight + is no time for the beginnin' av confession, so we sat down an' talked av + times.' + </p> + <p> + “'They tell me you're a married man,' he sez, puffing slow at his poipe. + 'Are ye happy?' + </p> + <p> + “'I will be whin I get back to Depot,' I sez. ''Tis a reconnaissance + honeymoon now.' + </p> + <p> + “'I'm married too,' he sez, puffin' slow an' more slow, an' stopperin' wid + his forefinger. + </p> + <p> + “'Sind you happiness,' I sez. 'That's the best hearin' for a long time.' + </p> + <p> + “'Are ye av that opinion?' he sez; an' thin he began talkin' av the + campaign. The sweat av Silver's Theatre was not dhry upon him, an' he was + prayin' for more work. I was well contint to lie and listen to the + cook-pot lids. + </p> + <p> + “Whin he got up off the ground he shtaggered a little, an' laned over all + twisted. + </p> + <p> + “'Ye've got more than ye bargained for,' I sez. 'Take an inventory, Larry. + 'Tis like you're hurt.' + </p> + <p> + “He turned round stiff as a ramrod an' damned the eyes av me up an' down + for an impartinent Irish-faced ape. If that had been in barricks, I'd ha' + stretched him an' no more said; but 'twas at the Front, an' afther such a + fight as Silver's Theatre I knew there was no callin' a man to account for + his timpers. He might as well ha' kissed me. Aftherwards I was well + pleased I kept my fistes home. Then our Captain Crook—Cruik-na-bul-leen—came + up. He'd been talkin' to the little orf'cer bhoy av the Tyrone. 'We're all + cut to windystraws,' he sez, 'but the Tyrone are damned short for noncoms. + Go you over there, Mulvaney, an' be Deputy-Sergeant, Corp'ral, Lance, an' + everything else ye can lay hands on till I bid you stop.' + </p> + <p> + “'I wint over an' tuk hould. There was wan sergeant left standin', an' + they'd pay no heed to him. The remnint was me, an' 'twas high time I came. + Some I talked to, an' some I did not, but before night the bhoys av the + Tyrone stud to attention, begad, if I sucked on my poipe above a whishper. + Betune you an' me an' Bobs, I was commandin' the company, an' that was + what Cruik had thransferred me for, an' the little orf'cer bhoy knew ut, + and I knew ut, but the comp'ny did not. And there, mark you, is the vartue + that no money an' no dhrill can buy—the vartue av the ould soldier + that knows his orf'cer's work an' does ut—at the salute! + </p> + <p> + “Thin the Tyrone, wid the Ould Rig'mint in touch, was sint maraudin' and + prowlin' acrost the hills promishcuous an' unsatisfactory. 'Tis my privit + opinion that a gin'ral does not know half his time fwhat to do wid + three-quarthers his command. So he shquats on his hunkers an' bids thim + run round an' round forninst him while he considhers on ut. Whin by the + process av nature they get sejuced into a big fight that was none av their + seekin', he sez: 'Obsarve my shuparior janius! I meant ut to come so.' We + ran round an' about, an' all we got was shootin' into the camp at night, + an' rushin' empty sungars wid the long bradawl, an' bein' hit from behind + rocks till we was wore out—all except Love-o'-Women. That puppy-dog + business was mate an' dhrink to him. Begad, he cud niver get enough av ut. + Me well knowin' that it is just this desultorial campaignin' that kills + the best men, an' suspicionin' that if I was cut the little orf'cer bhoy + wud expind all his men in thryin' to get out, I wud lie most powerful + doggo whin I heard a shot, an' curl my long legs behind a bowlder, an' run + like blazes whin the ground was clear. Faith, if I led the Tyrone in + rethreat wanst I led them forty times. Love-o'-Women wud stay pottin' an' + pottin' from behind a rock, and wait till the fire was heaviest, an' thin + stand up an' fire man-height clear. He wud lie out in camp too at night + snipin' at the shadows, for he niver tuk a mouthful av slape. My + commandin' orf'cer—save his little soul!—cud not see the + beauty av of my strategims, an' whin the Ould Rig'mint crossed us, an' + that was wanst a week, he'd throt off to Cruik, wid his big blue eyes as + round as saucers, an' lay an information against me. I heard thim wanst + talkin' through the tent-wall, an' I nearly laughed. + </p> + <p> + “'He runs—runs like a hare,' sez the little orf'cer bhoy. ''Tis + demoralisin' my men.' + </p> + <p> + “'Ye damned little fool,' sez Cruik, laughin'. 'He's larnin' you your + business. Have ye been rushed at night yet?' + </p> + <p> + “'No,' sez the child, wishful that he had been. + </p> + <p> + “'Have you any wounded?' sez Cruik. + </p> + <p> + “'No,' he sez. 'There was no chanst for that. They follow Mulvaney too + quick,' he sez. + </p> + <p> + “'Fwhat more do you want, thin?' sez Cruik. 'Terence is bloodin' you neat + an' handy,' he sez. 'He knows fwhat you do not, an' that's that there's a + time for ivrything. He'll not lead you wrong,' he sez, 'but I'd give a + month's pay to larn fwhat he thinks av you.' + </p> + <p> + “That kept the babe quiet, but Love-o'-Women was pokin' at me for + ivrything I did, an' specially my manoeuvres. + </p> + <p> + “'Mr. Mulvaney,' he sez wan evenin', very contempshus, 'you're growin' + very jeldy wid your feet. Among gentlemen,' he sez, 'among gentlemen + that's called no pretty name.' + </p> + <p> + “'Among privits 'tis different,' I sez. 'Get back to your tent. I'm + sergeant here,' I sez. + </p> + <p> + “There was just enough in the voice av me to tell him he was playin' wid + his life betune his teeth. He wint off, an' I noticed that this man that + was contempshus set off from the halt wid a shunt as tho' he was bein' + kicked behind. That same night there was a Paythan picnic in the hills + about, an' firin' into our tents fit to wake the livin' dead. 'Lie down + all,' I sez. 'Lie down an' kape still. They'll no more than waste + ammunition.' + </p> + <p> + “I heard a man's feet on the ground, an' thin a 'Tini joinin' in the + chorus. I'd been lyin' warm, thinkin' av Dinah an' all, but I crup out wid + the bugle for to look round in case there was a rush, an' the 'Tini was + flashin' at the fore-ind av the camp, an' the hill near by was fair + flickerin' wid long-range fire. Undher the starlight I beheld + Love-o'-Women settin' on a rock wid his belt and helmet off. He shouted + wanst or twice, an' thin I heard him say: 'They should ha' got the range + long ago. Maybe they'll fire at the flash.' Thin he fired again, an' that + dhrew a fresh volley, and the long slugs that they chew in their teeth + came floppin' among the rocks like tree-toads av a hot night. 'That's + better,' sez Love-o'-Women. 'Oh Lord, how long, how long!' he sez, an' at + that he lit a match an' held ut above his head. + </p> + <p> + “'Mad,' thinks I, 'mad as a coot,' an' I tuk wan stip forward, an' the + nixt I knew was the sole av my boot flappin' like a cavalry gydon an' the + funny-bone av my toes tinglin'. 'Twas a clane-cut shot—a slug—that + niver touched sock or hide, but set me bare-fut on the rocks. At that I + tuk Love-o'-Women by the scruff an' threw him under a bowlder, an' whin I + sat down I heard the bullets patterin' on that good stone. + </p> + <p> + “'Ye may dhraw your own wicked fire,' I sez, shakin' him, 'but I'm not + goin' to be kilt too.' + </p> + <p> + “Ye've come too soon,' he sez. 'Ye've come too soon. In another minute + they cud not ha' missed me. Mother av God,' he sez, 'fwhy did ye not lave + me be? Now 'tis all to do again,' an' he hides his face in his hands. + </p> + <p> + “'So that's it,' I sez, shakin' him again. 'That's th manin' av your + disobeyin' ordhers.' + </p> + <p> + “'I dare not kill meself,' he sez, rockin' to and fro. 'My own hand wud + not let me die, and there's not a bullet this month past wud touch me. I'm + to die slow,' he sez. 'I'm to die slow. But I'm in hell now,' he sez, + shriekin' like a woman. 'I'm in hell now!' + </p> + <p> + “'God be good to us all,' I sez, for I saw his face. 'Will ye tell a man + the throuble. If 'tis not murder, maybe we'll mend it yet.' + </p> + <p> + “At that he laughed. 'D'you remimber fwhat I said in the Tyrone barricks + about comin' to you for ghostly consolation. I have not forgot,' he sez. + 'That came back, an' the rest av my time is on me now, Terence. I've + fought ut off for months an' months, but the liquor will not bite any + more, Terence,' he sez. 'I can't get dhrunk.' + </p> + <p> + “Thin I knew he spoke the truth about bein' in hell, for whin liquor does + not take hould, the sowl av a man is rotten in him. But me bein' such as I + was, fwhat could I say to him? + </p> + <p> + “'Di'monds an' pearls,' he begins again. 'Di'monds and pearls I have + thrown away wid both hands—an' fwhat have I left? Oh, fwhat have I + left?' + </p> + <p> + “He was shakin' an' thremblin' up against my shouldher, an' the slugs was + singin' overhead, an' I was wonderin' whether my little bhoy wud have + sinse enough to kape his men quiet through all this firin'. + </p> + <p> + “'So long as I did not think,' sez Love-o'-Women, 'so long I did not see—I + wud not see—but I can now, what I've lost. The time an' the place,' + he sez, 'an' the very words I said whin ut pleased me to go off alone to + hell. But thin, even thin,' he sez, wrigglin' tremenjus, 'I wud not ha' + been happy. There was too much behind av me. How cud I ha' believed her + sworn oath—me that have bruk mine again an' again for the sport av + seein' thim cry. An' there are the others,' he sez. 'Oh, what will I do—what + will I do'?' He rocked back an' forward again, an' I think he was cryin' + like wan av the women he dealt wid. + </p> + <p> + “The full half av fwhat he said was Brigade Ordhers to me, but from the + rest an' the remnint I suspicioned somethin' av his throuble. 'Twas the + judgmint av God had grup the heel av him, as I tould him 'twould in the + Tyrone barricks. The slugs was singin' over our rock more an' more, an' I + sez for to divart him: 'Let bad alone,' I sez. 'They'll be thryin' to rush + the camp in a minut'.' + </p> + <p> + “I had no more than said that whin a Paythan man crep' up on his belly wid + his knife betune his teeth, not twinty yards from us. Love-o'-Women jumped + up an' fetched a yell, an' the man saw him an' ran at him (he'd left his + rifle under the rock) wid the knife. Love-o'-Women niver turned a hair, + but by the Living Power, for I saw ut, a stone twisted under the Paythan + man's feet an' he came down full sprawl, an' his knife wint tinklin' + acrost the rocks! 'I tould you I was Cain,' sez Love-o'-Women.' 'Fwhat's + the use av killin' him? He's an honest man—by compare.' + </p> + <p> + “I was not dishputin' about the morils av Paythans that tide, so I + dhropped Love-o'-Women's burt acrost the man's face, an' 'Hurry into + camp,' I sez, 'for this may be the first av a rush.' + </p> + <p> + “There was no rush afther all, though we waited undher arms to give thim a + chanst. The Paythan man must ha' come alone for the mischief, an' afther a + while Love-o'-Women wint back to his tint wid that quare lurchin' sind-off + in his walk that I cud niver undherstand. Begad, I pitied him, an' the + more bekaze he made me think for the rest av the night av the day whin I + was confirmed Corp'ril, not actin' Lef'tenant, an' my thoughts was not + good. + </p> + <p> + “Ye can undherstand that afther that night we came to talkin' a dale + together, an' bit by bit ut came out fwhat I'd suspicioned. The whole av + his carr'in's on an' divilmints had come back on him hard as liquor comes + back whin you've been on the dhrink for a wake. All he'd said an' all he'd + done, an' only he cud tell how much that was, come back, an' there was + niver a minut's peace in his sowl. 'Twas the Horrors widout any cause to + see, an' yet, an' yet—fwhat am I talkin' av? He'd ha' taken the + Horrors wid thankfulness. Beyon' the repentince av the man, an' that was + beyon' the natur av man—awful, awful, to behould!—there was + more that was worst than any repentince. Av the scores an' scores that he + called over in his mind (an' they were dhrivin' him mad), there was, mark + you, wan woman av all, an' she was not his wife, that cut him to the quick + av his marrow. 'Twas there he said that he'd thrown away di'monds an' + pearls past count, an' thin he'd begin again like a blind byle in an + oil-mill, walkin' round an' round, to considher (him that was beyond all + touch av being happy this side hell!) how happy he wud ha' been wid her. + The more he considhered, the more he'd consate himself that he'd lost + mighty happiness, an' thin he wud work ut all backwards, an' cry that he + niver cud ha' been happy anyways. + </p> + <p> + “Time an' time an' again in camp, on p'rade, ay, an' in action, I've seen + that man shut his eyes an' duck his head as you wud duck to the flicker av + a bay'nit. For 'twas thin he tould me that the thought av all he'd missed + came an' stud forninst him like red-hot irons. For what he'd done wid the + others he was sorry, but he did not care; but this wan woman that I've + tould of, by the Hilts av God she made him pay for all the others twice + over! Niver did I know that a man cud enjure such tormint widout his heart + crackin' in his ribs, an' I have been”—Terence turned the pipe-stem + slowly between his teeth—“I have been in some black cells. All I + iver suffered tho' was not to be talked of alongside av him... an' what + could I do? Paternosters was no more than peas for his sorrow. + </p> + <p> + “Evenshually we finished our prom'nade acrost the hills, and thanks to me + for the same, there was no casualties an' no glory. The campaign was + comin' to an ind, an' all the rig'mints was bein' drawn together for to be + sint back home. Love-o'-Women was mighty sorry bekaze he had no work to + do, an' all his time to think in. I've heard that man talkin' to his + belt-plate an' his side-arms while he was soldierin' thim, all to prevint + himself from thinkin', an' ivry time he got up afther he had been settin' + down or wint on from the halt, he'd start wid that kick an' traverse that + I tould you of—his legs sprawlin' all ways to wanst. He wud niver go + see the docthor, tho' I tould him to be wise. He'd curse me up an' down + for my advice; but I knew he was no more a man to be reckoned wid than the + little bhoy was a commandin' orf'cer, so I let his tongue run if it aised + him. + </p> + <p> + “Wan day—'twas on the way back—I was walkin' round camp wid + him, an' he stopped an' struck ground wid his right fut three or four + times doubtful. 'Fwhat is ut?' I sez. 'Is that ground?' sez he; an' while + I was thinkin' his mind was goin', up comes the docthor, who'd been + anatomisin' a dead bullock. Love-o'-Women starts to go on quick, an' lands + me a kick on the knee while his legs was gettin' into marchin' ordher. + </p> + <p> + “Hould on there,' sez the docthor; an' Love-o'-Women's face, that was + lined like a gridiron, turns red as brick. + </p> + <p> + “'Tention,' says the docthor; an' Love-o'-Women stud so. 'Now shut your + eyes,' sez the docthor. 'No, ye must not hould by your comrade.' + </p> + <p> + “'Tis all up,' sez Love-o'-Women, trying to smile. 'I'd fall, docthor, an' + you know ut.' + </p> + <p> + “'Fall?' I sez. 'Fall at attention wid your eyes shut! Fwhat do you mane?' + </p> + <p> + “The docthor knows,' he sez. 'I've hild up as long as I can, but begad I'm + glad 'tis all done. But I will die slow,' he sez, 'I will die very slow.' + </p> + <p> + “I cud see by the docthor's face that he was mortial sorry for the man, + an' he ordhered him to hospital. We wint back together, an' I was + dumbstruck; Love-o'-Women was cripplin' and crumblin' at ivry step. He + walked wid a hand on my shoulder all slued sideways, an' his right leg + swingin' like a lame camel. Me not knowin' more than the dead fwhat ailed + him, 'twas just as though the docthor's word had done ut all—as if + Love-o'-Women had but been waitin' for the ordher to let go. + </p> + <p> + “In hospital he sez somethin' to the docthor that I could not catch. + </p> + <p> + “'Holy shmoke!' sez the docthor, 'an' who are you to be givin' names to + your diseases? 'Tis ag'in' all the regulations.' + </p> + <p> + “'I'll not be a privit much longer,' sez Love-o'-Women in his gentleman's + voice, an' the docthor jumped. + </p> + <p> + “'Thrate me as a study, Docthor Lowndes,' he sez; an' that was the first + time I'd iver heard a docthor called his name. + </p> + <p> + “'Good-bye, Terence,' sez Love-o'-Women. ''Tis a dead man I am widout the + pleasure av dyin'. You'll come an' set wid me sometimes for the peace av + my soul.' + </p> + <p> + “Now I had been minded to ask Cruik to take me back to the Ould Rig'mint, + for the fightin' was over, an' I was wore out wid the ways av the bhoys in + the Tyrone; but I shifted my will, an' hild on, an' wint to set wid + Love-o'-Women in the hospital. As I have said, Sorr, the man bruk all to + little pieces undher my hand. How long he had hild up an' forced himself + fit to march I cannot tell, but in hospital but two days later he was such + as I hardly knew. I shuk hands wid him, an' his grip was fair strong, but + his hands wint all ways to wanst, an' he cud not button his tunic. + </p> + <p> + “'I'll take long an' long to die yet,' he sez, 'for the ways av sin + they're like interest in the rig'mintal savin's-bank—sure, but a + damned long time bein' paid.' + </p> + <p> + “The docthor sez to me quiet one day, 'Has Tighe there anythin' on his + mind?' he sez. 'He's burnin' himself out.' + </p> + <p> + “'How shud I know, Sorr?' I sez, as innocent as putty. + </p> + <p> + “They call him Love-o'-Women in the Tyrone, do they not?' he sez. 'I was a + fool to ask. Be wid him all you can. He's houldin' on to your strength.' + </p> + <p> + “'But what ails him, docthor,' I sez. + </p> + <p> + “'They call ut Locomotus attacks us,' he sez, 'bekaze,' sez he, 'ut + attacks us like a locomotive, if ye know fwhat that manes. An' ut comes,' + sez he, lookin' at me, 'ut comes from bein' called Love-o'-Women.' + </p> + <p> + “'You're jokin', docthor,' I sez. + </p> + <p> + “'Jokin'!' sez he. 'If iver you feel that you've got a felt sole in your + boot instead av a Government bull's-wool, come to me,' he sez, 'an' I'll + show you whether 'tis a joke.' + </p> + <p> + “You would not belave ut, Sorr, but that an' seein' Love-o'-Women overtuk + widout warnin' put the cowld fear av attacks us on me so strong that for a + week an' more I was kickin' my toes against stones an' stumps for the + pleasure av feelin' them hurt. + </p> + <p> + “An' Love-o'-Women lay in the cot (he might have gone down wid the wounded + before an' before, but he asked to stay wid me), and fwhat there was in + his mind had full swing at him night an' day an' ivry hour av the day an' + the night, an' he withered like beef rations in a hot sun, an' his eyes + was like owls' eyes, an' his hands was mut'nous. + </p> + <p> + “They was gettin' the rig'mints away wan by wan, the campaign bein' inded, + but as ushuil they was behavin' as if niver a rig'mint had been moved + before in the mem'ry av man. Now, fwhy is that, Sorr? There's fightin' in + an' out nine months av the twelve somewhere in the Army. There has been—for + years an' years an' years, an' I wud ha' thought they'd begin to get the + hang av providin' for throops. But no! Ivry time it's like a girls' school + meetin' a big red bull whin they're goin' to church; an' 'Mother av God,' + sez the Commissariat an' the railways an' the Barrick-masters, 'fwhat will + we do now?' The ordhers came to us av the Tyrone an' the Ould Rig'mint an' + half a dozen more to go down, and there the ordhers stopped dumb. We wint + down, by the special grace av God—down the Khaiber anyways. There + was sick wid us, an' I'm thinkin' that some av them was jolted to death in + the doolies, but they was anxious to be kilt so if they cud get to + Peshawur alive the sooner. I walked by Love-o'-Women—there was no + marchin', an' Love-o'-Women was not in a stew to get on. 'If I'd only ha' + died up there!' sez he through the doolie-curtains, an' then he'd twist up + his eyes an' duck his head for the thoughts that came to him. + </p> + <p> + “Dinah was in Depot at Pindi, but I wint circumspectuous, for well I knew + 'tis just at the rump-ind av all things that his luck turns on a man. By + token I ad seen a dhriver of a batthery goin' by at a trot singin' 'Home, + swate home' at the top av his shout, and takin' no heed o his bridle-hand—I + had seen that man dhrop under the gun in the middle of a word, and come + out by the limber like—like a frog on a pave-stone. No. I wud not + hurry, though, God knows, my heart was all in Pindi. Love-o'-Women saw + fwhat was in my mind, an' 'Go on, Terence,' h sez, 'I know fwhat's waitin' + for you.' 'I will not,' I sez. ''Twill kape a little yet.' + </p> + <p> + “Ye know the turn of the pass forninst Jumrood and the nine mile road on + the flat to Peshawur? All Peshawur was along that road day and night + waitin' for frinds—men, women, childer, and bands. Some av the + throops was camped round Jumrood, an' some went on to Peshawur to get away + down to their cantonmints. We came through in the early mornin', havin' + been awake the night through, and we dhruv sheer into the middle av the + mess. Mother av Glory, will I ever forget that comin' back? The light was + not fair lifted, and the furst we heard was 'For 'tis my delight av a + shiny night,' frum a band that thought we was the second four comp'nies av + the Lincolnshire. At that we was forced to sind them a yell to say who we + was, an' thin up wint 'The wearin' av the Green.' It made me crawl all up + my backbone, not havin' taken my brequist. Thin, right smash into our + rear, came fwhat was left av the Jock Elliotts—wid four pipers an' + not half a kilt among thim, playin' for the dear life, an' swingin' their + rumps like buck rabbits, an' a native rig'mint shrieking blue murther. Ye + niver heard the like. There was men cryin' like women that did—an' + faith I do not blame thim. Fwhat bruk me down was the Lancers' Band—shinin' + an' spick like angels, wid the ould dhrum-horse at the head an' the silver + kettle-dhrums an' all an' all, waitin' for their men that was behind us. + They shtruck up the Cavalry Canter, an', begad, those poor ghosts that had + not a sound fut in a throop they answered to ut, the men rockin' in their + saddles. We thried to cheer them as they wint by, but ut came out like a + big gruntin' cough, so there must have been many that was feelin' like me. + Oh, but I'm forgettin'! The Fly-by-Nights was waitin' for their second + battalion, an' whin ut came out, there was the Colonel's horse led at the + head—saddle-empty. The men fair worshipped him, an' he'd died at Au + Musjid on the road down. They waited till the remnint av the battalion was + up, and thin—clane against ordhers, for who wanted that chune that + day?—they wint back to Peshawur slow-time an' tearin' the bowils out + av ivry man that heard, wid 'The Dead March.' Right across our line they + wint, an' ye know their uniforms are as black as the Sweeps, crawlin' past + like the dead, an' the other bands damnin' them to let be. + </p> + <p> + “Little they cared. The carpse was wid them, an' they'd ha' taken ut so + through a Coronation. Our ordhers was to go into Peshawur, an' we wint + hot-fut past the Fly-by-Nights, not singin', to lave that chune behind us. + That was how we tuk the road of the other corps. + </p> + <p> + “'Twas ringin' in my ears still whin I felt in the bones of me that Dinah + was comin', an' I heard a shout, an' thin I saw a horse an' a tattoo + latherin' down the road, hell to shplit, under women. I knew—I knew! + Wan was the Tyrone Colonel's wife—ould Beeker's lady—her gray + hair flyin' an' her fat round carkiss rowlin' in the saddle, an' the other + was Dinah, that shud ha' been at Pindi. The Colonel's lady she charged at + the head av our column like a stone wall, an' she all but knocked Beeker + off his horse throwin' her arms round his neck an' blubberin', 'Me bhoy! + Me bhoy!' an' Dinah wheeled left an' came down our flank, an' I let a yell + that had suffered inside av me for months, and—Dinah came. Will I + iver forget that while I live! She'd come on pass from Pindi, an' the + Colonel's lady had lint her the tattoo. They'd been huggin' an' cryin' in + each other's arms all the long night. + </p> + <p> + “So she walked along wid her hand in mine, askin' forty questions to + wanst, an' beggin' me on the Virgin to make oath that there was not a + bullet consaled in me, unbeknownst somewhere, an' thin I remimbered + Love-o'-Women. He was watchin' us, an' his face was like the face av a + divil that has been cooked too long. I did not wish Dinah to see ut, for + whin a woman's runnin' over wid happiness she's like to be touched, for + harm aftherwards, by the laste little thing in life. So I dhrew the + curtain, an' Love-o'-Women lay back and groaned. + </p> + <p> + “Whin we marched into Peshawur, Dinah wint to barracks to wait for me, an' + me feelin' so rich that tide, I wint on to take Love-o'-Women to hospital. + It was the last I cud do, an' to save him the dust an' the smother I + turned the doolie-men down a road well clear av the rest av the throops, + an we wint along, me talkin' through the curtains. Av a sudden I heard him + say:— + </p> + <p> + “'Let me look. For the Mercy av Hiven, let me look!' I had been so tuk up + wid gettin' him out av the dust and thinkin' of Dinah that I had not kept + my eyes about me. There was a woman ridin' a little behind av us, an', + talkin' ut over wid Dinah aftherwards, that same woman must ha' rid not + far on the Jumrood road. Dinah said that she had been hoverin' like a kite + on the left flank av the column. + </p> + <p> + “I halted the doolie to set the curtains, an' she rode by walkin'-pace, + an' Love-o'-Women's eyes wint afther her as if he would fair haul her down + from the saddle. + </p> + <p> + “'Follow there,' was all he sez, but I niver heard a man spake in that + voice before or since, an' I knew by those two wan words an' the look in + his face that she was Di'monds-an'-Pearls that he'd talked av in his + disthresses. + </p> + <p> + “We followed till she turned into the gate av a little house that stud + near the Edwardes's Gate. There was two girls in the verandah, an' they + ran in whin they saw us. Faith, at long eye-range ut did not take me a + wink to see fwhat kind av house ut was. The throops bein' there an' all, + there was three or four such, but aftherwards the polis bade them go. At + the verandah Love-o'-Women sez, catchin' his breath, 'Stop here,' an' + thin, an' thin, wid a grunt that must ha' tore the heart up from his + stomach, he swung himself out av the doolie, an' my troth he stud up on + his feet wid the sweat pourin' down his face. If Mackie was to walk in + here now I'd be less tuk back than I was thin. Where he'd dhrawn his power + from, God knows or the divil—but 't was a dead man walkin' in the + sun wid the face av a dead man and the breath av a dead man held up by the + Power, an' the legs an' the arms of the carpse obeyin' ordhers! + </p> + <p> + “The woman stud in the verandah. She'd been a beauty too, though her eyes + was sunk in her head, an' she looked Love-o'-Women up an' down terrible. + 'An',' she sez, kickin' back the tail av her habit,—'An',' she sez, + 'fwhat are you doin' here, married man?' + </p> + <p> + “Love-o'-Women said nothin', but a little froth came to his lips, an' he + wiped ut off wid his hand an' looked at her an' the paint on her, an' + looked, an' looked, an' looked. + </p> + <p> + “'An' yet,' she sez, wid a laugh. (Did you hear Mrs. Raines laugh whin + Mackie died? Ye did not? Well for you.) 'An' yet,' she sez, 'who but you + have betther right,' sez she. 'You taught me the road. You showed me the + way,' she sez. 'Ay, look,' she sez, 'for 'tis your work; you that tould me—d'you + remimber it?—that a woman who was false to wan man cud be false to + two. I have been that,' she sez, 'that an' more, for you always said I was + a quick learner, Ellis. Look well,' she sez, 'for it is me that you called + your wife in the sight av God long since!' An' she laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Love-o'-Women stud still in the sun widout answerin'. Thin he groaned an' + coughed to wanst, an' I thought 'twas the death-rattle, but he niver tuk + his eyes off her face not for a wink. Ye cud ha' put her eyelashes through + the flies av an E. P. tent, they were so long. + </p> + <p> + “'Fwhat do you do here?' she sez, word by word, 'that have taken away my + joy in my man this five years gone—that have broken my rest an' + killed my body an' damned my soul for the sake av seem' how 'twas done? + Did your expayrience aftherwards bring you acrost any woman that gave more + than I did? Wud I not ha' died for you an' wid you, Ellis? Ye know that, + man! If ever your lyin' sowl saw truth in uts life ye know that.' + </p> + <p> + “An' Love-o'-Women lifted up his head and said, 'I knew,' an' that was + all. While she was spakin' the Power hild him up parade-set in the 'sun, + an the sweat dhropped undher his helmet. 'Twas more an' more throuble for + him to talk, an' his mouth was runnin' twistways. + </p> + <p> + “Fwhat do you do here?' she sez, an' her voice whit up. 'Twas like bells + tollin' before. 'Time was whin you were quick enough wid your words,—you + that talked me down to hell. Are ye dumb now?' An' Love-o'-W omen got his + tongue, an' sez simple, like a little child, 'May I come in?' he sez. + </p> + <p> + “The house is open day an' night,' she sez, wid a laugh; an' Love-o'-Women + ducked his head an' hild up his hand as tho' he was gyardin'. The Power + was on him still—it hild him up still, for, by my sowl, as I'll + never save ut, he walked up the verandah steps that had been a livin' + corpse in hospital for a month! + </p> + <p> + “'An' now'?' she sez, lookin' at him; an' the red paint stud lone on the + white av her face like a bull's-eye on a target. + </p> + <p> + “He lifted up his eyes, slow an' very slow, an' he looked at her long an' + very long, an' he tuk his spache betune his teeth wid a wrench that shuk + him. + </p> + <p> + “'I'm dyin', Aigypt—dyin',' he sez; ay, those were his words, for I + remimber the name he called her. He was turnin' the death-colour, but his + eyes niver rowled. They were set—set on her. Widout word or warnin' + she opened her arms full stretch, an' 'Here!' she sez. (Oh, fwhat a golden + mericle av a voice ut was!) 'Die here,' she sez; an' Love-o'-Women + dhropped forward, an' she hild him up, for she was a fine big woman. + </p> + <p> + “I had no time to turn, bekaze that minut I heard the sowl quit him—tore + out in the death-rattle—an' she laid him back in a long chair, an' + she sez to me, 'Misther soldier,' she sez, 'will ye not go in an' talk to + wan av the girls. This sun's too much for him.' + </p> + <p> + “Well I knew there was no sun he'd iver see, but I cud not spake, so I + wint away wid the empty doolie to find the docthor. He'd been breakfastin' + an' lunchin' ever since we'd come in, an' he was as full as a tick. + </p> + <p> + “Faith ye've got dhrunk mighty soon,' he sez, whin I'd tould him, 'to see + that man walk. Barrin' a puff or two av life, he was a corpse before we + left Jumrood. I've a great mind,' he sez, 'to confine you.' + </p> + <p> + “There's a dale av liquor runnin' about, docthor,' I sez, solemn as a + hard-boiled egg. 'Maybe 'tis so, but will ye not come an' see the corpse + at the house?' + </p> + <p> + “Tis dishgraceful,' he sez, 'that I would be expected to go to a place + like that. Was she a pretty woman?'' he sez, an' at that he set off double + quick. + </p> + <p> + “I cud see that the two was in the verandah were I'd left them, an' I knew + by the hang av her head an' the noise av the crows fwhat had happened. + 'Twas the first and the last time that I'd ever known woman to use the + pistol. They dread the shot as a rule, but Di'monds-an'-Pearls she did not—she + did not. + </p> + <p> + “The docthor touched the long black hair av her head ('twas all loose upon + Love-o'-Women's chest), an' that cleared the liquor out av him. He stud + considherin' a long time, his hands in his pockets, an' at last he sez to + me, 'Here's a double death from naturil causes, most naturil causes; an' + in the presint state av affairs the rig'mint will be thankful for wan + grave the less to dig. Issiwasti,' he sez, 'Issiwasti, Privit Mulvaney, + these two will be buried together in the Civil Cemet'ry at my expinse, an' + may the good God,' he sez, 'make it SO much for me whin my time comes. Go + to your wife,' he sez; 'go an' be happy. I'll see to this all.' + </p> + <p> + “I left him still considherin'. They was buried in the Civil Cemet'ry + together, wid a Church of England service. There was too many buryin's + thin to ask questions, an' the docthor—he ran away wid Major—Major + Van Dyce's lady that year—he saw to ut all. Fwhat the right an' the + wrong av Love-o'-Women an' Di'monds-an'-Pearls was I niver knew, an' I + will niver know; but I've tould ut as I came acrost ut—here an' + there in little pieces. So, being fwhat I am, an' knowin' fwhat I know, + that's fwhy I say in this shootin'-case here, Mackie that's dead an' in + hell is the lucky man. There are times, Sorr, whin 'tis betther for the + man to die than to live, an' by consequince forty million times betther + for the woman.” + </p> + <p> + “H'up there!” said Ortheris. “It's time to go.” The witnesses and guard + formed up in the thick white dust of the parched twilight and swung off, + marching easy and whistling. Down the road to the green by the church I + could hear Ortheris, the black Book-lie still uncleansed on his lips, + setting, with a fine sense of the fitness of things, the shrill quick-step + that runs— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Oh, do not despise the advice of the wise, + Learn wisdom from those that are older, + And don't try for things that are out of your reach— + An' that's what the Girl told the Soldier + Soldier! Soldier! + Oh, that's what the Girl told the Soldier!” + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE BIG DRUNK DRAF' + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We're goin' 'ome, we're goin' 'ome— + Our ship is at the shore, + An' you mus' pack your 'aversack, + For we won't come back no more. + Ho, don't you grieve for me, + My lovely Mary Ann, + For I'll marry you yet on a fourp'ny bit, + As a time-expired ma-a-an + + Barrack Room Ballad. +</pre> + <p> + AN awful thing has happened! My friend, Private Mulvaney, who went home in + the Serapis, time-expired, not very long ago, has come back to India as a + civilian! It was all Dinah Shadd's fault. She could not stand the poky + little lodgings, and she missed her servant Abdullah more than words could + tell. The fact was that the Mulvaneys had been out here too long, and had + lost touch of England. + </p> + <p> + Mulvaney knew a contractor on one of the new Central India lines, and + wrote to him for some sort of work. The contractor said that if Mulvaney + could pay the passage he would give him command of a gang of coolies for + old sake's sake. The pay was eighty-five rupees a month, and Dinah Shadd + said that if Terence did not accept she would make his life a “basted + purgathory.” Therefore the Mulvaneys came out as “civilians,” which was a + great and terrible fall; though Mulvaney tried to disguise it by saying + that he was “Ker'nel on the railway line, an' a consequinshal man.” + </p> + <p> + He wrote me an invitation, on a tool-indent form, to visit him; and I came + down to the funny little “construction” bungalow at the side of the line. + Dinah Shadd had planted peas about and about, and nature had spread all + manner of green stuff round the place. There was no change in Mulvaney + except the change of clothing, which was deplorable, but could not be + helped. He was standing upon his trolly, haranguing a gangman, and his + shoulders were as well drilled and his big, thick chin was as clean-shaven + as ever. + </p> + <p> + “I'm a civilian now,” said Mulvaney. “Cud you tell that I was iver a + martial man'? Don't answer, Sorr, av you're strainin' betune a complimint + an' a lie. There's no houldin' Dinah Shadd now she's got a house av her + own. Go inside, an' dhrink tay out av chiny in the drrrrawin'-room, an' + thin we'll dhrink like Christians undher the tree here. Scutt, ye + naygur-folk! There's a Sahib come to call on me, an' that's more than + he'll iver do for you onless you run! Get out, an' go on pilin' up the + earth, quick, till sundown.” + </p> + <p> + When we three were comfortably settled under the big sisham in front of + the bungalow, and the first rush of questions and answers about Privates + Ortheris and Learoyd and old times and places had died away, Mulvaney + said, reflectively—“Glory be, there's no p'rade to-morrow, an' no + bun-headed Corp'ril-bhoy to give you his lip. An' yit I don't know. 'Tis + harrd to be something ye niver were an' niver meant to be, an' all the + ould days shut up along wid your papers. Eyah! I'm growin' rusty, an' 'tis + the will av God that a man mustn't serve his Quane for time an' all.” + </p> + <p> + He helped himself to a fresh peg, and sighed furiously. + </p> + <p> + “Let your beard grow, Mulvaney,” said I, “and then you won't be troubled + with those notions. You'll be a real civilian.” + </p> + <p> + Dinah Shadd had told me in the drawing-room of her desire to coax Mulvaney + into letting his beard grow. “'Twas so civilian-like,” said poor Dinah, + who hated her husband's hankering for his old life. + </p> + <p> + “Dinah Shadd, you're a dishgrace to an honust, clane-scraped man!” said + Mulvaney, without replying to me. “Grow a beard on your own chin, darlint, + and lave my razors alone. They're all that stand betune me and + dis-ris-pect-ability. Av I didn't shave, I wud be torminted wid an + outrajis thurrst; for there's nothin' so dhryin' to the throat as a big + billy-goat beard waggin' undher the chin. Ye wudn't have me dhrink always, + Dinah Shadd'? By the same token, you're kapin' me crool dhry now. Let me + look at that whiskey.” + </p> + <p> + The whiskey was lent and returned, but Dinah Shadd, who had been just as + eager as her husband in asking after old friends, rent me with— + </p> + <p> + “I take shame for you, Sorr, coming down here though the Saints know + you're as welkim as the daylight whin you do come—an' upsettin' + Terence's head wid your nonsense about—about fwhat's much betther + forgotten. He bein' a civilian now, an' you niver was aught else. Can you + not let the Arrmy rest? 'Tis not good for Terence.” + </p> + <p> + I took refuge by Mulvaney, for Dinah Shadd has a temper of her own. + </p> + <p> + “Let be—let be,” said Mulvaney. “'Tis only wanst in a way I can talk + about the ould days.” Then to me—“Ye say Dhrumshticks is well, an' + his lady tu'? I niver knew how I liked the gray garron till I was shut av + him an' Asia.”—“Dhrumshticks” was the nickname of the Colonel + commanding Mulvaney's old regiment.—“Will you be seein' him again? + You will. Thin tell him”—Mulvaney's eyes began to twinkle—“tell + him wid Privit—” + </p> + <p> + “Mister, Terence,” interrupted Dinah Shadd. “Now the Divil an' all his + angils an' the Firmament av Hiven fly away wid the 'Mister,' an' the sin + av makin' me swear be on your confession, Dinah Shadd! Privit, I tell ye. + Wid Privit Mulvaney's best obedience, that but for me the last + time-expired wud be still pullin' hair on their way to the sea.” + </p> + <p> + He threw himself back in the chair, chuckled, and was silent. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Mulvaney,” I said, “please take up the whiskey, and don't let him + have it until he has told the story.” + </p> + <p> + Dinah Shadd dexterously whipped the bottle away, saying at the same time, + “'Tis nothing to be proud av,” and thus captured by the enemy, Mulvaney + spake:— + </p> + <p> + “'Twas on Chuseday week. I was behaderin' round wid the gangs on the + 'bankmint—I've taught the hoppers how to kape step an' stop + screechin'—whin a head-gangman comes up to me, wid about two inches + av shirt-tail hanging round his neck an' a disthressful light in his oi. + 'Sahib,' sez he, 'there's a reg'mint an' a half av soldiers up at the + junction, knockin' red cinders out av ivrything an' ivrybody! They thried + to hang me in my cloth,' he sez, 'an' there will be murdher an' ruin an' + rape in the place before nightfall! They say they're comin' down here to + wake us up. What will we do wid our women-folk?' + </p> + <p> + “'Fetch my throlly!' sez I; 'my heart's sick in my ribs for a wink at + anything wid the Quane's uniform on ut. Fetch my throlly, an' six av the + jildiest men, and run me up in shtyle.'” + </p> + <p> + “He tuk his best coat,” said Dinah Shadd, reproachfully. + </p> + <p> + “'Twas to do honour to the Widdy. I cud ha' done no less, Dinah Shadd. You + and your digresshins interfere wid the coorse av the narrative. Have you + iver considhered fwhat I wud look like wid me head shaved as well as me + chin? You bear that in your mind, Dinah darlin'. + </p> + <p> + “I was throllied up six miles, all to get a shquint at that draf'. I knew + 'twas a spring draf' goin' home, for there's no rig'mint hereabouts, + more's the pity.” + </p> + <p> + “Praise the Virgin!” murmured Dinah Shadd. But Mulvaney did not hear. + </p> + <p> + “Whin I was about three-quarters av a mile off the rest-camp, powtherin' + along fit to burrst, I heard the noise av the men, an', on my sowl, Sorr, + I cud catch the voice av Peg Barney bellowin' like a bison wid the + belly-ache. You remimber Peg Barney that was in D Comp'ny—a red, + hairy scraun, wid a scar on his jaw? Peg Barney that cleared out the Blue + Lights' Jubilee meetin' wid the cook-room mop last year? + </p> + <p> + “Thin I knew ut was a draf' av the Ould Rig'mint, an' I was conshumed wid + sorrow for the bhoy that was in charge. We was harrd scrapin's at any + time. Did I iver tell you how Horker Kelley wint into clink nakid as + Phoebus Apollonius, wid the shirts av the Corp'ril an' file undher his + arrum? An' he was a moild man! But I'm digresshin'. 'Tis a shame both to + the rig'mints and the Arrmy sendin' down little orf'cer bhoys wid a draf' + av strong men mad wid liquor an' the chanst av gettin' shut av India, an' + niver a punishment that's fit to be given right down an' away from + cantonmints to the dock! 'Tis this nonsinse. Whin I am servin' my time, + I'm undher the Articles av War, an' can be whipped on the peg for thim. + But whin I've served my time, I'm a Reserve man, an' the Articles av War + haven't any hould on me. An orf'cer can't do anythin' to a time-expired + savin' confinin' him to barricks. 'Tis a wise rig'lation, bekaze a + time-expired does not have any barricks; bein' on the move all the time. + 'Tis a Solomon av a rig'lation, is that. I wud like to be inthroduced to + the man that made ut. 'Tis easier to get colts from a Kibbereen horse-fair + into Galway than to take a bad draf' over ten miles av counthry. + Consiquintly that rig'lation—for fear that the men wud be hurt by + the little orf'cer bhoy. No matther. The nearer my throlly came to the + rest-camp, the woilder was the shine, an' the louder was the voice of Peg + Barney. ''Tis good I am here,' thinks I to mysilf, 'for Peg alone is + employmint for two or three.' He bein', I well knew, as copped as a + dhrover. + </p> + <p> + “Faith, that rest-camp was a sight! The tent-ropes was all skew-nosed, an' + the pegs looked as dhrunk as the men—fifty av thim—the + scourin's, an' rinsin's, an' Divil's lavin's av the Ould Rig'mint. I tell + you, Sorr, they were dhrunker than any men you've ever seen in your + mortial life. How does a draf' get dhrunk? How does a frog get fat? They + suk ut in through their shkins. + </p> + <p> + “There was Peg Barney sittin' on the groun' in his shirt—wan shoe + off an' wan shoe on—whackin' a tent-peg over the head wid his boot, + an' singin' fit to wake the dead. 'Twas no clane song that he sung, + though. 'Twas the Divil's Mass.” + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Whin a bad egg is shut av the Army, he sings the Divil's Mass for a good + riddance; an' that manes swearin' at ivrything from the + Commandher-in-Chief down to the Room-Corp'ril, such as you niver in your + days heard. Some men can swear so as to make green turf crack! Have you + iver heard the Curse in an Orange Lodge? The Divil's Mass is ten times + worse, an' Peg Barney was singin' ut, whackin' the tent-peg on the head + wid his boot for each man that he cursed. A powerful big voice had Peg + Barney, an' a hard swearer he was whin sober. I stood forninst him, an' + 'twas not me oi alone that cud tell Peg was dhrunk as a coot. + </p> + <p> + “Good mornin', Peg,' I sez, whin he dhrew breath afther dursin' the + Adj'tint-Gen'ral; 'I've put on my best coat to see you, Peg Barney,' sez + I. + </p> + <p> + “Thin take Ut off again,' sez Peg Barney, latherin' away wid the boot; + 'take ut off an' dance, ye lousy civilian!' + </p> + <p> + “Wid that he begins cursin' ould Dhrumshticks, being so full he dane + disrernimbers the Brigade-Major an' the Judge-Advokit-Gen'ral. + </p> + <p> + “Do you not know me, Peg?' sez I, though me blood was hot in me wid being + called a civilian.” + </p> + <p> + “An' him a decent married man!” wailed Dinah Shadd. + </p> + <p> + “I do not,” sez Peg, “but dhrunk or sober I'll tear the hide off your back + wid a shovel whin I've stopped singin.” + </p> + <p> + “'Say you so, Peg Barney?' sez I. ''Tis clear as mud you've forgotten me. + I'll assist your autobiography.' Wid that I stretched Peg Barney, boot an' + all, an' wint into the camp. An awful sight ut was! + </p> + <p> + “'Where's the orf'cer in charge av the detachment?' sez I to Scrub Greene—the + manest little worm that ever walked. + </p> + <p> + “'There's no orf'cer, ye ould cook,' sez Scrub; 'we're a bloomin' + Republic.' + </p> + <p> + “'Are you that?' sez I; 'thin I'm O'Connell the Dictator, an' by this you + will larn to kape a civil tongue in your rag-box.' + </p> + <p> + “Wid that I stretched Scrub Greene an' wint to the orf'cer's tent. 'Twas a + new little bhoy—not wan I'd iver seen before. He was sittin' in his + tent, purtendin' not to 'ave ear av the racket. + </p> + <p> + “I saluted—but for the life av me I mint to shake hands whin I went + in. 'Twas the sword hangin' on the tent-pole changed my will. + </p> + <p> + “'Can't I help, Sorr?' sez I; ''tis a strong man's job they've given you, + an' you'll be wantin' help by sundown.' He was a bhoy wid bowils, that + child, an' a rale gintleman. + </p> + <p> + “'Sit down,' sez he. + </p> + <p> + “'Not before my orf'cer,' sez I; an' I tould him fwhat my service was. + </p> + <p> + “'I've heard av you,' sez he. 'You tuk the town av Lungtungpen nakid.' + </p> + <p> + “'Faith,' thinks I, 'that's Honour an' Glory'; for 'twas Lift'nint + Brazenose did that job. 'I'm wid ye, Sorr,' sez I, 'if I'm av use. They + shud niver ha' sent you down wid the draf'. Savin' your presince, Sorr,' I + sez, ''tis only Lift'nint Hackerston in the Ould Rig'mint can manage a + Home draf'.' + </p> + <p> + “'I've niver had charge of men like this before,' sez he, playin' wid the + pens on the table; 'an' I see by the Rig'lations—' + </p> + <p> + “'Shut your oi to the Rig'lations, Sorr,' I sez, 'till the throoper's into + blue wather. By the Rig'lations you've got to tuck thim up for the night, + or they'll be runnin' foul av my coolies an' makin' a shiverarium half + through the counthry. Can you trust your noncoms, Sorr?' + </p> + <p> + “'Yes,' sez he. + </p> + <p> + “'Good,' sez I; 'there'll be throuble before the night. Are you marchin', + Sorr?' + </p> + <p> + “'To the next station,' sez he. + </p> + <p> + “'Betther still,' sez I; 'there'll be big throuble.' + </p> + <p> + “'Can't be too hard on a Home draf,' sez he; 'the great thing is to get + thim in-ship.' + </p> + <p> + “'Faith, you've larnt the half av your lesson, Sorr,' sez I, 'but av you + shtick to the Rig'lations you'll niver get thim inship at all, at all. Or + there won't be a rag av kit betune thim whin you do.' + </p> + <p> + “'Twas a dear little orf'cer bhoy, an' by way av kapin' his heart up, I + tould him fwhat I saw wanst in a draf in Egypt.” + </p> + <p> + “What was that, Mulvaney?” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Sivin an' fifty men sittin' on the bank av a canal, laughin' at a poor + little squidgereen av an orf'cer that they'd made wade into the slush an' + pitch things out av the boats for their Lord High Mightinesses. That made + me orf'cer bhoy woild wid indignation. + </p> + <p> + “'Soft an' aisy, Sorr,' sez I; 'you've niver had your draf' in hannd since + you left cantonmints Wait till the night, an' your work will be ready to + you. Wid your permission, Sorr, I will investigate the camp, an' talk to + me ould frinds. 'Tis no manner av use thryin' to shtop the divilmint now.' + </p> + <p> + “Wid that I wint out into the camp an' inthrojuced mysilf to ivry man + sober enough to remimber me. I was some wan in the ould days, an' the + bhoys was glad to see me—all excipt Peg Barney wid a eye like a + tomata five days in the bazar, an' a nose to match. They come round me an' + shuk me, an' I tould thim I was in privit employ wid an income av me own, + an' a drrrawin'-room fit to bate the Quane's; an' wid me lies an' me + shtories an' nonsinse gin'rally, I kept 'em quiet in wan way an' another, + knockin' roun' the camp. 'Twas bad even thin whin I was the Angil av + Peace. + </p> + <p> + “I talked to me ould non-coms—they was sober—an' betune me an' + thim we wore the draf' over into their tents at the proper time. The + little orf'cer bhoy he conies round, dacint an' civil-spoken as might be. + </p> + <p> + “'Rough quarthers, men,' sez he, 'but you can't look to be as comfortable + as in barricks. We must make the best av things. I've shut my eyes to a + dale av dog's thricks to-day, an' now there must be no more av ut.' + </p> + <p> + “No more we will. Come an' have a dhrink, me son,' sez Peg Barney, + staggerin' where he stud. Me little orf'cer bhoy kep' his timper. + </p> + <p> + “'You're a sulky swine, you are,' sez Peg Barney, an' at that the men in + the tent began to laugh. + </p> + <p> + “I tould you me orf'cer bhoy had bowils. He cut Peg Barney as near as + might be on the oi that I'd squshed whin we first met. Peg wint spinnin' + acrost the tent. + </p> + <p> + “Peg him out, Sorr,' sez I, in a whishper. + </p> + <p> + “Peg him out!' sez me orf'cer bhoy, up loud, just as if 'twas battalion + p'rade an' he pickin' his wurrds from the Sargint. + </p> + <p> + “The non-coms tuk Peg Barney—a howlin' handful he was—an' in + three minut's he was pegged out—chin down, tight-dhrawn—on his + stummick, a tent-peg to each arm an' leg, swearin' fit to turn a naygur + white. + </p> + <p> + “I tuk a peg an'' jammed ut into his ugly jaw—'Bite on that, Peg + Barney,' I sez; 'the night is settin' frosty, an' you'll be wantin' + divarsion before the mornin'. But for the Rig'lations you'd be bitin' on a + bullet now at the thriangles, Peg Barney,' sez I. + </p> + <p> + “All the draf' was out av their tents watchin' Barney bein' pegged. + </p> + <p> + “''Tis agin the Rig'lations! He strook him!' screeches out Scrub Greene, + who was always a lawyer; an' some of the men tuk up the shoutin'. + </p> + <p> + “'Peg out that man!' sez me orf'cer bhoy, niver losin' his timper; an' the + non-coms wint in and pegged out Scrub Greene by the side av Peg Barney. + </p> + <p> + “I cud see that the draf' was comin' roun'. The men stud not knowin' fwhat + to do. + </p> + <p> + “'Get to your tents!' sez me orf'cer bhoy. 'Sargint, put a sinthry over + these two men.' + </p> + <p> + “The men wint back into the tents like jackals, an' the rest av the night + there was no noise at all excipt the stip av the sinthry over the two, an' + Scrub Greene blubberin' like a child. 'Twas a chilly night, an' faith, ut + sobered Peg Barney. + </p> + <p> + “Just before Revelly, me orf'cer bhoy comes out an' sez: 'Loose those men + an' send thim to their tents!' Scrub Greene wint away widout a word, but + Peg Barney, stiff wid the cowld, stud like a sheep, thryin' to make his + orf'cer undherstand he was sorry for playin' the goat. + </p> + <p> + “There was no tucker in the draf' whin ut fell in for the march, an' divil + a wurrd about 'illegality' cud I hear. + </p> + <p> + “I wint to the ould Colour-Sargint and I sez:—'Let me die in glory,' + sez I. 'I've seen a man this day!' + </p> + <p> + “'A man he is,' sez ould Hother; 'the draf's as sick as a herrin'. They'll + all go down to the sea like lambs. That bhoy has the bowils av a + cantonmint av Gin'rals.' + </p> + <p> + “'Amin,' sez I, 'an' good luck go wid him, wheriver he be, by land or by + sea. Let me know how the draf' gets clear.' + </p> + <p> + “An' do you know how they did? That bhoy, so I was tould by letter from + Bombay, bully-damned 'em down to the dock, till they cudn't call their + sowls their own. From the time they left me oi till they was 'tween decks, + not wan av thim was more than dacintly dhrunk. An' by the Holy Articles av + War, whin they wint aboord they cheered him till they cudn't spake, an' + that, mark you, has not come about wid a draf' in the mlm'ry av livin' + man! You look to that little orf'cer bhoy. He has bowils. 'Tis not ivry + child that wud chuck the Rig'lations to Flanders an' stretch Peg Barney on + a wink from a brokin an' dilapidated ould carkiss like mysilf. I'd be + proud to serve—” + </p> + <p> + “Terence, you're a civilian,” said Dinah Shadd warningly. + </p> + <p> + “So I am—so I am. Is ut likely I wud forget ut? But he was a gran' + bhoy all the same, an' I'm only a mudtipper wid a hod on me shoulthers. + The whiskey's in the heel av your hand, Sorr. Wid your good lave we'll + dhrink to the Ould Rig'mint—three fingers—standin' up!” And we + drank. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE MUTINEY OF THE MAVERICKS + </h2> + <p> + Sec. 7 (1)—Causing or Conspiring with other persons to cause a + mutiny or sedition in forces belonging to Her Majesty's Regular forces, + Reserve forces, Auxiliary forces, or Navy. + </p> + <p> + When three obscure gentlemen in San Francisco argued on insufficient + premises they condemned a fellow-creature to a most unpleasant death in a + far country which had nothing whatever to do with the United States. They + foregathered at the top of a tenement-house in Tehama Street, an unsavoury + quarter of the city, and, there calling for certain drinks, they conspired + because they were conspirators by trade, officially known as the Third + Three of the I. A. A.—an institution for the propagation of pure + light, not to be confounded with any others, though it is affiliated to + many. The Second Three live in Montreal, and work among the poor there; + the First Three have their home in New York, not far from Castle Garden, + and write regularly once a week to a small house near one of the big + hotels at Boulogne. What happens after that, a particular section of + Scotland Yard knows too well and laughs at. A conspirator detests + ridicule. More men have been stabbed with Lucrezia Borgia daggers and + dropped into the Thames for laughing at Head Centres and Triangles than + for betraying secrets; for this is human nature. + </p> + <p> + The Third Three conspired over whiskey cocktails and a clean sheet of + note-paper against the British Empire and all that lay therein. This work + is very like what men without discernment call politics before a general + election. You pick out and discuss, in the company of congenial friends, + all the weak points in your opponents' organisation, and unconsciously + dwell upon and exaggerate all their mishaps, till it seems to you a + miracle that the hated party holds together for an hour. + </p> + <p> + “Our principle is not so much active demonstration—that we leave to + others—as passive embarrassment, to weaken and unnerve,” said the + first man. “Wherever an organisation is crippled, wherever confusion is + thrown into any branch of any department, we gain a step for those who + take on the work; we are but the forerunners.” He was a German enthusiast, + and editor of a newspaper, from whose leading articles he quoted + frequently. + </p> + <p> + “That cursed Empire makes so many blunders of her own that unless we + doubled the year's average I guess it wouldn't strike her anything special + had occurred,” said the second man. “Are you prepared to say that all our + resources are equal to blowing off the muzzle of a hundred-ton gun or + spiking a ten-thousand-ton ship on a plain rock in clear daylight? They + can beat us at our own game. Better join hands with the practical + branches; we're in funds now. Try a direct scare in a crowded street. They + value their greasy hides.” He was the drag upon the wheel, and an + Americanised Irishman of the second generation, despising his own race and + hating the other. He had learned caution. + </p> + <p> + The third man drank his cocktail and spoke no word. He was the strategist, + but unfortunately his knowledge of life was limited. He picked a letter + from his breast-pocket and threw it across the table. That epistle to the + heathen contained some very concise directions from the First Three in New + York. It said— + </p> + <p> + “The boom in black iron has already affected the eastern markets, where + our agents have been forcing down the English-held stock among the smaller + buyers who watch the turn of shares. Any immediate operations, such as + western bears, would increase their willingness to unload. This, however, + cannot be expected till they see clearly that foreign iron-masters are + willing to co-operate. Mulcahy should be dispatched to feel the pulse of + the market, and act accordingly. Mavericks are at present the best for our + purpose.—P. D. Q.” + </p> + <p> + As a message referring to an iron crisis in Pennsylvania, it was + interesting, if not lucid. As a new departure in organized attack on an + outlying English dependency, it was more than interesting. + </p> + <p> + The second man read it through and murmured—“Already? Surely they + are in too great a hurry. All that Dhulip Singh could do in India he has + done, down to the distribution of his photographs among the peasantry. Ho! + Ho! The Paris firm arranged that, and he has no substantial money backing + from the Other Power. Even our agents in India know he hasn't. What is the + use of our organisation wasting men on work that is already done? Of + course the Irish regiments in India are half mutinous as they stand.” + </p> + <p> + This shows how near a lie may come to the truth. An Irish regiment, for + just so long as it stands still, is generally a hard handful to control, + being reckless and rough. When, however, it is moved in the direction of + musketry-firing, it becomes strangely and unpatriotically content with its + lot. It has even been heard to cheer the Queen with enthusiasm on these + occasions. + </p> + <p> + But the notion of tampering with the army was, from the point of view of + Tehama Street, an altogether sound one. There is no shadow of stability in + the policy of an English Government, and the most sacred oaths of England + would, even if engrossed on vellum, find very few buyers among colonies + and dependencies that have suffered from vain beliefs. But there remains + to England always her army. That cannot change except in the matter of + uniform and equipment. The officers may write to the papers demanding the + heads of the Horse Guards in default of cleaner redress for grievances; + the men may break loose across a country town and seriously startle the + publicans; but neither officers nor men have it in their composition to + mutiny after the continental manner. The English people, when they trouble + to think about the army at all, are, and with justice, absolutely assured + that it is absolutely trustworthy. Imagine for a moment their emotions on + realising that such and such a regiment was in open revolt from causes + directly due to England's management of Ireland. They would probably send + the regiment to the polls forthwith and examine their own consciences as + to their duty to Erin; but they would never be easy any more. And it was + this vague, unhappy mistrust that the I. A. A. were labouring to produce. + </p> + <p> + “Sheer waste of breath,” said the second man after a pause in the council. + “I don't see the use of tampering with their fool-army, but it has been + tried before and we must try it again. It looks well in the reports. If we + send one man from here you may bet your life that other men are going too. + Order up Mulcahy.” + </p> + <p> + They ordered him up—a slim, slight, dark-haired young man, devoured + with that blind rancorous hatred of England that only reaches its full + growth across the Atlantic. He had sucked it from his mother's breast in + the little cabin at the back of the northern avenues of New York; he had + been taught his rights and his wrongs, in German and Irish, on the canal + fronts of Chicago; and San Francisco held men who told him strange and + awful things of the great blind power over the seas. Once, when business + took him across the Atlantic, he had served in an English regiment, and + being insubordinate had suffered extremely. He drew all his ideas of + England that were not bred by the cheaper patriotic prints from one + iron-fisted colonel and an unbending adjutant. He would go to the mines if + need be to teach his gospel. And he went, as his instructions advised, p. + d. q.—which means “with speed”—to introduce embarrassment into + an Irish regiment, “already half-mutinous, quartered among Sikh peasantry, + all wearing miniatures of His Highness Dhulip Singh, Maharaja of the + Punjab, next their hearts, and all eagerly expecting his arrival.” Other + information equally valuable was given him by his masters. He was to be + cautious, but never to grudge expense in winning the hearts of the men in + the regiment. His mother in New York would supply funds, and he was to + write to her once a month. Life is pleasant for a man who has a mother in + New York to send him two hundred pounds a year over and above his + regimental pay. + </p> + <p> + In process of time, thanks to his intimate knowledge of drill and musketry + exercise, the excellent Mulcahy, wearing the corporal's stripe, went out + in a troopship and joined Her Majesty's Royal Loyal Musketeers, commonly + known as the “Mavericks,” because they were masterless and unbranded + cattle—sons of small farmers in County Clare, shoeless vagabonds of + Kerry, herders of Ballyvegan, much wanted “moonlighters” from the bare + rainy headlands of the south coast, officered by O'Mores, Bradys, Hills, + Kilreas, and the like. Never to outward seeming was there more promising + material to work on. The First Three had chosen their regiment well. It + feared nothing that moved or talked save the colonel and the regimental + Roman Catholic chaplain, the fat Father Dennis, who held the keys of + heaven and hell, and blared like an angry bull when he desired to be + convincing. Him also it loved because on occasions of stress he was used + to tuck up his cassock and charge with the rest into the merriest of the + fray, where he always found, good man, that the saints sent him a revolver + when there was a fallen private to be protected, or—but this came as + an afterthought his own gray head to be guarded. + </p> + <p> + Cautiously as he had been instructed, tenderly and with much beer, Mulcahy + opened his projects to such as he deemed fittest to listen. And these + were, one and all, of that quaint, crooked, sweet, profoundly + irresponsible and profoundly lovable race that fight like fiends, argue + like children, reason like women, obey like men, and jest like their own + goblins of the rath through rebellion, loyalty, want, woe, or war. The + underground work of a conspiracy is always dull and very much the same the + world over. At the end of six months—the seed always falling on good + ground—Mulcahy spoke almost explicitly, hinting darkly in the + approved fashion at dread powers behind him, and advising nothing more nor + less than mutiny. Were they not dogs, evilly treated? had they not all + their own and their national revenges to satisfy? Who in these days would + do aught to nine hundred men in rebellion? Who, again, could stay them if + they broke for the sea, licking up on their way other regiments only too + anxious to join? And afterwards... here followed windy promises of gold + and preferment, office and honour, ever dear to a certain type of + Irishman. + </p> + <p> + As he finished his speech, in the dusk of a twilight, to his chosen + associates, there was a sound of a rapidly unslung belt behind him. The + arm of one Dan Grady flew out in the gloom and arrested something. Then + said Dan— + </p> + <p> + “Mulcahy, you're a great man, an' you do credit to whoever sent you. Walk + about a bit while we think of it.” Mulcahy departed elate. He knew his + words would sink deep. + </p> + <p> + “Why the triple-dashed asterisks did ye not let me belt him'?” grunted a + voice. + </p> + <p> + “Because I'm not a fat-headed fool. Boys, 'tis what he's been driving at + these six months—our superior corp'ril with his education and his + copies of the Irish papers and his everlasting beer. He's been sent for + the purpose, and that's where the money comes from. Can ye not see? That + man's a gold-mine, which Horse Egan here would have destroyed with a + belt-buckle. It would be throwing away the gifts of Providence not to fall + in with his little plans. Of coorse we'll mut'ny till all's dry. Shoot the + colonel on the parade-ground, massacree the company officers, ransack the + arsenal, and then—Boys, did he tell you what next? He told me the + other night when he was beginning to talk wild. Then we're to join with + the niggers, and look for help from Dhulip Singh and the Russians!” + </p> + <p> + “And spoil the best campaign that ever was this side of Hell! Danny, I'd + have lost the beer to ha' given him the belting he requires.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, let him go this awhile, man! He's got no—no constructiveness, + but that's the egg-meat of his plan, and you must understand that I'm in + with it, an' so are you. We'll want oceans of beer to convince us—firmaments + full. We'll give him talk for his money, and one by one all the boys'll + come in and he'll have a nest of nine hundred mutineers to squat in an' + give drink to.” + </p> + <p> + “What makes me killing-mad is his wanting us to do what the niggers did + thirty years gone. That an' his pig's cheek in saying that other regiments + would come along,” said a Kerry man. + </p> + <p> + “That's not so bad as hintin' we should loose off on the colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “Colonel be sugared! I'd as soon as not put a shot through his helmet to + see him jump and clutch his old horse's head. But Mulcahy talks o' + shootin' our comp'ny orf'cers accidental.” + </p> + <p> + “He said that, did he?” said Horse Egan. + </p> + <p> + “Somethin' like that, anyways. Can't ye fancy ould Barber Brady wid a + bullet in his lungs, coughin' like a sick monkey, an' sayin', 'Bhoys, I do + not mind your gettin' dhrunk, but you must hould your liquor like men. The + man that shot me is dhrunk. I'll suspend investigations for six hours, + while I get this bullet cut out, and then—'” + </p> + <p> + “'An' then,” continued Horse Egan, for the peppery Major's peculiarities + of speech and manner were as well known as his tanned face; “'an' then, ye + dissolute, half-baked, putty-faced scum o' Connemara, if I find a man so + much as lookin' confused, begad, I'll coort-martial the whole company. A + man that can't get over his liquor in six hours is not fit to belong to + the Mavericks!'” + </p> + <p> + A shout of laughter bore witness to the truth of the sketch. + </p> + <p> + “It's pretty to think of,” said the Kerry man slowly. “Mulcahy would have + us do all the devilmint, and get clear himself, someways. He wudn't be + takin' all this fool's throuble in shpoilin' the reputation of the + regimint—” + </p> + <p> + “Reputation of your grandmother's pig!” said Dan. + </p> + <p> + “Well, an' he had a good reputation tu; so it's all right. Mulcahy must + see his way to clear out behind him, or he'd not ha' come so far, talkin' + powers of darkness.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you hear anything of a regimental coortmartial among the Black + Boneens, these days? Half a company of 'em took one of the new draft an' + hanged him by his arms with a tent-rope from a third-story verandah. They + gave no reason for so doin', but he was half dead. I'm thinking that the + Boneens are short-sighted. It was a friend of Mulcahy's, or a man in the + same trade. They'd a deal better ha' taken his beer,” returned Dan + reflectively. + </p> + <p> + “Better still ha' handed him up to the Colonel,” said Horse Egan, “onless—but + sure the news wud be all over the counthry an' give the reg'ment a bad + name.” + </p> + <p> + “An' there'd be no reward for that man—he but went about talkin',” + said the Kerry man artlessly. + </p> + <p> + “You speak by your breed,” said Dan, with a laugh. “There was never a + Kerry man yet that wudn't sell his brother for a pipe o' tobacco an' a pat + on the back from a p'liceman.” + </p> + <p> + “Praise God I'm not a bloomin' Orangeman,” was the answer. + </p> + <p> + “No, nor never will be,” said Dan. “They breed men in Ulster. Would you + like to thry the taste of one?” + </p> + <p> + The Kerry man looked and longed, but forbore. The odds of battle were too + great. “Then you'll not even give Mulcahy a—a strike for his money,” + said the voice of Horse Egan, who regarded what he called “trouble” of any + kind as the pinnacle of felicity. + </p> + <p> + Dan answered not at all, but crept on tip-toe, with long strides, to the + mess-room, the men following. The room was empty. In a corner, cased like + the King of Dahomey's state umbrella, stood the regimental Colours. Dan + lifted them tenderly and unrolled in the light of the candles the record + of the Mavericks—tattered, worn, and hacked. The white satin was + darkened everywhere with big brown stains, the gold threads on the crowned + harp were frayed and discoloured, and the Red Bull, the totem of the + Mavericks, was coffee-hued. The stiff, embroidered folds, whose price is + human life, rustled down slowly. The Mavericks keep their colours long and + guard them very sacredly. + </p> + <p> + “Vittoria, Salamanca, Toulouse, Waterloo, Moodkee, Ferozshah, an' Sobraon—that + was fought close next door here, against the very beggars he wants us to + join. Inkerman, The Alma, Sebastopol! 'What are those little businesses + compared to the campaigns of General Mulcahy? The Mut'ny, think o' that; + the Mut'ny an' some dirty little matters in Afghanistan; an' for that an' + these an' those”—Dan pointed to the names of glorious battles—“that + Yankee man with the partin' in his hair comes an' says as easy as 'have a + drink'... Holy Moses, there's the captain!” + </p> + <p> + But it was the mess-sergeant who came in just as the men clattered out, + and found the colours uncased. + </p> + <p> + From that day dated the mutiny of the Mavericks, to the joy of Mulcahy and + the pride of his mother in New York—the good lady who sent the money + for the beer. Never, so far as words went, was such a mutiny. The + conspirators, led by Dan Grady and Horse Egan, poured in daily. They were + sound men, men to be trusted, and they all wanted blood; but first they + must have beer. They cursed the Queen, they mourned over Ireland, they + suggested hideous plunder of the Indian country-side, and then, alas—some + of the younger men would go forth and wallow on the ground in spasms of + wicked laughter The genius of the Irish for conspiracies is remarkable. + None the less they would swear no oaths but those of their own making, + which were rare and curious, and they were always at pains to impress + Mulcahy with the risks they ran. Naturally the flood of beer wrought + demoralisation. But Mulcahy confused the causes of things, and when a very + muzzy Maverick smote a sergeant on the nose or called his commanding + officer a bald-headed old lard-bladder and even worse names, he fancied + that rebellion and not liquor was at the bottom of the outbreak. Other + gentlemen who have concerned themselves in larger conspiracies have made + the same error. + </p> + <p> + The hot season, in which they protested no man could rebel, came to an + end, and Mulcahy suggested a visible return for his teachings. As to the + actual upshot of the mutiny he cared nothing. It would be enough if the + English, infatuatedly trusting to the integrity of their army, should be + startled with news of an Irish regiment revolting from political + considerations. His persistent demands would have ended, at Dan's + instigation, in a regimental belting which in all probability would have + killed him and cut off the supply of beer, had not he been sent on special + duty some fifty miles away from the Cantonment to cool his heels in a mud + fort and dismount obsolete artillery. Then the colonel of the Mavericks, + reading his newspaper diligently, and scenting Frontier trouble from afar, + posted to the army headquarters and pled with the Commander-in-chief for + certain privileges, to be granted under certain contingencies; which + contingencies came about only a week later, when the annual little war on + the border developed itself and the colonel returned to carry the good + news to the Mavericks. He held the promise of the Chief for active + service, and the men must get ready. + </p> + <p> + On the evening of the same day, Mulcahy, an unconsidered corporal—yet + great in conspiracy—returned to cantonments, and heard sounds of + strife and howlings from afar off. The mutiny had broken out and the + barracks of the Mavericks were one white-washed pandemonium. A private + tearing through the barrack-square, gasped in his ear, “Service! Active + service. It's a burnin' shame.” Oh joy, the Mavericks had risen on the eve + of battle! They would not—noble and loyal sons of Ireland—serve + the Queen longer. The news would flash through the country-side and over + to England, and he—Mulcahy—the trusted of the Third Three, had + brought about the crash. The private stood in the middle of the square and + cursed colonel, regiment, officers, and doctor, particularly the doctor, + by his gods. An orderly of the native cavalry regiment clattered through + the mob of soldiers. He was half lifted, half dragged from his horse, + beaten on the back with mighty hand-claps till his eyes watered, and + called all manner of endearing names. Yes, the Mavericks had fraternized + with the native troops. Who then was the agent among the latter that had + blindly wrought with Mulcahy so well? + </p> + <p> + An officer slunk, almost ran, from the mess to a barrack. He was mobbed by + the infuriated soldiery, who closed round but did not kill him, for he + fought his way to shelter, flying for the life. Mulcahy could have wept + with pure joy and thankfulness. The very prisoners in the guard-room were + shaking the bars of their cells and howling like wild beasts, and from + every barrack poured the booming as of a big war-drum. + </p> + <p> + Mulcahy hastened to his own barrack. He could hardly hear himself speak. + Eighty men were pounding with fist and heel the tables and trestles—eighty + men, flushed with mutiny, stripped to their shirt sleeves, their knapsacks + half-packed for the march to the sea, made the two-inch boards thunder + again as they chanted, to a tune that Mulcahy knew well, the Sacred War + Song of the Mavericks— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Listen in the north, my boys, there's trouble on the wind; + Tramp o' Cossack hooves in front, gray great-coats behind, + Trouble on the Frontier of a most amazin' kind, + Trouble on the waters o' the Oxus! +</pre> + <p> + Then, as the table broke under the furious accompaniment— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Hurrah! hurrah! it's north by west we go; + Hurrah! hurrah! the chance we wanted so; + Let 'em hear the chorus from Umballa to Moscow, + As we go marchin' to the Kremling. +</pre> + <p> + “Mother of all the saints in bliss and all the devils in cinders, where's + my fine new sock widout the heel?” howled Horse Egan, ransacking + everybody's valise but his own. He was engaged in making up deficiencies + of kit preparatory to a campaign, and in that work he steals best who + steals last. “Ah, Mulcahy, you're in good time,” he shouted, “We've got + the route, and we're off on Thursday for a pic-nic wid the Lancers next + door.” + </p> + <p> + An ambulance orderly appeared with a huge basket full of lint rolls, + provided by the forethought of the Queen for such as might need them later + on. Horse Egan unrolled his bandage, and flicked it under Mulcahy's nose, + chanting— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Sheepskin an' bees' wax, thunder, pitch, and plaster, + The more you try to pull it off, the more it sticks the faster. + As I was goin' to New Orleans— +</pre> + <p> + “You know the rest of it, my Irish American-Jew boy. By gad, ye have to + fight for the Queen in the inside av a fortnight, my darlin.” + </p> + <p> + A roar of laughter interrupted. Mulcahy looked vacantly down the room. Bid + a boy defy his father when the pantomime-cab is at the door, or a girl + develop a will of her own when her mother is putting the last touches to + the first ball-dress, but do not ask an Irish regiment to embark upon + mutiny on the eve of a campaign, when it has fraternised with the native + regiment that accompanies it, and driven its officers into retirement with + ten thousand clamorous questions, and the prisoners dance for joy, and the + sick men stand in the open calling down all known diseases on the head of + the doctor, who has certified that they are “medically unfit for active + service.” At even the Mavericks might have been mistaken for mutineers by + one so unversed in their natures as Mulcahy. At dawn a girls' school might + have learned deportment from them. They knew that their colonel's hand had + closed, and that he who broke that iron discipline would not go to the + front: nothing in the world will persuade one of our soldiers, when he is + ordered to the north on the smallest of affairs, that he is not + immediately going gloriously to slay Cossacks and cook his kettles in the + palace of the Czar. A few of the younger men mourned for Mulcahy's beer, + because the campaign was to be conducted on strict temperance principles, + but as Dan and Horse Egan said sternly, “We've got the beer-man with us. + He shall drink now on his own hook.” + </p> + <p> + Mulcahy had not taken into account the possibility of being sent on active + service. He had made up his mind that he would not go under any + circumstances, but fortune was against him. + </p> + <p> + “Sick-you?” said the doctor, who had served an unholy apprenticeship to + his trade in Tralee poorhouses. “You're only home-sick, and what you call + varicose veins come from over-eating. A little gentle exercise will cure + that.” And later, “Mulcahy, my man, everybody is allowed to apply for a + sick-certificate once. If he tries it twice we call him by an ugly name. + Go back to your duty, and let's hear no more of your diseases.” + </p> + <p> + I am ashamed to say that Horse Egan enjoyed the study of Mulcahy's soul in + those days, and Dan took an equal interest. Together they would + communicate to their corporal all the dark lore of death which is the + portion of those who have seen men die. Egan had the larger experience, + but Dan the finer imagination. Mulcahy shivered when the former spoke of + the knife as an intimate acquaintance, or the latter dwelt with loving + particularity on the fate of those who, wounded and helpless, had been + overlooked by the ambulances, and had fallen into the hands of the Afghan + women-folk. + </p> + <p> + Mulcahy knew that the mutiny, for the present at least, was dead; knew, + too, that a change had come over Dan's usually respectful attitude towards + him, and Horse Egan's laughter and frequent allusions to abortive + conspiracies emphasised all that the conspirator had guessed. The horrible + fascination of the death-stories, however, made him seek the men's + society. He learned much more than he had bargained for; and in this + manner. It was on the last night before the regiment entrained to the + front. The barracks were stripped of everything movable, and the men were + too excited to sleep. The bare walls gave out a heavy hospital smell of + chloride of lime. + </p> + <p> + “And what,” said Mulcahy in an awe-stricken whisper, after some + conversation on the eternal subject, “are you going to do to me, Dan?” + This might have been the language of an able conspirator conciliating a + weak spirit. + </p> + <p> + “You'll see,” said Dan grimly, turning over in his cot, “or I rather shud + say you'll not see.” + </p> + <p> + This was hardly the language of a weak spirit. Mulcahy shook under the + bed-clothes. + </p> + <p> + “Be easy with him,” put in Egan from the next cot. “He has got his chanst + o' goin' clean. Listen, Mulcahy, all we want is for the good sake of the + regiment that you take your death standing up, as a man shud. There's be + heaps an' heaps of enemy—plenshus heaps. Go there an' do all you can + and die decent. You'll die with a good name there. 'Tis not a hard thing + considerin'.” + </p> + <p> + Again Mulcahy shivered. + </p> + <p> + “An' how could a man wish to die better than fightin'?” added Dan + consolingly. + </p> + <p> + “And if I won't?” said the corporal in a dry whisper. + </p> + <p> + “There'll be a dale of smoke,” returned Dan, sitting up and ticking off + the situation on his fingers, “sure to be, an' the noise of the firin'll + be tremenjus, an' we'll be running about up and down, the regiment will. + But we, Horse and I—we'll stay by you, Mulcahy, and never let you + go. Maybe there'll be an accident.” + </p> + <p> + “It's playing it low on me. Let me go. For pity's sake, let me go. I never + did you harm, and—and I stood you as much beer as I could. Oh, don't + be hard on me, Dan! You are—you were in it too. You won't kill me up + there, will you?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not thinkin' of the treason; though you shud be glad any honest boys + drank with you. It's for the regiment. We can't have the shame o' you + bringin' shame on us. You went to the doctor quiet as a sick cat to get + and stay behind an' live with the women at the depot—you that wanted + us to run to the sea in wolf-packs like the rebels none of your black + blood dared to be! But we knew about your goin' to the doctor, for he told + in mess, and it's all over the regiment. Bein', as we are, your best + friends, we didn't allow any one to molest you yet. We will see to you + ourselves. Fight which you will—us or the enemy you'll never lie in + that cot again, and there's more glory and maybe less kicks from fightin' + the enemy. That's fair speakin'.” + </p> + <p> + “And he told us by word of mouth to go and join with the niggers—you've + forgotten that, Dan,” said Horse Egan, to justify sentence. + </p> + <p> + “What's the use of plaguin' the man? One shot pays for all. Sleep ye + sound, Mulcahy. But you onderstand, do ye not?” + </p> + <p> + Mulcahy for some weeks understood very little of anything at all save that + ever at his elbow, in camp or at parade, stood two big men with soft + voices adjuring him to commit hari-kari lest a worse thing should happen—to + die for the honour of the regiment in decency among the nearest knives. + But Mulcahy dreaded death. He remembered certain things that priests had + said in his infancy, and his mother—not the one at New York—starting + from her sleep with shrieks to pray for a husband's soul in torment. It is + well to be of a cultured intelligence, but in time of trouble the weak + human mind returns to the creed it sucked in at the breast, and if that + creed be not a pretty one trouble follows. Also, the death he would have + to face would be physically painful. Most conspirators have large + imaginations. Mulcahy could see himself, as he lay on the earth in the + night, dying by various causes. They were all horrible; the mother in New + York was very far away, and the Regiment, the engine that, once you fall + in its grip, moves you forward whether you will or won't, was daily coming + closer to the enemy! + </p> + <p> + They were brought to the field of Marzun Katai, and with the Black Boneens + to aid, they fought a fight that has never been set down in the + newspapers. In response, many believe, to the fervent prayers of Father + Dennis, the enemy not only elected to fight in the open, but made a + beautiful fight, as many weeping Irish mothers knew later. They gathered + behind walls or flickered across the open in shouting masses, and were + pot-valiant in artillery. It was expedient to hold a large reserve and + wait for the psychological moment that was being prepared by the shrieking + shrapnel. Therefore the Mavericks lay down in open order on the brow of a + hill to watch the play till their call should come. Father Dennis, whose + duty was in the rear, to smooth the trouble of the wounded, had naturally + managed to make his way to the foremost of his boys, and lay like a black + porpoise, at length on the grass. To him crawled Mulcahy, ashen-gray, + demanding absolution. + </p> + <p> + “'Wait till you're shot,” said Father Dennis sweetly. “There's a time for + everything.” + </p> + <p> + Dan Grady chuckled as he blew for the fiftieth time into the breech of his + speckless rifle. Mulcahy groaned and buried his head in his arms till a + stray shot spoke like a snipe immediately above his head, and a general + heave and tremour rippled the line. Other shots followed and a few took + effect, as a shriek or a grunt attested. The officers, who had been lying + down with the men, rose and began to walk steadily up and down the front + of their companies. + </p> + <p> + This manoeuvre, executed, not for publication, but as a guarantee of good + faith, to soothe men, demands nerve. You must not hurry, you must not look + nervous, though you know that you are a mark for every rifle within + extreme range, and above all if you are smitten you must make as little + noise as possible and roll inwards through the files. It is at this hour, + when the breeze brings the first salt whiff of the powder to noses rather + cold at the tip, and the eye can quietly take in the appearance of each + red casualty, that the strain on the nerves is strongest. Scotch regiments + can endure for half a day and abate no whit of their zeal at the end; + English regiments sometimes sulk under punishment, while the Irish, like + the French, are apt to run forward by ones and twos, which is just as bad + as running back. The truly wise commandant of highly-strung troops allows + them, in seasons of waiting, to hear the sound of their own voices + uplifted in song. There is a legend of an English regiment that lay by its + arms under fire chaunting “Sam Hall,” to the horror of its newly appointed + and pious colonel. The Black Boneens, who were suffering more than the + Mavericks, on a hill half a mile away, began presently to explain to all + who cared to listen— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We'll sound the jubilee, from the centre to the sea, + And Ireland shall be free, says the Shan-van Vogh. +</pre> + <p> + “Sing, boys,” said Father Dennis softly. “It looks as if we cared for + their Afghan peas.” + </p> + <p> + Dan Grady raised himself to his knees and opened his mouth in a song + imparted to him, as to most of his comrades, in the strictest confidence + by Mulcahy—that Mulcahy then lying limp and fainting on the grass, + the chill fear of death upon him. + </p> + <p> + Company after company caught up the words which, the I. A. A. say, are to + herald the general rising of Erin, and to breathe which, except to those + duly appointed to hear, is death. Wherefore they are printed in this + place. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Saxon in Heaven's just balance is weighed, + His doom like Belshazzar's in death has been cast, + And the hand of the venger shall never be stayed + Till his race, faith, and speech are a dream of the past. +</pre> + <p> + They were heart-filling lines and they ran with a swirl; the I. A. A. are + better served by their pens than their petards. Dan clapped Mulcahy + merrily on the back, asking him to sing up. The officers lay down again. + There was no need to walk any more. Their men were soothing themselves + thunderously, thus— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + St. Mary in Heaven has written the vow + That the land shall not rest till the heretic blood, + From the babe at the breast to the hand at the plough, + Has rolled to the ocean like Shannon in flood! +</pre> + <p> + “I'll speak to you after all's over,” said Father Dennis authoritatively + in Dan's ear. “What's the use of confessing to me when you do this + foolishness? Dan, you've been playing with fire! I'll lay you more penance + in a week than—” + </p> + <p> + “Come along to Purgatory with us, Father dear. The Boneens are on the + move; they'll let us go now!” + </p> + <p> + The regiment rose to the blast of the bugle as one man; but one man there + was who rose more swiftly than all the others, for half an inch of bayonet + was in the fleshy part of his leg. + </p> + <p> + “You've got to do it,” said Dan grimly. “Do it decent, anyhow;” and the + roar of the rush drowned his words, for the rear companies thrust forward + the first, still singing as they swung down the slope— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + From the child at the breast to the hand at the plough + Shall roll to the ocean like Shannon in flood! +</pre> + <p> + They should have sung it in the face of England, not of the Afghans, whom + it impressed as much as did the wild Irish yell. + </p> + <p> + “They came down singing,” said the unofficial report of the enemy, borne + from village to village the next day. “They continued to sing, and it was + written that our men could not abide when they came. It is believed that + there was magic in the aforesaid song.” + </p> + <p> + Dan and Horse Egan kept themselves in the neighbourhood of Mulcahy. Twice + the man would have bolted back in the confusion. Twice he was heaved, + kicked, and shouldered back again into the unpaintable inferno of a hotly + contested charge. + </p> + <p> + At the end, the panic excess of his fear drove him into madness beyond all + human courage. His eyes staring at nothing, his mouth open and frothing, + and breathing as one in a cold bath, he went forward demented, while Dan + toiled after him. The charge checked at a high mud wall. It was Mulcahy + who scrambled up tooth and nail and hurled down among the bayonets the + amazed Afghan who barred his way. It was Mulcahy, keeping to the straight + line of the rabid dog, who led a collection of ardent souls at a newly + unmasked battery and flung himself on the muzzle of a gun as his + companions danced among the gunners. It was Mulcahy who ran wildly on from + that battery into the open plain, where the enemy were retiring in sullen + groups. His hands were empty, he had lost helmet and belt, and he was + bleeding from a wound in the neck. Dan and Horse Egan, panting and + distressed, had thrown themselves down on the ground by the captured guns, + when they noticed Mulcahy's charge. + </p> + <p> + “Mad,” said Horse Egan critically. “Mad with fear! He's going straight to + his death, an' shouting's no use.” + </p> + <p> + “Let him go. Watch now! If we fire we'll hit him maybe.” + </p> + <p> + The last of a hurrying crowd of Afghans turned at the noise of shod feet + behind him, and shifted his knife ready to hand. This, he saw, was no time + to take prisoners. Mulcahy tore on, sobbing; the straight-held blade went + home through the defenceless breast, and the body pitched forward almost + before a shot from Dan's rifle brought down the slayer and still further + hurried the Afghan retreat. The two Irishmen went out to bring in their + dead. + </p> + <p> + “He was given the point, and that was an easy death,” said Horse Egan, + viewing the corpse. “But would you ha' shot him, Danny, if he had lived?” + </p> + <p> + “He didn't live, so there's no sayin'. But I doubt I wud have bekaze of + the fun he gave us—let alone the beer. Hike up his legs, Horse, and + we'll bring him in. Perhaps 'tis better this way.” + </p> + <p> + They bore the poor limp body to the mass of the regiment, lolling + open-mouthed on their rifles; and there was a general snigger when one of + the younger subalterns said, “That was a good man!” + </p> + <p> + “Phew,” said Horse Egan, when a burial-party had taken over the burden. + “I'm powerful dhry, and this reminds me there'll be no more beer at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Fwhy not?” said Dan, with a twinkle in his eye as he stretched himself + for rest. “Are we not conspirin' all we can, an' while we conspire are we + not entitled to free dhrinks? Sure his ould mother in New York would not + let her son's comrades perish of drouth—if she can be reached at the + end of a letter.” + </p> + <p> + “You're a janius,” said Horse Egan. “0' coorse she will not. I wish this + crool war was over, an' we'd get back to canteen. Faith, the + Commander-in-chief ought to be hanged in his own little sword-belt for + makin' us work on wather.” + </p> + <p> + The Mavericks were generally of Horse Egan's opinion. So they made haste + to get their work done as soon as possible, and their industry was + rewarded by unexpected peace. “We can fight the sons of Adam,” said the + tribesmen, “but we cannot fight the sons of Eblis, and this regiment never + stays still in one place. Let us therefore come in.” They came in, and + “this regiment” withdrew to conspire under the leadership of Dan Grady. + </p> + <p> + Excellent as a subordinate, Dan failed altogether as a chief-in-command—possibly + because he was too much swayed by the advice of the only man in the + regiment who could manufacture more than one kind of handwriting. The same + mail that bore to Mulcahy's mother in New York a letter from the colonel + telling her how valiantly her son had fought for the Queen, and how + assuredly he would have been recommended for the Victoria Cross had he + survived, carried a communication signed, I grieve to say, by that same + colonel and all the officers of the regiment, explaining their willingness + to do “anything which is contrary to the regulations and all kinds of + revolutions” if only a little money could be forwarded to cover incidental + expenses. Daniel Grady, Esquire, would receive funds, vice Mulcahy, who + “was unwell at this present time of writing.” + </p> + <p> + Both letters were forwarded from New York to Tehama Street, San Francisco, + with marginal comments as brief as they were bitter. The Third Three read + and looked at each other. Then the Second Conspirator—he who + believed in “joining hands with the practical branches”—began to + laugh, and on recovering his gravity said, “Gentlemen, I consider this + will be a lesson to us. We're left again. Those cursed Irish have let us + down. I knew they would, but”—here he laughed afresh—“I'd give + considerable to know what was at the back of it all.” + </p> + <p> + His curiosity would have been satisfied had he seen Dan Grady, discredited + regimental conspirator, trying to explain to his thirsty comrades in India + the non-arrival of funds from New York. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE MAN WHO WAS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Earth gave up her dead that tide, + Into our camp he came, + And said his say, and went his way, + And left our hearts aflame. + + Keep tally—on the gun-butt score + The vengeance we must take, + When God shall bring full reckoning, + For our dead comrade's sake. + + Ballad. +</pre> + <p> + Let it be clearly understood that the Russian is a delightful person till + he tucks in his shirt. As an Oriental he is charming. It is only when he + insists upon being treated as the most easterly of western peoples instead + of the most westerly of easterns that he becomes a racial anomaly + extremely difficult to handle. The host never knows which side of his + nature is going to turn up next. + </p> + <p> + Dirkovitch was a Russian—a Russian of the Russians—who + appeared to get his bread by serving the Czar as an officer in a Cossack + regiment, and corresponding for a Russian newspaper with a name that was + never twice alike. He was a handsome young Oriental, fond of wandering + through unexplored portions of the earth, and he arrived in India from + nowhere in particular. At least no living man could ascertain whether it + was by way of Balkh, Badakshan, Chitral, Beluchistan, or Nepaul, or + anywhere else. The Indian Government, being in an unusually affable mood, + gave orders that he was to be civilly treated and shown everything that + was to be seen. So he drifted, talking bad English and worse French, from + one city to another, till he foregathered with Her Majesty's White Hussars + in the city of Peshawur, which stands at the mouth of that narrow swordcut + in the hills that men call the Khyber Pass. He was undoubtedly an officer, + and he was decorated after the manner of the Russians with little + enamelled crosses, and he could talk, and (though this has nothing to do + with his merits) he had been given up as a hopeless task, or cask, by the + Black Tyrone, who individually and collectively, with hot whiskey and + honey, mulled brandy, and mixed spirits of every kind, had striven in all + hospitality to make him drunk. And when the Black Tyrone, who are + exclusively Irish, fail to disturb the peace of head of a foreigner—that + foreigner is certain to be a superior man. + </p> + <p> + The White Hussars were as conscientious in choosing their wine as in + charging the enemy. All that they possessed, including some wondrous + brandy, was placed at the absolute disposition of Dirkovitch, and he + enjoyed himself hugely—even more than among the Black Tyrones. + </p> + <p> + But he remained distressingly European through it all. The White Hussars + were “My dear true friends,” “Fellow-soldiers glorious,” and “Brothers + inseparable.” He would unburden himself by the hour on the glorious future + that awaited the combined arms of England and Russia when their hearts and + their territories should run side by side, and the great mission of + civilising Asia should begin. That was unsatisfactory, because Asia is not + going to be civilised after the methods of the West. There is too much + Asia and she is too old. You cannot reform a lady of many lovers, and Asia + has been insatiable in her flirtations aforetime. She will never attend + Sunday-school or learn to vote save with swords for tickets. + </p> + <p> + Dirkovitch knew this as well as any one else, but it suited him to talk + special-correspondently and to make himself as genial as he could. Now and + then he volunteered a little, a very little, information about his own + sotnia of Cossacks, left apparently to look after themselves somewhere at + the back of beyond. He had done rough work in Central Asia, and had seen + rather more help-yourself fighting than most men of his years. But he was + careful never to betray his superiority, and more than careful to praise + on all occasions the appearance, drill, uniform, and organisation of Her + Majesty's White Hussars. And indeed they were a regiment to be admired. + When Lady Durgan, widow of the late Sir John Durgan, arrived in their + station, and after a short time had been proposed to by every single man + at mess, she put the public sentiment very neatly when she explained that + they were all so nice that unless she could marry them all, including the + colonel and some majors already married, she was not going to content + herself with one hussar. Wherefore she wedded a little man in a rifle + regiment, being by nature contradictious; and the White Hussars were going + to wear crape on their arms, but compromised by attending the wedding in + full force, and lining the aisle with unutterable reproach. She had jilted + them all—from Basset-Holmer the senior captain to little Mildred the + junior subaltern, who could have given her four thousand a year and a + title. + </p> + <p> + The only persons who did not share the general regard for the White + Hussars were a few thousand gentlemen of Jewish extraction who lived + across the border, and answered to the name of Pathan. They had once met + the regiment officially and for something less than twenty minutes, but + the interview, which was complicated with many casualties, had filled them + with prejudice. They even called the White Hussars children of the devil + and sons of persons whom it would be perfectly impossible to meet in + decent society. Yet they were not above making their aversion fill their + money-belts. The regiment possessed carbines—beautiful Martini-Henry + carbines that would lob a bullet into an enemy's camp at one thousand + yards, and were even handier than the long rifle. Therefore they were + coveted all along the border, and since demand inevitably breeds supply, + they were supplied at the risk of life and limb for exactly their weight + in coined silver—seven and one half pounds' weight of rupees, or + sixteen pounds sterling reckoning the rupee at par. They were stolen at + night by snaky-haired thieves who crawled on their stomachs under the nose + of the sentries; they disappeared mysteriously from locked arm-racks, and + in the hot weather, when all the barrack doors and windows were open, they + vanished like puffs of their own smoke. The border people desired them for + family vendettas and contingencies. But in the long cold nights of the + northern Indian winter they were stolen most extensively. The traffic of + murder was liveliest among the hills at that season, and prices ruled + high. The regimental guards were first doubled and then trebled. A trooper + does not much care if he loses a weapon—Government must make it good—but + he deeply resents the loss of his sleep. The regiment grew very angry, and + one rifle-thief bears the visible marks of their anger upon him to this + hour. That incident stopped the burglaries for a time, and the guards were + reduced accordingly, and the regiment devoted itself to polo with + unexpected results; for it beat by two goals to one that very terrible + polo corps the Lushkar Light Horse, though the latter had four ponies + apiece for a short hour's fight, as well as a native officer who played + like a lambent flame across the ground. + </p> + <p> + They gave a dinner to celebrate the event. The Lushkar team came, and + Dirkovitch came, in the fullest full uniform of a Cossack officer, which + is as full as a dressing-gown, and was introduced to the Lushkars, and + opened his eyes as he regarded. They were lighter men than the Hussars, + and they carried themselves with the swing that is the peculiar right of + the Punjab Frontier Force and all Irregular Horse. Like everything else in + the Service it has to be learnt, but, unlike many things, it is never + forgotten, and remains on the body till death. + </p> + <p> + The great beam-roofed mess-room of the White Hussars was a sight to be + remembered. All the mess plate was out on the long table—the same + table that had served up the bodies of five officers after a forgotten + fight long and long ago—the dingy, battered standards faced the door + of entrance, clumps of winter-roses lay between the silver candlesticks, + and the portraits of eminent officers deceased looked down on their + successors from between the heads of sambhur, nilghai, markhor, and, pride + of all the mess, two grinning snow-leopards that had cost Basset-Holmer + four months' leave that he might have spent in England, instead of on the + road to Thibet and the daily risk of his life by ledge, snow-slide, and + grassy slope. + </p> + <p> + The servants in spotless white muslin and the crest of their regiments on + the brow of their turbans waited behind their masters, who were clad in + the scarlet and gold of the White Hussars, and the cream and silver of the + Lushkar Light Horse. Dirkovitch's dull green uniform was the only dark + spot at the board, but his big onyx eyes made up for it. He was + fraternising effusively with the captain of the Lushkar team, who was + wondering how many of Dirkovitch's Cossacks his own dark wiry + down-countrymen could account for in a fair charge. But one does not speak + of these things openly. + </p> + <p> + The talk rose higher and higher, and the regimental band played between + the courses, as is the immemorial custom, till all tongues ceased for a + moment with the removal of the dinner-slips and the first toast of + obligation, when an officer rising said, “Mr. Vice, the Queen,” and little + Mildred from the bottom of the table answered, “The Queen, God bless her,” + and the big spurs clanked as the big men heaved themselves up and drank + the Queen upon whose pay they were falsely supposed to settle their + mess-bills. That Sacrament of the Mess never grows old, and never ceases + to bring a lump into the throat of the listener wherever he be by sea or + by land. Dirkovitch rose with his “brothers glorious,” but he could not + understand. No one but an officer can tell what the toast means; and the + bulk have more sentiment than comprehension. Immediately after the little + silence that follows on the ceremony there entered the native officer who + had played for the Lushkar team. He could not, of course, eat with the + mess, but he came in at dessert, all six feet of him, with the blue and + silver turban atop, and the big black boots below. The mess rose joyously + as he thrust forward the hilt of his sabre in token of fealty for the + colonel of the White Hussars to touch, and dropped into a vacant chair + amid shouts of: “Rung ho, Hira Singh!” (which being translated means “Go + in and win”). “Did I whack you over the knee, old man?” “Ressaidar Sahib, + what the devil made you play that kicking pig of a pony in the last ten + minutes?” “Shabash, Ressaidar Sahib!” Then the voice of the colonel, “The + health of Ressaidar Hira Singh!” + </p> + <p> + After the shouting had died away Hira Singh rose to reply, for he was the + cadet of a royal house, the son of a king's son, and knew what was due on + these occasions. Thus he spoke in the vernacular:—“Colonel Sahib and + officers of this regiment. Much honour have you done me. This will I + remember. We came down from afar to play you. But we were beaten.” (“No + fault of yours, Ressaidar Sahib. Played on our own ground, y' know. Your + ponies were cramped from the railway. Don't apologise!”) “Therefore + perhaps we will come again if it be so ordained.” (“Hear! Hear! Hear, + indeed! Bravo! Hsh!”) “Then we will play you afresh” (“Happy to meet + you.”) “till there are left no feet upon our ponies. Thus far for sport.” + He dropped one hand on his sword-hilt and his eye wandered to Dirkovitch + lolling back in his chair. “But if by the will of God there arises any + other game which is not the polo game, then be assured, Colonel Sahib and + officers, that we will play it out side by side, though they,” again his + eye sought Dirkovitch, “though they, I say, have fifty ponies to our one + horse.” And with a deep-mouthed Rung ho! that sounded like a musket-butt + on flagstones he sat down amid leaping glasses. + </p> + <p> + Dirkovitch, who had devoted himself steadily to the brandy—the + terrible brandy aforementioned—did not understand, nor did the + expurgated translations offered to him at all convey the point. Decidedly + Hira Singh's was the speech of the evening, and the clamour might have + continued to the dawn had it not been broken by the noise of a shot + without that sent every man feeling at his defenseless left side. Then + there was a scuffle and a yell of pain. + </p> + <p> + “Carbine-stealing again!” said the adjutant, calmly sinking back in his + chair. “This comes of reducing the guards. I hope the sentries have killed + him.” + </p> + <p> + The feet of armed men pounded on the verandah flags, and it was as though + something was being dragged. + </p> + <p> + “Why don't they put him in the cells till the morning?” said the colonel + testily. “See if they've damaged him, sergeant.” + </p> + <p> + The mess sergeant fled out into the darkness and returned with two + troopers and a corporal, all very much perplexed. + </p> + <p> + “Caught a man stealin' carbines, sir,” said the corporal. “Leastways 'e + was crawlin' towards the barricks, sir, past the main road sentries, an' + the sentry 'e sez, sir—” + </p> + <p> + The limp heap of rags upheld by the three men groaned. Never was seen so + destitute and demoralised an Afghan. He was turbanless, shoeless, caked + with dirt, and all but dead with rough handling. Hira Singh started + slightly at the sound of the man's pain. Dirkovitch took another glass of + brandy. + </p> + <p> + “What does the sentry say?” said the colonel. + </p> + <p> + “Sez 'e speaks English, sir,” said the corporal. + </p> + <p> + “So you brought him into mess instead of handing him over to the sergeant! + If he spoke all the Tongues of the Pentecost you've no business—” + </p> + <p> + Again the bundle groaned and muttered. Little Mildred had risen from his + place to inspect. He jumped back as though he had been shot. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it would be better, sir, to send the men away,” said he to the + colonel, for he was a much privileged subaltern. He put his arms round the + rag-bound horror as he spoke, and dropped him into a chair. It may not + have been explained that the littleness of Mildred lay in his being six + feet four and big in proportion. The corporal seeing that an officer was + disposed to look after the capture, and that the colonel's eye was + beginning to blaze, promptly removed himself and his men. The mess was + left alone with the carbine-thief, who laid his head on the table and wept + bitterly, hopelessly, and inconsolably as little children weep. + </p> + <p> + Hira Singh leapt to his feet. “Colonel Sahib,” said he, “that man is no + Afghan, for they weep Ai! Ai! Nor is he of Hindustan, for they weep Oh! + Ho! He weeps after the fashion of the white men, who say Ow! Ow!” + </p> + <p> + “Now where the dickens did you get that knowledge, Hira Singh?” said the + captain of the Lushkar team. + </p> + <p> + “Hear him!” said Hira Singh simply, pointing at the crumpled figure that + wept as though it would never cease. + </p> + <p> + “He said, 'My God!” said little Mildred. “I heard him say it.” + </p> + <p> + The colonel and the mess-room looked at the man in silence. It is a + horrible thing to hear a man cry. A woman can sob from the top—of + her palate, or her lips, or anywhere else, but a man must cry from his + diaphragm, and it rends him to pieces. + </p> + <p> + “Poor devil!” said the colonel, coughing tremendously. “We ought to send + him to hospital. He's been man-handled.” + </p> + <p> + Now the adjutant loved his carbines. They were to him as his + grandchildren, the men standing in the first place. He grunted + rebelliously: “I can understand an Afghan stealing, because he's built + that way. But I can't understand his crying. That makes it worse.” + </p> + <p> + The brandy must have affected Dirkovitch, for he lay back in his chair and + stared at the ceiling. There was nothing special in the ceiling beyond a + shadow as of a huge black coffin. Owing to some peculiarity in the + construction of the mess-room, this shadow was always thrown when the + candles were lighted. It never disturbed the digestion of the White + Hussars. They were in fact rather proud of it. + </p> + <p> + “Is he going to cry all night?” said the colonel, “or are we supposed to + sit up with little Mildred's guest until he feels better?” + </p> + <p> + The man in the chair threw up his head and stared at the mess. “Oh, my + God!” he said, and every soul in the mess rose to his feet. Then the + Lushkar captain did a deed for which he ought to have been given the + Victoria Cross—distinguished gallantry in a fight against + overwhelming curiosity. He picked up his team with his eyes as the hostess + picks up the ladies at the opportune moment, and pausing only by the + colonel's chair to say, “This isn't our affair, you know, sir,” led them + into the verandah and the gardens. Hira Singh was the last to go, and he + looked at Dirkovitch. But Dirkovitch had departed into a brandy-paradise + of his own. His lips moved without sound and he was studying the coffin on + the ceiling. + </p> + <p> + “White—white all over,” said Basset-Holmer, the adjutant. “What a + pernicious renegade he must be! I wonder where he came from?” + </p> + <p> + The colonel shook the man gently by the arm, and “Who are you?” said he. + </p> + <p> + There was no answer. The man stared round the mess-room and smiled in the + colonel's face. Little Mildred, who was always more of a woman than a man + till “Boot and saddle” was sounded, repeated the question in a voice that + would have drawn confidences from a geyser. The man only smiled. + Dirkovitch at the far end of the table slid gently from his chair to the + floor. No son of Adam in this present imperfect world can mix the Hussars' + champagne with the Hussars' brandy by five and eight glasses of each + without remembering the pit whence he was digged and descending thither. + The band began to play the tune with which the White Hussars from the date + of their formation have concluded all their functions. They would sooner + be disbanded than abandon that tune; it is a part of their system. The man + straightened himself in his chair and drummed on the table with his + fingers. + </p> + <p> + “I don't see why we should entertain lunatics,” said the colonel. “Call a + guard and send him off to the cells. We'll look into the business in the + morning. Give him a glass of wine first, though.” + </p> + <p> + Little Mildred filled a sherry-glass with the brandy and thrust it over to + the man. He drank, and the tune rose louder, and he straightened himself + yet more. Then he put out his long-taloned hands to a piece of plate + opposite and fingered it lovingly. There was a mystery connected with that + piece of plate, in the shape of a spring which converted what was a + seven-branched candlestick, three springs on each side and one in the + middle, into a sort of wheel-spoke candelabrum. He found the spring, + pressed it, and laughed weakly. He rose from his chair and inspected a + picture on the wall, then moved on to another picture, the mess watching + him without a word. When he came to the mantelpiece he shook his head and + seemed distressed. A piece of plate representing a mounted hussar in full + uniform caught his eye. He pointed to it, and then to the mantelpiece with + inquiry in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What is it—Oh, what is it?” said little Mildred. Then as a mother + might speak to a child, “That is a horse. Yes, a horse.” + </p> + <p> + Very slowly came the answer in a thick, passionless guttural—“Yes, I—have + seen. But—where is the horse?” + </p> + <p> + You could have heard the hearts of the mess beating as the men drew back + to give the stranger full room in his wanderings. There was no question of + calling the guard. + </p> + <p> + Again he spoke—very slowly, “Where is our horse?” + </p> + <p> + There is but one horse in the White Hussars, and his portrait hangs + outside the door of the mess-room. He is the piebald drum-horse, the king + of the regimental band, that served the regiment for seven-and-thirty + years, and in the end was shot for old age. Half the mess tore the thing + down from its place and thrust it into the man's hands. He placed it above + the mantelpiece, it clattered on the ledge as his poor hands dropped it, + and he staggered towards the bottom of the table, falling into Mildred's + chair. Then all the men spoke to one another something after this fashion, + “The drum-horse hasn't hung over the mantelpiece since '67.” “How does he + know?” “Mildred, go and speak to him again.” “Colonel, what are you going + to do?” “Oh, dry up, and give the poor devil a chance to pull himself + together.” “It isn't possible anyhow. The man's a lunatic.” + </p> + <p> + Little Mildred stood at the colonel's side, talking in his ear. “Will you + be good enough to take your seats please, gentlemen!” he said, and the + mess dropped into the chairs. Only Dirkovitch's seat, next to little + Mildred's, was blank, and little Mildred himself had found Hira Singh's + place. The wide-eyed mess-sergeant filled the glasses in dead silence. + Once more the colonel rose, but his hand shook, and the port spilled on + the table as he looked straight at the man in little Mildred's chair and + said hoarsely, “Mr. Vice, the Queen.” There was a little pause, but the + man sprung to his feet and answered without hesitation, “The Queen, God + bless her!” and as he emptied the thin glass he snapped the shank between + his fingers. + </p> + <p> + Long and long ago, when the Empress of India was a young woman, and there + were no unclean ideals in the land, it was the custom of a few messes to + drink the Queen's toast in broken glass, to the vast delight of the + mess-contractors. The custom is now dead, because there is nothing to + break anything for, except now and again the word of a Government, and + that has been broken already. + </p> + <p> + “That settles it,” said the colonel, with a gasp. “He's not a sergeant. + What in the world is he?” + </p> + <p> + The entire mess echoed the word, and the volley of questions would have + scared any man. It was no wonder that the ragged, filthy invader could + only smile and shake his head. + </p> + <p> + From under the table, calm and smiling, rose Dirkovitch, who had been + roused from healthful slumber by feet upon his body. By the side of the + man he rose, and the man shrieked and grovelled. It was a horrible sight, + coming so swiftly upon the pride and glory of the toast that had brought + the strayed wits together. + </p> + <p> + Dirkovitch made no offer to raise him, but little Mildred heaved him up in + an instant. It is not good that a gentleman who can answer to the Queen's + toast should lie at the feet of a subaltern of Cossacks. + </p> + <p> + The hasty action tore the wretch's upper clothing nearly to the waist, and + his body was seamed with dry black scars. There is only one weapon in the + world that cuts in parallel lines, and it is neither the cane nor the cat. + Dirkovitch saw the marks, and the pupils of his eyes dilated. Also his + face changed. He said something that sounded like Shto ve takete, and the + man fawning answered, Chetyre. + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” said everybody together. + </p> + <p> + “His number. That is number four, you know.” Dirkovitch spoke very + thickly. + </p> + <p> + “What has a Queen's officer to do with a qualified number?” said the + Colonel, and an unpleasant growl ran round the table. + </p> + <p> + “How can I tell?” said the affable Oriental with a sweet smile. “He is a—how + you have it?—escape—run-a-way, from over there.” He nodded + towards the darkness of the night. + </p> + <p> + “Speak to him if he'll answer you, and speak to him gently,” said little + Mildred, settling the man in a chair. It seemed most improper to all + present that Dirkovitch should sip brandy as he talked in purring, + spitting Russian to the creature who answered so feebly and with such + evident dread. But since Dirkovitch appeared to understand, no one said a + word. All breathed heavily, leaning forward, in the long gaps of the + conversation. The next time that they have no engagements on hand the + White Hussars intend to go to St. Petersburg in a body to learn Russian. + </p> + <p> + “He does not know how many years ago,” said Dirkovitch, facing the mess, + “but he says it was very long ago in a war. I think that there was an + accident. He says he was of this glorious and distinguished regiment in + the war.” + </p> + <p> + “The rolls! The rolls! Holmer, get the rolls!” said little Mildred, and + the adjutant dashed off bare-headed to the orderly-room, where the + muster-rolls of the regiment were kept. He returned just in time to hear + Dirkovitch conclude, “Therefore, my dear friends, I am most sorry to say + there was an accident which would have been reparable if he had apologised + to that our colonel, which he had insulted.” + </p> + <p> + Then followed another growl which the colonel tried to beat down. The mess + was in no mood just then to weigh insults to Russian colonels. + </p> + <p> + “He does not remember, but I think that there was an accident, and so he + was not exchanged among the prisoners, but he was sent to another place—how + do you say?—the country. So, he says, he came here. He does not know + how he came. Eh? He was at Chepany,”—the man caught the word, + nodded, and shivered,—“at Zhigansk and Irkutsk. I cannot understand + how he escaped. He says, too, that he was in the forests for many years, + but how many years he has forgotten—that with many things. It was an + accident; done because he did not apologise to that our colonel. Ah!” + </p> + <p> + Instead of echoing Dirkovitch's sigh of regret, it is sad to record that + the White Hussars livelily exhibited un-Christian delight and other + emotions, hardly restrained by their sense of hospitality. Holmer flung + the frayed and yellow regimental rolls on the table, and the men flung + themselves at these. + </p> + <p> + “Steady! Fifty-six—fifty-five—fifty-four,” said Holmer. “Here + we are. 'Lieutenant Austin Limmason. Missing.' That was before Sebastopol. + What an infernal shame! Insulted one of their colonels, and was quietly + shipped off. Thirty years of his life wiped out.” + </p> + <p> + “But he never apologised. Said he'd see him damned first,” chorused the + mess. + </p> + <p> + “Poor chap! I suppose he never had the chance afterwards. How did he come + here?” said the colonel. + </p> + <p> + The dingy heap in the chair could give no answer. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know who you are?” + </p> + <p> + It laughed weakly. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know that you are Limmason—Lieutenant Limmason of the White + Hussars?” + </p> + <p> + Swiftly as a shot came the answer, in a slightly surprised tone, “Yes, I'm—Limmason, + of course.” The light died out in his eyes, and the man collapsed, + watching every motion of Dirkovitch with terror. A flight from Siberia may + fix a few elementary facts in the mind, but it does not seem to lead to + continuity of thought. The man could not explain how, like a homing + pigeon, he had found his way to his own old mess again. Of what he had + suffered or seen he knew nothing. He cringed before Dirkovitch as + instinctively as he had pressed the spring of the candlestick, sought the + picture of the drum-horse, and answered to the toast of the Queen. The + rest was a blank that the dreaded Russian tongue could only in part + remove. His head bowed on his breast, and he giggled and cowered + alternately. + </p> + <p> + The devil that lived in the brandy prompted Dirkovitch at this extremely + inopportune moment to make a speech. He rose, swaying slightly, gripped + the table-edge, while his eyes glowed like opals, and began: + </p> + <p> + “Fellow-soldiers glorious—true friends and hospitables. It was an + accident, and deplorable—most deplorable.” Here he smiled sweetly + all round the mess. “But you will think of this little, little thing. So + little, is it not? The Czar! Posh! I slap my fingers—I snap my + fingers at him. Do I believe in him? No! But in us Slav who has done + nothing, him I believe. Seventy—how much—millions peoples that + have done nothing—not one thing. Posh! Napoleon was an episode.” He + banged a hand on the table. “Hear you, old peoples, we have done nothing + in the world—out here. All our work is to do; and it shall be done, + old peoples. Get a-way!” He waved his hand imperiously, and pointed to the + man. “You see him. He is not good to see. He was just one little—oh, + so little—accident, that no one remembered. Now he is——” + </p> + <p> + “That! So will you be, brother soldiers so brave so will you be. But you + will never come back. You will all go where he is gone, or”—he + pointed to the great coffin-shadow on the ceiling, and muttering, “Seventy + millions—get a-way, you old peoples,” fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + “Sweet, and to the point,” said little Mildred. “What's the use of getting + wroth? Let's make this poor devil comfortable.” + </p> + <p> + But that was a matter suddenly and swiftly taken from the loving hands of + the White Hussars. The lieutenant had returned only to go away again three + days later, when the wail of the Dead March, and the tramp of the + squadrons, told the wondering Station, who saw no gap in the mess-table, + that an officer of the regiment had resigned his new-found commission. + </p> + <p> + And Dirkovitch, bland, supple, and always genial, went away too by a night + train. Little Mildred and another man saw him off, for he was the guest of + the mess, and even had he smitten the colonel with the open hand, the law + of that mess allowed no relaxation of hospitality. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, Dirkovitch, and a pleasant journey,” said little Mildred. + </p> + <p> + “Au revoir,” said the Russian. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! But we thought you were going home?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but I will come again. My dear friends, is that road shut?” He + pointed to where the North Star burned over the Khyber Pass. + </p> + <p> + “By Jove! I forgot. Of course. Happy to meet you, old man, any time you + like. Got everything you want? Cheroots, ice, bedding? That's all right. + Well, au revoir, Dirkovitch.” + </p> + <p> + “Um,” said the other man, as the tail-lights of the train grew small. “Of—all—the—unmitigated!” + </p> + <p> + Little Mildred answered nothing, but watched the North Star and hummed a + selection from recent Simla burlesque that had much delighted the White + Hussars. It ran— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I'm sorry for Mister Bluebeard, + I'm sorry to cause him pain; + But a terrible spree there's sure to be + When he comes back again. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ONLY A SUBALTERN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Not only to enforce by command but to encourage by example + the energetic discharge of duty and the steady endurance of + the difficulties and privations inseparable from Military + Service.—Bengal Army Regulations. +</pre> + <p> + They made Bobby Wick pass an examination at Sandhurst. He was a gentleman + before he was gazetted, so, when the Empress announced that + “Gentleman-Cadet Robert Hanna Wick” was posted as Second Lieutenant to the + Tyneside Tail Twisters at Krab Bokhar, he became an officer and a + gentleman, which is an enviable thing; and there was joy in the house of + Wick, where Mamma Wick and all the little Wicks fell upon their knees and + offered incense to Bobby by virtue of his achievements. + </p> + <p> + Papa Wick had been a Commissioner in his day, holding authority over three + millions of men in the Chota-Buldana Division, building great works for + the good of the land, and doing his best to make two blades of grass grow + where there was but one before. Of course, nobody knew anything about this + in the little English village where he was just “old Mr. Wick” and had + forgotten that he was a Companion of the Order of the Star of India. + </p> + <p> + He patted Bobby on the shoulder and said: “Well done, my boy!” + </p> + <p> + There followed, while the uniform was being prepared, an interval of pure + delight, during which Bobby took brevet-rank as a “man” at the + women-swamped tennis-parties and tea-fights of the village, and, I + daresay, had his joining-time been extended, would have fallen in love + with several girls at once. Little country villages at Home are very full + of nice girls, because all the young men come out to India to make their + fortunes. + </p> + <p> + “India,” said Papa Wick, “is the place. I've had thirty years of it, and, + begad, I'd like to go back again. When you join the Tail Twisters you'll + be among friends, if every one hasn't forgotten Wick of Chota-Buldana, and + a lot of people will be kind to you for our sakes. The mother will tell + you more about outfit than I can, but remember this. Stick to your + Regiment, Bobby—stick to your Regiment. You'll see men all round you + going into the Staff Corps, and doing every possible sort of duty but + regimental, and you may be tempted to follow suit. Now so long as you keep + within your allowance, and I haven't stinted you there, stick to the Line, + the whole Line, and nothing but the Line. Be careful how you back another + young fool's bill, and if you fall in love with a woman twenty years older + than yourself, don't tell me about it, that's all.” + </p> + <p> + With these counsels, and many others equally valuable, did Papa Wick + fortify Bobby ere that last awful night at Portsmouth when the Officers' + Quarters held more inmates than were provided for by the Regulations, and + the liberty-men of the ships fell foul of the drafts for India, and the + battle raged from the Dockyard Gates even to the slums of Longport, while + the drabs of Fratton came down and scratched the faces of the Queen's + Officers. + </p> + <p> + Bobby Wick, with an ugly bruise on his freckled nose, a sick and shaky + detachment to manoeuvre inship, and the comfort of fifty scornful females + to attend to, had no time to feel homesick till the Malabar reached + mid-Channel, when he doubled his emotions with a little guard-visiting and + a great many other matters. + </p> + <p> + The Tail Twisters were a most particular Regiment. Those who knew them + least said that they were eaten up with “side.” But their reserve and + their internal arrangements generally were merely protective diplomacy. + Some five years before, the Colonel commanding had looked into the + fourteen fearless eyes of seven plump and juicy subalterns who had all + applied to enter the Staff Corps, and had asked them why the three stars + should he, a colonel of the Line, command a dashed nursery for + double-dashed bottle-suckers who put on condemned tin spurs and rode + qualified mokes at the hiatused heads of forsaken Black Regiments. He was + a rude man and a terrible. Wherefore the remnant took measures (with the + half-butt as an engine of public opinion) till the rumour went abroad that + young men who used the Tail Twisters as a crutch to the Staff Corps had + many and varied trials to endure. However, a regiment has just as much + right to its own secrets as a woman. + </p> + <p> + When Bobby came up from Deolali and took his place among the Tail + Twisters, it was gently but firmly borne in upon him that the Regiment was + his father and his mother and his indissolubly wedded wife, and that there + was no crime under the canopy of heaven blacker than that of bringing + shame on the Regiment, which was the best-shooting, best-drilled, best + set-up, bravest, most illustrious, and in all respects most desirable + Regiment within the compass of the Seven Seas. He was taught the legends + of the Mess Plate, from the great grinning Golden Gods that had come out + of the Summer Palace in Pekin to the silver-mounted markhor-horn snuffmull + presented by the last C. O. (he who spake to the seven subalterns). And + every one of those legends told him of battles fought at long odds, + without fear as without support; of hospitality catholic as an Arab's; of + friendships deep as the sea and steady as the fighting-line; of honour won + by hard roads for honour's sake; and of instant and unquestioning devotion + to the Regiment—the Regiment that claims the lives of all and lives + forever. + </p> + <p> + More than once, too, he came officially into contact with the Regimental + colours, which looked like the lining of a bricklayer's hat on the end of + a chewed stick. Bobby did not kneel and worship them, because British + subalterns are not constructed in that manner. Indeed, he condemned them + for their weight at the very moment that they were filling him with awe + and other more noble sentiments. + </p> + <p> + But best of all was the occasion when he moved with the Tail Twisters in + review order at the breaking of a November day. Allowing for duty-men and + sick, the Regiment was one thousand and eighty strong, and Bobby belonged + to them; for was he not a Subaltern of the Line,—the whole Line and + nothing but the Line,—as the tramp of two thousand one hundred and + sixty sturdy ammunition boots attested? He would not have changed places + with Deighton of the Horse Battery, whirling by in a pillar of cloud to a + chorus of “Strong right! Strong left!” or Hogan-Yale of the White Hussars, + leading his squadron for all it was worth, with the price of horseshoes + thrown in; or “Tick” Boileau, trying to live up to his fierce blue and + gold turban while the wasps of the Bengal Cavalry stretched to a gallop in + the wake of the long, lollopping Walers of the White Hussars. + </p> + <p> + They fought through the clear cool day, and Bobby felt a little thrill run + down his spine when he heard the tinkle-tinkle-tinkle of the empty + cartridge-cases hopping from the breech-blocks after the roar of the + volleys; for he knew that he should live to hear that sound in action. The + review ended in a glorious chase across the plain—batteries + thundering after cavalry to the huge disgust of the White Hussars, and the + Tyneside Tail Twisters hunting a Sikh Regiment till the lean, lathy Singhs + panted with exhaustion. Bobby was dusty and dripping long before noon, but + his enthusiasm was merely focused—not diminished. + </p> + <p> + He returned to sit at the feet of Revere, his “skipper,” that is to say, + the Captain of his Company, and to be instructed in the dark art and + mystery of managing men, which is a very large part of the Profession of + Arms. + </p> + <p> + “If you haven't a taste that way,” said Revere between his puffs of his + cheroot, “you'll never be able to get the hang of it, but remember, Bobby, + 'tisn't the best drill, though drill is nearly everything, that hauls a + Regiment through Hell and out on the other side. It's the man who knows + how to handle men—goat-men, swine-men, dog-men, and so on.” + </p> + <p> + “Dormer, for instance,” said Bobby; “I think he comes under the head of + fool-men. He mopes like a sick owl.” + </p> + <p> + “That 's where you make your mistake, my son. Dormer isn't a fool yet, but + he's a dashed dirty soldier, and his room corporal makes fun of his socks + before kit-inspection. Dormer, being two-thirds pure brute, goes into a + corner and growls.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know'?” said Bobby admiringly. + </p> + <p> + “Because a Company commander has to know these things—because, if he + does not know, he may have crime—ay, murder—brewing under his + very nose and yet not see that it's there. Dormer is being badgered out of + his mind—big as he is—and he hasn't intellect enough to resent + it. He's taken to quiet boozing, and, Bobby, when the butt of a room goes + on the drink, or takes to moping by himself, measures are necessary to + pull him out of himself.” + </p> + <p> + “What measures? Man can't run round coddling his men for ever.” + </p> + <p> + “No. The men would precious soon show him that he was not wanted. You've + got to—” + </p> + <p> + Here the Colour-sergeant entered with some papers; Bobby reflected for a + while as Revere looked through the Company forms. + </p> + <p> + “Does Dormer do anything, Sergeant?” Bobby asked with the air of one + continuing an interrupted conversation. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. Does 'is dooty like a hortomato,” said the Sergeant, who + delighted in long words. “A dirty soldier, and 'e's under full stoppages + for new kit. It's covered with scales, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Scales? What scales?” + </p> + <p> + “Fish-scales, sir. 'E's always pokin' in the mud by the river an' + a-cleanin' them muchly-fish with 'is thumbs.” Revere was still absorbed in + the Company papers, and the Sergeant, who was sternly fond of Bobby, + continued,—“'E generally goes down there when 'e's got 'is skinful, + beggin' your pardon, sir, an' they do say that the more lush—inebriated + 'e is, the more fish 'e catches. They call 'im the Looney Fishmonger in + the Comp'ny, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Revere signed the last paper and the Sergeant retreated. + </p> + <p> + “It's a filthy amusement,” sighed Bobby to himself. Then aloud to Revere: + “Are you really worried about Dormer?” + </p> + <p> + “A little. You see he's never mad enough to send to hospital, or drunk + enough to run in, but at any minute he may flare up, brooding and sulking + as he does. He resents any interest being shown in him, and the only time + I took him out shooting he all but shot me by accident.” + </p> + <p> + “I fish,” said Bobby, with a wry face. “I hire a country-boat and go down + river from Thursday to Sunday, and the amiable Dormer goes with me—if + you can spare us both.” + </p> + <p> + “You blazing young fool!” said Revere, but his heart was full of much more + pleasant words. + </p> + <p> + Bobby, the Captain of a dhoni, with Private Dormer for mate, dropped down + the river on Thursday morning—the Private at the bow, the Subaltern + at the helm. The Private glared uneasily at the Subaltern, who respected + the reserve of the Private. + </p> + <p> + After six hours, Dormer paced to the stern, saluted, and said—“Beg + y' pardon, sir, but was you ever on the Durh'm Canal?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Bobby Wick. “Come and have some tiffin.” + </p> + <p> + They ate in silence. As the evening fell, Private Dormer broke forth, + speaking to himself— + </p> + <p> + “Hi was on the Durh'm Canal, jes' such a night, come next week + twelvemonth, a-trailin' of my toes in the water.” He smoked and said no + more till bedtime. + </p> + <p> + The witchery of the dawn turned the gray river-reaches to purple, gold, + and opal; and it was as though the lumbering dhoni crept across the + splendours of a new heaven. + </p> + <p> + Private Dormer popped his head out of his blanket and gazed at the glory + below and around. + </p> + <p> + “Well—damn—my eyes!” said Private Dormer in an awed whisper. + “This 'ere is like a bloomin' gallantry-show!” For the rest of the day he + was dumb, but achieved an ensanguined filthiness through the cleaning of + big fish. + </p> + <p> + The boat returned on Saturday evening. Dormer had been struggling with + speech since noon. As the lines and luggage were being disembarked, he + found tongue. + </p> + <p> + “Beg y' pardon, sir,” he said, “but would you—would you min' shakin' + 'ands with me, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not,” said Bobby, and he shook accordingly. Dormer returned to + barracks and Bobby to mess. + </p> + <p> + “He wanted a little quiet and some fishing, I think,” said Bobby. “My + aunt, but he's a filthy sort of animal! Have you ever seen him clean 'them + muchly-fish with 'is thumbs?” + </p> + <p> + “Anyhow,” said Revere three weeks later, “he's doing his best to keep his + things clean.” + </p> + <p> + When the spring died, Bobby joined in the general scramble for Hill leave, + and to his surprise and delight secured three months. + </p> + <p> + “As good a boy as I want,” said Revere, the admiring skipper. + </p> + <p> + “The best of the batch,” said the Adjutant to the Colonel. “Keep back that + young skrimshanker Porkiss, sir, and let Revere make him sit up.” + </p> + <p> + So Bobby departed joyously to Simla Pahar with a tin box of gorgeous + raiment. + </p> + <p> + “Son of Wick—old Wick of Chota-Buldana? Ask him to dinner, dear,” + said the aged men. + </p> + <p> + “What a nice boy!” said the matrons and the maids. + </p> + <p> + “First-class place, Simla. Oh, ri——ipping!” said Bobby Wick, + and ordered new white cord breeches on the strength of it. + </p> + <p> + “We're in a bad way,” wrote Revere to Bobby at the end of two months. + “Since you left, the Regiment has taken to fever and is fairly rotten with + it—two hundred in hospital, about a hundred in cells—drinking + to keep off fever—and the Companies on parade fifteen file strong at + the outside. There's rather more sickness in the out-villages than I care + for, but then I'm so blistered with prickly-heat that I'm ready to hang + myself. What's the yarn about your mashing a Miss Haverley up there? Not + serious, I hope? You're over-young to hang millstones round your neck, and + the Colonel will turf you out of that in double-quick time if you attempt + it.” + </p> + <p> + It was not the Colonel that brought Bobby out of Simla, but a much more to + be respected Commandant. The sickness in the out-villages spread, the + Bazar was put out of bounds, and then came the news that the Tail Twisters + must go into camp. The message flashed to the Hill stations.—“Cholera—Leave + stopped—Officers recalled.” Alas, for the white gloves in the neatly + soldered boxes, the rides and the dances and picnics that were to be, the + loves half spoken, and the debts unpaid! Without demur and without + question, fast as tonga could fly or pony gallop, back to their Regiments + and their Batteries, as though they were hastening to their weddings, fled + the subalterns. + </p> + <p> + Bobby received his orders on returning from a dance at Viceregal Lodge, + where he had but only the Haverley girl knows what Bobby had said or how + many waltzes he had claimed for the next ball. Six in the morning saw + Bobby at the Tonga Office in the drenching rain, the whirl of the last + waltz still in his ears, and an intoxication due neither to wine nor + waltzing in his brain. + </p> + <p> + “Good man!” shouted Deighton of the Horse Battery through the mists. “Whar + you raise dat tonga? I'm coming with you. Ow! But I've a head and half. I + didn't sit out all night. They say the Battery's awful bad,” and he hummed + dolorously— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Leave the what at the what's-its-name, + Leave the flock without shelter, + Leave the corpse uninterred, + Leave the bride at the altar +</pre> + <p> + “My faith! It'll be more bally corpse than bride, though, this journey. + Jump in, Bobby. Get on, Coachwan!” + </p> + <p> + On the Umballa platform waited a detachment of officers discussing the + latest news from the stricken cantonment, and it was here that Bobby + learned the real condition of the Tail Twisters. + </p> + <p> + “They went into camp,” said an elderly Major recalled from the + whist-tables at Mussoorie to a sickly Native Regiment, “they went into + camp with two hundred and ten sick in carts. Two hundred and ten fever + cases only, and the balance looking like so many ghosts with sore eyes. A + Madras Regiment could have walked through 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “But they were as fit as be-damned when I left them!” said Bobby. + </p> + <p> + “Then you'd better make them as fit as be-damned when you rejoin,” said + the Major brutally. + </p> + <p> + Bobby pressed his forehead against the rain-splashed window-pane as the + train lumbered across the sodden Doab, and prayed for the health of the + Tyneside Tail Twisters. Naini Tal had sent down her contingent with all + speed; the lathering ponies of the Dalhousie Road staggered into + Pathankot, taxed to the full stretch of their strength; while from cloudy + Darjiling the Calcutta Mail whirled up the last straggler of the little + army that was to fight a fight, in which was neither medal nor honour for + the winning, against an enemy none other than “the sickness that + destroyeth in the noonday.” + </p> + <p> + And as each man reported himself, he said: “This is a bad business,” and + went about his own forthwith, for every Regiment and Battery in the + cantonment was under canvas, the sickness bearing them company. + </p> + <p> + Bobby fought his way through the rain to the Tail Twisters' temporary + mess, and Revere could have fallen on the boy's neck for the joy of seeing + that ugly, wholesome phiz once more. + </p> + <p> + “Keep 'em amused and interested,” said Revere. “They went on the drink, + poor fools, after the first two cases, and there was no improvement. Oh, + it's good to have you back, Bobby! Porkiss is a—never mind.” + </p> + <p> + Deighton came over from the Artillery camp to attend a dreary mess dinner, + and contributed to the general gloom by nearly weeping over the condition + of his beloved Battery. Porkiss so far forgot himself as to insinuate that + the presence of the officers could do no earthly good, and that the best + thing would be to send the entire Regiment into hospital and “let the + doctors look after them.” Porkiss was demoralised with fear, nor was his + peace of mind restored when Revere said coldly: “Oh! The sooner you go out + the better, if that's your way of thinking. Any public school could send + us fifty good men in your place, but it takes time, time, Porkiss, and + money, and a certain amount of trouble, to make a Regiment. S'pose you're + the person we go into camp for, eh?” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon Porkiss was overtaken with a great and chilly fear which a + drenching in the rain did not allay, and, two days later, quitted this + world for another where, men do fondly hope, allowances are made for the + weaknesses of the flesh. The Regimental Sergeant-Major looked wearily + across the Sergeants' Mess tent when the news was announced. + </p> + <p> + “There goes the worst of them,” he said. “It'll take the best, and then, + please God, it'll stop.” The Sergeants were silent till one said: “It + couldn't be him!” and all knew of whom Travis was thinking. + </p> + <p> + Bobby Wick stormed through the tents of his Company, rallying, rebuking, + mildly, as is consistent with the Regulations, chaffing the fainthearted; + haling the sound into the watery sunlight when there was a break in the + weather, and bidding them be of good cheer, for their trouble was nearly + at an end; scuttling on his dun pony round the outskirts of the camp and + heading back men who, with the innate perversity of British soldiers, were + always wandering into infected villages, or drinking deeply from + rain-flooded marshes; comforting the panic-stricken with rude speech, and + more than once tending the dying who had no friends—the men without + “townies”; organizing, with banjos and burnt cork, Sing-songs which should + allow the talent of the Regiment full play; and generally, as he + explained, “playing the giddy garden-goat all round.” + </p> + <p> + “You're worth half a dozen of us, Bobby,” said Revere in a moment of + enthusiasm. “How the devil do you keep it up?” + </p> + <p> + Bobby made no answer, but had Revere looked into the breast-pocket of his + coat he might have seen there a sheaf of badly-written letters which + perhaps accounted for the power that possessed the boy. A letter came to + Bobby every other day. The spelling was not above reproach, but the + sentiments must have been most satisfactory, for on receipt Bobby's eyes + softened marvellously, and he was wont to fall into a tender abstraction + for a while ere, shaking his cropped head, he charged into his work. + </p> + <p> + By what power he drew after him the hearts of the roughest, and the Tail + Twisters counted in their ranks some rough diamonds indeed, was a mystery + to both skipper and C. O., who learned from the regimental chaplain that + Bobby was considerably more in request in the hospital tents than the + Reverend John Emery. + </p> + <p> + “The men seem fond of you. Are you in the hospitals much?” said the + Colonel, who did his daily round and ordered the men to get well with a + hardness that did not cover his bitter grief. + </p> + <p> + “A little, sir,” said Bobby. + </p> + <p> + “Shouldn't go there too often if I were you. They say it's not contagious, + but there's no use in running unnecessary risks. We can't afford to have + you down, y' know.” + </p> + <p> + Six days later, it was with the utmost difficulty that the post-runner + plashed his way out to the camp with the mail-bags, for the rain was + falling in torrents. Bobby received a letter, bore it off to his tent, + and, the programme for the next week's Sing-song being satisfactorily + disposed of, sat down to answer it. For an hour the unhandy pen toiled + over the paper, and where sentiment rose to more than normal tide-level, + Bobby Wick stuck out his tongue and breathed heavily. He was not used to + letter-writing. + </p> + <p> + “Beg y' pardon, sir,” said a voice at the tent door; “but Dormer's 'orrid + bad, sir, an' they've taken him orf, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Damn Private Dormer and you too!” said Bobby Wick, running the blotter + over the half-finished letter. “Tell him I'll come in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “'E's awful bad, sir,” said the voice hesitatingly. There was an undecided + squelching of heavy boots. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said Bobby impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Excusin' 'imself before 'and for takin' the liberty, 'e says it would be + a comfort for to assist 'im, sir, if—tattoo lao! Get my pony! Here, + come in out of the rain till I'mready. What blasted nuisances you are! + That's brandy. Drink some; you want it. Hang on to my stirrup and tell me + if I go too fast.” + </p> + <p> + Strengthened by a four-finger “nip” which he swallowed without a wink, the + Hospital Orderly kept up with the slipping, mud-stained, and very + disgusted pony as it shambled to the hospital tent. + </p> + <p> + Private Dormer was certainly “'orrid bad.” He had all but reached the + stage of collapse, and was not pleasant to look upon. + </p> + <p> + “What's this, Dormer?” said Bobby, bending over the man. “You're not going + out this time. You've got to come fishing with me once or twice more yet.” + </p> + <p> + The blue lips parted and in the ghost of a whisper said,—“Beg y' + pardon, sir, disturbin' of you now, but would you min' 'oldin' my 'and, + sir'?” + </p> + <p> + Bobby sat on the side of the bed, and the icy-cold hand closed on his own + like a vice, forcing a lady's ring which was on the little finger deep + into the flesh. Bobby set his lips and waited, the water dripping from the + hem of his trousers. An hour passed, and the grasp of the hand did not + relax, nor did the expression of the drawn face change. Bobby with + infinite craft lit himself a cheroot with the left hand (his right arm was + numbed to the elbow), and resigned himself to a night of pain. + </p> + <p> + Dawn showed a very white-faced Subaltern sitting on the side of a sick + man's cot, and a Doctor in the doorway using language unfit for + publication. + </p> + <p> + “Have you been here all night, you young ass?” said the Doctor. + </p> + <p> + “There or thereabouts,” said Bobby ruefully. “He's frozen on to me.” + </p> + <p> + Dormer's mouth shut with a click. He turned his head and sighed. The + clinging hand opened, and Bobby's arm fell useless at his side. + </p> + <p> + “He'll do,” said the Doctor quietly. “It must have been a toss-up all + through the night. 'Think you're to be congratulated on this case.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, bosh!” said Bobby. “I thought the man had gone out long ago—only—only + I didn't care to take my hand away. Rub my arm down, there's a good chap. + What a grip the brute has! I'm chilled to the marrow!” He passed out of + the tent shivering. + </p> + <p> + Private Dormer was allowed to celebrate his repulse of Death by strong + waters. Four days later, he sat on the side of his cot and said to the + patients mildly: “I'd 'a' liken to 'a' spoken to 'im—so I should.” + </p> + <p> + But at that time Bobby was reading yet another letter,—he had the + most persistent correspondent of any man in camp,—and was even then + about to write that the sickness had abated, and in another week at the + outside would be gone. He did not intend to say that the chill of a sick + man's hand seemed to have struck into the heart whose capacities for + affection he dwelt on at such length. He did intend to enclose the + illustrated programme of the forthcoming Sing-song, whereof he was not a + little proud. He also intended to write on many other matters which do not + concern us, and doubtless would have done so but for the slight feverish + headache which made him dull and unresponsive at mess. + </p> + <p> + “You are overdoing it, Bobby,” said his skipper. “'Might give the rest of + us credit of doing a little work. You go on as if you were the whole Mess + rolled into one. Take it easy.” + </p> + <p> + “I will,” said Bobby. “I'm feeling done up, somehow.” Revere looked at him + anxiously and said nothing. + </p> + <p> + There was a flickering of lanterns about the camp that night, and a rumour + that brought men out of their cots to the tent doors, a paddling of the + naked feet of doolie-bearers, and the rush of a galloping horse. + </p> + <p> + “Wot's up?” asked twenty tents; and through twenty tents ran the answer—“Wick, + 'e's down.” + </p> + <p> + They brought the news to Revere and he groaned. “Any one but Bobby and I + shouldn't have cared! The Sergeant-Major was right.” + </p> + <p> + “Not going out this journey,” gasped Bobby, as he was lifted from the + doolie. “Not going out this journey.” Then with an air of supreme + conviction—“I can't, you see.” + </p> + <p> + “Not if I can do anything!” said the Surgeon-Major, who had hastened over + from the mess where he had been dining. + </p> + <p> + He and the Regimental Surgeon fought together with Death for the life of + Bobby Wick. Their work was interrupted by a hairy apparition in a + blue-gray dressing-gown, who stared in horror at the bed and cried—“Oh, + my Gawd! It can't be 'im!” until an indignant Hospital Orderly whisked him + away. + </p> + <p> + If care of man and desire to live could have done aught, Bobby would have + been saved. As it was, he made a fight of three days, and the + Surgeon-Major's brow uncreased. “We'll save him yet,” he said; and the + Surgeon, who, though he ranked with the Captain, had a very youthful + heart, went out upon the word and pranced joyously in the mud. + </p> + <p> + “Not going out this journey,” whispered Bobby Wick gallantly, at the end + of the third day. + </p> + <p> + “Bravo!” said the Surgeon-Major. “That's the way to look at it, Bobby.” + </p> + <p> + As evening fell a gray shade gathered round Bobby's mouth, and he turned + his face to the tent-wall wearily. The Surgeon-Major frowned. + </p> + <p> + “I'm awfully tired,” said Bobby, very faintly. “What's the use of + bothering me with medicine? I—don't—want—it. Let me + alone.” + </p> + <p> + The desire for life had departed, and Bobby was content to drift away on + the easy tide of Death. + </p> + <p> + “It's no good,” said the Surgeon-Major. “He doesn't want to live. He's + meeting it, poor child.” And he blew his nose. + </p> + <p> + Half a mile away, the regimental band was playing the overture to the + Sing-song, for the men had been told that Bobby was out of danger. The + clash of the brass and the wail of the horns reached Bobby's ears. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Is there a single joy or pain, + That I should never kno-ow? + You do not love me, 'tis in vain, + Bid me good-bye and go! +</pre> + <p> + An expression of hopeless irritation crossed the boy's face, and he tried + to shake his head. + </p> + <p> + The Surgeon-Major bent down—“What is it, Bobby?”—-“Not that + waltz,” muttered Bobby. “That's our own—our very ownest own... Mummy + dear.” + </p> + <p> + With this he sank into the stupor that gave place to death early next + morning. + </p> + <p> + Revere, his eyes red at the rims and his nose very white, went into + Bobby's tent to write a letter to Papa Wick which should bow the white + head of the ex-Commissioner of Chota-Buldana in the keenest sorrow of his + life. Bobby's little store of papers lay in confusion on the table, and + among them a half-finished letter. The last sentence ran: “So you see, + darling, there is really no fear, because as long as I know you care for + me and I care for you, nothing can touch me.” + </p> + <p> + Revere stayed in the tent for an hour. When he came out, his eyes were + redder than ever. + </p> + <p> + Private Conklin sat on a turned-down bucket, and listened to a not + unfamiliar tune. Private Conklin was a convalescent and should have been + tenderly treated. + </p> + <p> + “Ho!” said Private Conklin. “There's another bloomin' orf'cer da-ed.” + </p> + <p> + The bucket shot from under him, and his eyes filled with a smithyful of + sparks. A tall man in a blue-gray bedgown was regarding him with deep + disfavour. + </p> + <p> + “You ought to take shame for yourself, Conky! Orf'cer?—bloomin' + orf'cer? I'll learn you to misname the likes of 'im. Hangel! Bloomin' + Hangel! That's wot 'e is!” + </p> + <p> + And the Hospital Orderly was so satisfied with the justice of the + punishment that he did not even order Private Dormer back to his cot. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IN THE MATTER OF A PRIVATE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Hurrah! hurrah! a soldier's life for me! + Shout, boys, shout! for it makes you jolly and free. + + The Ramrod Corps. +</pre> + <p> + People who have seen say that one of the quaintest spectacles of human + frailty is an outbreak of hysterics in a girls' school. It starts without + warning, generally on a hot afternoon, among the elder pupils. A girl + giggles till the giggle gets beyond control. Then she throws up her head + and cries, “Honk, honk, honk,” like a wild goose, and tears mix with the + laughter. If the mistress be wise, she will rap out something severe at + this point to check matters. If she be tender-hearted, and send for a + drink of water, the chances are largely in favour of another girl laughing + at the afflicted one and herself collapsing. Thus the trouble spreads, and + may end in half of what answers to the Lower Sixth of a boys' school + rocking and whooping together. Given a week of warm weather, two stately + promenades per diem, a heavy mutton and rice meal in the middle of the + day, a certain amount of nagging from the teachers, and a few other + things, some amazing effects develop. At least, this is what folk say who + have had experience. + </p> + <p> + Now, the Mother Superior of a Convent and the Colonel of a British + Infantry Regiment would be justly shocked at any comparison being made + between their respective charges. But it is a fact that, under certain + circumstances, Thomas in bulk can be worked up into ditthering, rippling + hysteria. He does not weep, but he shows his trouble unmistakably, and the + consequences get into the newspapers, and all the good people who hardly + know a Martini from a Snider say: “Take away the brute's ammunition!” + </p> + <p> + Thomas isn't a brute, and his business, which is to look after the + virtuous people, demands that he shall have his ammunition to his hand. He + doesn't wear silk stockings, and he really ought to be supplied with a new + Adjective to help him to express his opinions: but, for all that, he is a + great man. If you call him “the heroic defender of the national honour” + one day, and “a brutal and licentious soldiery” the next, you naturally + bewilder him, and he looks upon you with suspicion. There is nobody to + speak for Thomas except people who have theories to work off on him, and + nobody understands Thomas except Thomas, and he does not always know what + is the matter with himself. + </p> + <p> + That is the prologue. This is the story:— + </p> + <p> + Corporal Slane was engaged to be married to Miss Jhansi M'Kenna, whose + history is well known in the regiment and elsewhere. He had his Colonel's + permission, and, being popular with the men, every arrangement had been + made to give the wedding what Private Ortheris called “eeklar.” It fell in + the heart of the hot weather, and, after the wedding, Slane was going up + to the Hills with the bride. None the less, Slane's grievance was that the + affair would be only a hired-carriage wedding, and he felt that the + “eeklar” of that was meagre. Miss M'Kenna did not care so much. The + Sergeant's wife was helping her to make her wedding-dress, and she was + very busy. Slane was, just then, the only moderately contented man in + barracks. All the rest were more or less miserable. + </p> + <p> + And they had so much to make them happy, too. All their work was over at + eight in the morning, and for the rest of the day they could lie on their + backs and smoke Canteen-plug and swear at the punkah-coolies. They enjoyed + a fine, full flesh meal in the middle of the day, and then threw + themselves down on their cots and sweated and slept till it was cool + enough to go out with their “towny,” whose vocabulary contained less than + six hundred words, and the Adjective, and whose views on every conceivable + question they had heard many times before. + </p> + <p> + There was the Canteen, of course, and there was the Temperance Room with + the second-hand papers in it; but a man of any profession cannot read for + eight hours a day in a temperature of 96 deg. or 98 deg. in the shade, + running up sometimes to 103 deg. at midnight. Very few men, even though + they get a pannikin of flat, stale, muddy beer and hide it under their + cots, can continue drinking for six hours a day. One man tried, but he + died, and nearly the whole regiment went to his funeral because it gave + them something to do. It was too early for the excitement of fever or + cholera. The men could only wait and wait and wait, and watch the shadow + of the barrack creeping across the blinding white dust. That was a gay + life. + </p> + <p> + They lounged about cantonments—it was too hot for any sort of game, + and almost too hot for vice—and fuddled themselves in the evening, + and filled themselves to distension with the healthy nitrogenous food + provided for them, and the more they stoked the less exercise they took + and more explosive they grew. Then tempers began to wear away, and men + fell a-brooding over insults real or imaginary, for they had nothing else + to think of. The tone of the repartees changed, and instead of saying + light-heartedly: “I'll knock your silly face in,” men grew laboriously + polite and hinted that the cantonments were not big enough for themselves + and their enemy, and that there would be more space for one of the two in + another Place. + </p> + <p> + It may have been the Devil who arranged the thing, but the fact of the + case is that Losson had for a long time been worrying Simmons in an + aimless way. It gave him occupation. The two had their cots side by side, + and would sometimes spend a long afternoon swearing at each other; but + Simmons was afraid of Losson and dared not challenge him to a fight. He + thought over the words in the hot still nights, and half the hate he felt + towards Losson he vented on the wretched punkah-coolie. + </p> + <p> + Losson bought a parrot in the bazar, and put it into a little cage, and + lowered the cage into the cool darkness of a well, and sat on the + well-curb, shouting bad language down to the parrot. He taught it to say: + “Simmons, ye so-oor,” which means swine, and several other things entirely + unfit for publication. He was a big gross man, and he shook like a jelly + when the parrot had the sentence correctly. Simmons, however, shook with + rage, for all the room were laughing at him—the parrot was such a + disreputable puff of green feathers and it looked so human when it + chattered. Losson used to sit, swinging his fat legs, on the side of the + cot, and ask the parrot what it thought of Simmons. The parrot would + answer: “Simmons, ye so-oor.” “Good boy,” Losson used to say, scratching + the parrot's head; “ye 'ear that, Sim?” And Simmons used to turn over on + his stomach and make answer: “I 'ear. Take 'eed you don't 'ear something + one of these days.” + </p> + <p> + In the restless nights, after he had been asleep all day, fits of blind + rage came upon Simmons and held him till he trembled all over, while he + thought in how many different ways he would slay Losson. Sometimes he + would picture himself trampling the life out of the man with heavy + ammunition-boots, and at others smashing in his face with the butt, and at + others jumping on his shoulders and dragging the head back till the + neckbone cracked. Then his mouth would feel hot and fevered, and he would + reach out for another sup of the beer in the pannikin. + </p> + <p> + But the fancy that came to him most frequently and stayed with him longest + was one connected with the great roll of fat under Losson's right ear. He + noticed it first on a moonlight night, and thereafter it was always before + his eyes. It was a fascinating roll of fat. A man could get his hand upon + it and tear away one side of the neck; or he could place the muzzle of a + rifle on it and blow away all the head in a flash. Losson had no right to + be sleek and contented and well-to-do, when he, Simmons, was the butt of + the room. Some day, perhaps, he would show those who laughed at the + “Simmons, ye so-oor” joke, that he was as good as the rest, and held a + man's life in the crook of his forefinger. When Losson snored, Simmons + hated him more bitterly than ever. Why should Losson be able to sleep when + Simmons had to stay awake hour after hour, tossing and turning on the + tapes, with the dull liver pain gnawing into his right side and his head + throbbing and aching after Canteen? He thought over this for many, many + nights, and the world became unprofitable to him. He even blunted his + naturally fine appetite with beer and tobacco; and all the while the + parrot talked at and made a mock of him. + </p> + <p> + The heat continued and the tempers wore away more quickly than before. A + Sergeant's wife died of heat-apoplexy in the night, and the rumour ran + abroad that it was cholera. Men rejoiced openly, hoping that it would + spread and send them into camp. But that was a false alarm. + </p> + <p> + It was late on a Tuesday evening, and the men were waiting in the deep + double verandahs for “Last Post,” when Simmons went to the box at the foot + of his bed, took out his pipe, and slammed the lid down with a bang that + echoed through the deserted barrack like the crack of a rifle. Ordinarily + speaking, the men would have taken no notice; but their nerves were + fretted to fiddle-strings. They jumped up, and three or four clattered + into the barrack-room only to find Simmons kneeling by his box. + </p> + <p> + “Ow! It's you, is it?” they said, and laughed foolishly. “We thought 'twas—” + </p> + <p> + Simmons rose slowly. If the accident had so shaken his fellows, what would + not the reality do? + </p> + <p> + “You thought it was—did you? And what makes you think?” he said, + lashing himself into madness as he went on; “to Hell with your thinking, + ye dirty spies!” + </p> + <p> + “Simmons, ye so-oor,” chuckled the parrot in the verandah sleepily, + recognising a well-known voice. Now that was absolutely all. + </p> + <p> + The tension snapped. Simmons fell back on the arm-rack deliberately,—the + men were at the far end of the room,—and took out his rifle and + packet of ammunition. “Don't go playing the goat, Sim!” said Losson. “Put + it down,” but there was a quaver in his voice. Another man stooped, + slipped his boot, and hurled it at Simmons's head. The prompt answer was a + shot which, fired at random, found its billet in Losson's throat. Losson + fell forward without a word, and the others scattered. + </p> + <p> + “You thought it was!” yelled Simmons. “You're drivin' me to it! I tell you + you're drivin' me to it! Get up, Losson, an' don't lie shammin' there—you + an' your blasted parrit that druv me to it!” + </p> + <p> + But there was an unaffected reality about Losson's pose that showed + Simmons what he had done. The men were still clamouring in the verandah. + Simmons appropriated two more packets of ammunition and ran into the + moonlight, muttering: “I'll make a night of it. Thirty roun's, an' the + last for myself. Take you that, you dogs!” + </p> + <p> + He dropped on one knee and fired into the brown of the men on the + verandah, but the bullet flew high, and landed in the brickwork with a + vicious phwit that made some of the younger ones turn pale. It is, as + musketry theorists observe, one thing to fire and another to be fired at. + </p> + <p> + Then the instinct of the chase flared up. The news spread from barrack to + barrack, and the men doubled out intent on the capture of Simmons, the + wild beast, who was heading for the Cavalry parade-ground, stopping now + and again to send back a shot and a curse in the direction of his + pursuers. + </p> + <p> + “I'll learn you to spy on me!” he shouted; “I'll learn you to give me + dorg's names! Come on, the 'ole lot o' you! Colonel John Anthony Deever, + C. B.!”—he turned towards the Infantry Mess and shook his rifle—“you + think yourself the devil of a man—but I tell you that if you put + your ugly old carcass outside o' that door, I'll make you the + poorest-lookin' man in the army. Come out, Colonel John Anthony Deever, C. + B.! Come Out and see me practiss on the rainge. I'm the crack shot of the + 'ole bloomin' battalion.” In proof of which statement Simmons fired at the + lighted windows of the mess-house. + </p> + <p> + “Private Simmons, E Comp'ny, on the Cavalry p'rade-ground, Sir, with + thirty rounds,” said a Sergeant breathlessly to the Colonel. “Shootin' + right and lef', Sir. Shot Private Losson. What's to be done, Sir?” + </p> + <p> + Colonel John Anthony Deever, C. B., sallied out, only to be saluted by a + spurt of dust at his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Pull up!” said the Second in Command; “I don't want my step in that way, + Colonel. He's as dangerous as a mad dog.” + </p> + <p> + “Shoot him like one, then,” said the Colonel bitterly, “if he won't take + his chance. My regiment, too! If it had been the Towheads I could have + understood.” + </p> + <p> + Private Simmons had occupied a strong position near a well on the edge of + the parade-ground, and was defying the regiment to come on. The regiment + was not anxious to comply, for there is small honour in being shot by a + fellow-private. Only Corporal Slane, rifle in hand, threw himself down on + the ground, and wormed his way towards the well. + </p> + <p> + “Don't shoot,” said he to the men round him; “like as not you'll 'it me. + I'll catch the beggar livin'.” + </p> + <p> + Simmons ceased shouting for a while, and th noise of trap-wheels could be + heard across the plain. Major Oldyne, Commanding the Horse Battery, was + coming back from a dinner in the Civil Lines; was driving after his usual + custom—that is to say, as fast as the horse could go. + </p> + <p> + “A orf'cer! A blooming spangled orf'cer!” shrieked Simmons; “I'll make a + scarecrow of that orf'cer!” The trap stopped. + </p> + <p> + “What's this?” demanded the Major of Gunners. “You there, drop your + rifle.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it's Jerry Blazes! I ain't got no quarrel with you, Jerry Blazes. + Pass, frien', an' all's well!” + </p> + <p> + But Jerry Blazes had not the faintest intention of passing a dangerous + murderer. He was, as his adoring Battery swore long and fervently, without + knowledge of fear, and they were surely the best judges, for Jerry Blazes, + it was notorious, had done his possible to kill a man each time the + Battery went out. + </p> + <p> + He walked towards Simmons, with the intention of rushing him and knocking + him down. + </p> + <p> + “Don't make me do it, Sir,” said Simmons; “I ain't got nothing ag'in' you. + Ah! you would?”—the Major broke into a run—“Take that, then!” + </p> + <p> + The Major dropped with a bullet through his shoulder, and Simmons stood + over him. He had lost the satisfaction of killing Losson in the desired + way: but here was a helpless body to his hand. Should he slip in another + cartridge, and blow off the head, or with the butt smash in the white + face? He stopped to consider, and a cry went up from the far side of the + parade-ground: “He's killed Jerry Blazes!” But in the shelter of the + well-pillars Simmons was safe, except when he stepped out to fire. “I'll + blow yer 'andsome 'ead off, Jerry Blazes,” said Simmons reflectively. “Six + and three is nine an' one is ten, an' that leaves me another nineteen, an' + one for myself” He tugged at the string of the second packet of + ammunition. Corporal Slane crawled out of the shadow of a bank into the + moonlight. + </p> + <p> + “I see you!” said Simmons. “Come a bit furder on an' I'll do for you.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm comin',” said Corporal Slane briefly; “you've done a bad day's work, + Sim. Come out 'ere an' come back with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Come to,” laughed Simmons, sending a cartridge home with his thumb. “Not + before I've settled you an' Jerry Blazes.” + </p> + <p> + The Corporal was lying at full length in the dust of the parade-ground, a + rifle under him. Some of the less cautious men in the distance shouted: + “Shoot 'im! Shoot 'im, Slane!” + </p> + <p> + “You move 'and or foot, Slane,” said Simmons, “an' I'll kick Jerry Blazes' + 'ead in, and shoot you after.” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't movin',” said the Corporal, raising his head; “you daren't 'it a + man on 'is legs. Let go o' Jerry Blazes an' come out o' that with your + fistes. Come an' 'it me. You daren't, you bloomin' dog-shooter!” + </p> + <p> + “I dare.” + </p> + <p> + “You lie, you man-sticker. You sneakin', Sheeny butcher, you lie. See + there!” Slane kicked the rifle away, and stood up in the peril of his + life. “Come on, now!” + </p> + <p> + The temptation was more than Simmons could resist, for the Corporal in his + white clothes offered a perfect mark. + </p> + <p> + “Don't misname me,” shouted Simmons, firing as he spoke. The shot missed, + and the shooter, blind with rage, threw his rifle down and rushed at Slane + from the protection of the well. Within striking distance, he kicked + savagely at Slane's stomach, but the weedy Corporal knew something of + Simmons's weakness, and knew, too, the deadly guard for that kick. Bowing + forward and drawing up his right leg till the heel of the right foot was + set some three inches above the inside of the left knee-cap, he met the + blow standing on one leg—exactly as Gonds stand when they meditate—and + ready for the fall that would follow. There was an oath, the Corporal fell + over to his own left as shinbone met shinbone, and the Private collapsed, + his right leg broken an inch above the ankle. + </p> + <p> + “Pity you don't know that guard, Sim,” said Slane, spitting out the dust + as he rose. Then raising his voice—“Come an' take him on. I've bruk + 'is leg.” This was not strictly true, for the Private had accomplished his + own downfall, since it is the special merit of that leg-guard that the + harder the kick the greater the kicker's discomfiture. + </p> + <p> + Slane walked to Jerry Blazes and hung over him with ostentatious anxiety, + while Simmons, weeping with pain, was carried away. “'Ope you ain't 'urt + badly, Sir,” said Slane. The Major had fainted, and there was an ugly, + ragged hole through the top of his arm. Slane knelt down and murmured: + “S'elp me, I believe 'e's dead. Well, if that ain't my blooming luck all + over!” + </p> + <p> + But the Major was destined to lead his Battery afield for many a long day + with unshaken nerve. He was removed, and nursed and petted into + convalescence, while the Battery discussed the wisdom of capturing Simmons + and blowing him from a gun. They idolised their Major, and his + reappearance on parade brought about a scene nowhere provided for in the + Army Regulations. + </p> + <p> + Great, too, was the glory that fell to Slane's share. The Gunners would + have made him drunk thrice a day for at least a fortnight. Even the + Colonel of his own regiment complimented him upon his coolness, and the + local paper called him a hero. These things did not puff him up. When the + Major offered him money and thanks, the virtuous Corporal took the one and + put aside the other. But he had a request to make and prefaced it with + many a “Beg y' pardon, Sir.” Could the Major see his way to letting the + Slane-M'Kenna wedding be adorned by the presence of four Battery horses to + pull a hired barouche? The Major could, and so could the Battery. + Excessively so. It was a gorgeous wedding. + </p> + <p> + “Wot did I do it for?” said Corporal Slane. “For the 'orses o' course. + Jhansi ain't a beauty to look at, but I wasn't goin' to 'ave a hired + turnout. Jerry Blazes? If I 'adn't 'a' wanted something, Sim might ha' + blowed Jerry Blazes' blooming 'ead into Hirish stew for aught I'd 'a' + cared.” + </p> + <p> + And they hanged Private Simmons—hanged him as high as Haman in + hollow square of the regiment; and the Colonel said it was Drink; and the + Chaplain was sure it was the Devil; and Simmons fancied it was both, but + he didn't know, and only hoped his fate would be a warning to his + companions; and half a dozen “intelligent publicists” wrote six beautiful + leading articles on “The Prevalence of Crime in the Army.” + </p> + <p> + But not a soul thought of comparing the “bloody-minded Simmons” to the + squawking, gaping school-girl with which this story opens. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE LOST LEGION + </h2> + <p> + When the Indian Mutiny broke out, and a little time before the siege of + Delhi, a regiment of Native Irregular Horse was stationed at Peshawur on + the frontier of India. That regiment caught what John Lawrence called at + the time “the prevalent mania,” and would have thrown in its lot with the + mutineers, had it been allowed to do so. The chance never came, for, as + the regiment swept off down south, it was headed off by a remnant of an + English corps into the hills of Afghanistan, and there the newly conquered + tribesmen turned against it as wolves turn against buck. It was hunted for + the sake of its arms and accoutrements from hill to hill, from ravine to + ravine, up and down the dried beds of rivers and round the shoulders of + bluffs, till it disappeared as water sinks in the sand—this + officerless rebel regiment. The only trace left of its existence to-day is + a nominal roll drawn up in neat round hand and countersigned by an officer + who called himself, “Adjutant, late Irregular Cavalry.” The paper is + yellow with years and dirt, but on the back of it you can still read a + pencil-note by John Lawrence, to this effect: “See that the two native + officers who remained loyal are not deprived of their estates.—J. + L.” Of six hundred and fifty sabres only two stood strain, and John + Lawrence in the midst of all the agony of the first months of the Mutiny + found time to think about their merits. + </p> + <p> + That was more than thirty years ago, and the tribesmen across the Afghan + border who helped to annihilate the regiment are now old men. Sometimes a + graybeard speaks of his share in the massacre. “They came,” he will say, + “across the border, very proud, calling upon us to rise and kill the + English, and go down to the sack of Delhi. But we who had just been + conquered by the same English knew that they were over-bold, and that the + Government could account easily for those down-country dogs. This + Hindustani regiment, therefore, we treated with fair words, and kept + standing in one place till the redcoats came after them very hot and + angry. Then this regiment ran forward a little more into our hills to + avoid the wrath of the English, and we lay upon their flanks watching from + the sides of the hills till we were well assured that their path was lost + behind them. Then we came down, for we desired their clothes, and their + bridles, and their rifles, and their boots—more especially their + boots. That was a great killing—done slowly.” Here the old man will + rub his nose, and shake his long snaky locks, and lick his bearded lips, + and grin till the yellow tooth-stumps show. “Yea, we killed them because + we needed their gear, and we knew that their lives had been forfeited to + God on account of their sin—the sin of treachery to the salt which + they had eaten. They rode up and down the valleys, stumbling and rocking + in their saddles, and howling for mercy. We drove them slowly like cattle + till they were all assembled in one place, the flat wide valley of Sheor + Kit. Many had died from want of water, but there still were many left, and + they could not make any stand. We went among them pulling them down with + our hands two at a time, and our boys killed them who were new to the + sword. My share of the plunder was such and such—so many guns, and + so many saddles. The guns were good in those days. Now we steal the + Government rifles, and despise smooth barrels. Yes, beyond doubt we wiped + that regiment from off the face of the earth, and even the memory of the + deed is now dying. But men say—” + </p> + <p> + At this point the tale would stop abruptly, and it was impossible to find + out what men said across the border. The Afghans were always a secretive + race, and vastly preferred doing something wicked to saying anything at + all. They would be quiet and well-behaved for months, till one night, + without word or warning, they would rush a police-post, cut the throats of + a constable or two, dash through a village, carry away three or four + women, and withdraw, in the red glare of burning thatch, driving the + cattle and goats before them to their own desolate hills. The Indian + Government would become almost tearful on these occasions. First it would + say, “Please be good and we'll forgive you.” The tribe concerned in the + latest depredation would collectively put its thumb to its nose and answer + rudely. Then the Government would say: “Hadn't you better pay up a little + money for those few corpses you left behind you the other night?” Here the + tribe would temporise, and lie and bully, and some of the younger men, + merely to show contempt of authority, would raid another police-post and + fire into some frontier mud-fort, and, if lucky, kill a real English + officer. Then the Government would say:— + </p> + <p> + “Observe; if you really persist in this line of conduct, you will be + hurt.” If the tribe knew exactly what was going on in India, it would + apologise or be rude, according as it learned whether the Government was + busy with other things or able to devote its full attention to their + performances. Some of the tribes knew to one corpse how far to go. Others + became excited, lost their heads, and told the Government to come on. With + sorrow and tears, and one eye on the British taxpayer at home, who + insisted on regarding these exercises as brutal wars of annexation, the + Government would prepare an expensive little field-brigade and some guns, + and send all up into the hills to chase the wicked tribe out of the + valleys, where the corn grew, into the hill-tops, where there was nothing + to eat. The tribe would turn out in full strength and enjoy the campaign, + for they knew that their women would never be touched, that their wounded + would be nursed, not mutilated, and that as soon as each man's bag of corn + was spent they could surrender and palaver with the English General as + though they had been a real enemy. Afterwards, years afterwards, they + would pay the blood-money, driblet by driblet, to the Government, and tell + their children how they had slain the redcoats by thousands. The only + drawback to this kind of picnic-war was the weakness of the redcoats for + solemnly blowing up with powder their fortified towers and keeps. This the + tribes always considered mean. + </p> + <p> + Chief among the leaders of the smaller tribes—the little clans who + knew to a penny the expense of moving white troops against them—was + a priest-bandit-chief whom we will call the Gulla Kutta Mullah. His + enthusiasm for Border murder as an art was almost dignified. He would cut + down a mail-runner from pure wantonness, or bombard a mud-fort with + rifle-fire when he knew that our men needed to sleep. In his leisure + moments he would go on circuit among his neighbours, and try to incite + other tribes to devilry. Also, he kept a kind of hotel for fellow-outlaws + in his own village, which lay in a valley called Bersund. Any respectable + murderer on that section of the frontier was sure to lie up at Bersund, + for it was reckoned an exceedingly safe place. The sole entry to it ran + through a narrow gorge which could be converted into a death-trap in five + minutes. It was surrounded by high hills, reckoned inaccessible to all + save born mountaineers, and here the Gulla Kutta Mullah lived in great + state, the head of a colony of mud and stone huts, and in each mud hut + hung some portion of a red uniform and the plunder of dead men. The + Government particularly wished for his capture, and once invited him + formally to come out and be hanged on account of the many murders in which + he had taken a direct part. He replied:— + </p> + <p> + “I am only twenty miles, as the crow flies, from your border. Come and + fetch me.” + </p> + <p> + “Some day we will come,” said the Government, “and hanged you will be.” + </p> + <p> + The Gulla Kutta Mullah let the matter slip from his mind. He knew that the + patience of the Government was as long as a summer day; but he did not + realise that its arm was as long as a winter night. Months afterwards, + when there was peace on the border, and all India was quiet, the Indian + Government turned in its sleep and remembered the Gulla Kutta Mullah at + Bersund, with his thirteen outlaws. The movement against him of one single + regiment—which the telegrams would have translated as war—would + have been highly impolitic. This was a time for silence and speed, and, + above all, absence of bloodshed. + </p> + <p> + You must know that all along the north-west frontier of India there is + spread a force of some thirty thousand foot and horse, whose duty it is to + quietly and unostentatiously shepherd the tribes in front of them. They + move up and down, and down and up, from one desolate little post to + another; they are ready to take the field at ten minutes' notice; they are + always half in and half out of a difficulty somewhere along the monotonous + line; their lives are as hard as their own muscles, and the papers never + say anything about them. It was from this force that the Government picked + its men. + </p> + <p> + One night, at a station where the mounted Night Patrol fire as they + challenge, and the wheat rolls in great blue-green waves under our cold + northern moon, the officers were playing billiards in the mud-walled + club-house, when orders came to them that they were to go on parade at + once for a night-drill. They grumbled, and went to turn out their men—a + hundred English troops, let us say, two hundred Goorkhas, and about a + hundred cavalry of the finest native cavalry in the world. + </p> + <p> + When they were on the parade-ground, it was explained to them in whispers + that they must set off at once across the hills to Bersund. The English + troops were to post themselves round the hills at the side of the valley; + the Goorkhas would command the gorge and the death-trap, and the cavalry + would fetch a long march round and get to the back of the circle of hills, + whence, if there were any difficulty, they could charge down on the + Mullah's men. But orders were very strict that there should be no fighting + and no noise. They were to return in the morning with every round of + ammunition intact, and the Mullah and the thirteen outlaws bound in their + midst. If they were successful, no one would know or care anything about + their work; but failure meant probably a small border war, in which the + Gulla Kutta Mullah would pose as a popular leader against a big bullying + power, instead of a common Border murderer. + </p> + <p> + Then there was silence, broken only by the clicking of the compass-needles + and snapping of watch-cases, as the heads of columns compared bearings and + made appointments for the rendezvous. Five minutes later the parade-ground + was empty; the green coats of the Goorkhas and the overcoats of the + English troops had faded into the darkness, and the cavalry were cantering + away in the face of a blinding drizzle. + </p> + <p> + What the Goorkhas and the English did will be seen later on. The heavy + work lay with the horses, for they had to go far and pick their way clear + of habitations. Many of the troopers were natives of that part of the + world, ready and anxious to fight against their kin, and some of the + officers had made private and unofficial excursions into those hills + before. They crossed the border, found a dried river-bed, cantered up + that, walked through a stony gorge, risked crossing a low hill under cover + of the darkness, skirted another hill, leaving their hoof-marks deep in + some ploughed ground, felt their way along another water-course, ran over + the neck of a spur praying that no one would hear their horses grunting, + and so worked on in the rain and the darkness till they had left Bersund + and its crater of hills a little behind them, and to the left, and it was + time to swing round. The ascent commanding the back of Bersund was steep, + and they halted to draw breath in a broad level valley below the height. + That is to say, the men reined up, but the horses, blown as they were, + refused to halt. There was unchristian language, the worse for being + delivered in a whisper, and you heard the saddles squeaking in the + darkness as the horses plunged. + </p> + <p> + The subaltern at the rear of one troop turned in his saddle and said very + softly:— + </p> + <p> + “Carter, what the blessed heavens are you doing at the rear? Bring your + men up, man.” + </p> + <p> + There was no answer, till a trooper replied:— + </p> + <p> + “Carter Sahib is forward—not here. There is nothing behind us.” + </p> + <p> + “There is,” said the subaltern. “The squadron's walking on its own tail.” + </p> + <p> + Then the Major in command moved down to the rear, swearing softly and + asking for the blood of Lieutenant Halley—the subaltern who had just + spoken. + </p> + <p> + “Look after your rearguard,” said the Major. “Some of your infernal + thieves have got lost. They're at the head of the squadron, and you're a + several kinds of idiot.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I tell off my men, sir?” said the subaltern sulkily, for he was + feeling wet and cold. + </p> + <p> + “Tell 'em off!” said the Major. “Whip 'em off, by Gad! You're squandering + them all over the place. There's a troop behind you now!” + </p> + <p> + “So I was thinking,” said the subaltern calmly. “I have all my men here, + sir. Better speak to Carter.” + </p> + <p> + “Carter Sahib sends salaam and wants to know why the regiment is + stopping,” said a trooper to Lieutenant Halley. + </p> + <p> + “Where under heaven is Carter,” said the Major. + </p> + <p> + “Forward with his troop,” was the answer. + </p> + <p> + “Are we walking in a ring, then, or are we the centre of a blessed + brigade?” said the Major. + </p> + <p> + By this time there was silence all along the column. The horses were + still; but, through the drive of the fine rain, men could hear the feet of + many horses moving over stony ground. + </p> + <p> + “We're being stalked,” said Lieutenant Halley. + </p> + <p> + “They've no horses here. Besides they'd have fired before this,” said the + Major. “It's—it's villagers' ponies.” + </p> + <p> + “Then our horses would have neighed and spoilt the attack long ago. They + must have been near us for half an hour,” said the subaltern. + </p> + <p> + “Queer that we can't smell the horses,” said the Major, damping his finger + and rubbing it on his nose as he sniffed up wind. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's a bad start,” said the subaltern, shaking the wet from his + overcoat. “What shall we do, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Get on,” said the Major. “We shall catch it to-night.” + </p> + <p> + The column moved forward very gingerly for a few paces. Then there was an + oath, a shower of blue sparks as shod hooves crashed on small stones, and + a man rolled over with a jangle of accoutrements that would have waked the + dead. + </p> + <p> + “Now we've gone and done it,” said Lieutenant Halley. “All the hillside + awake and all the hillside to climb in the face of musketry-fire! This + comes of trying to do night-hawk work.” + </p> + <p> + The trembling trooper picked himself up and tried to explain that his + horse had fallen over one of the little cairns that are built of loose + stones on the spot where a man has been murdered. There was no need to + give reasons. The Major's big Australian charger blundered next, and the + column came to a halt in what seemed to be a very graveyard of little + cairns, all about two feet high. The manoeuvres of the squadron are not + reported. Men said that it felt like mounted quadrilles without training + and without the music; but at last the horses, breaking rank and choosing + their own way, walked clear of the cairns, till every man of the squadron + reformed and drew rein a few yards up the slope of the hill. Then, + according to Lieutenant Halley, there was another scene very like the one + which has been described. The Major and Carter insisted that all the men + had not joined rank, and that there were more of them in the rear, + clicking and blundering among the dead men's cairns. Lieutenant Halley + told off his own troopers again and resigned himself to wait. Later on he + said to me: + </p> + <p> + “I didn't much know and I didn't much care what was going on. The row of + that trooper falling ought to have scared half the country, and I would + take my oath that we were being stalked by a full regiment in the rear, + and they were making row enough to rouse all Afghanistan. I sat tight, but + nothing happened.” + </p> + <p> + The mysterious part of the night's work was the silence on the hillside. + Everybody knew that the Gulla Kutta Mullah had his outpost-huts on the + reverse side of the hill, and everybody expected, by the time that the + Major had sworn himself into quiet, that the watchmen there would open + fire. When nothing happened, they said that the gusts of the rain had + deadened the sound of the horses, and thanked Providence. At last the + Major satisfied himself (a) that he had left no one behind among the + cairns, and (b) that he was not being taken in the rear by a large and + powerful body of cavalry. The men's tempers were thoroughly spoiled, the + horses were lathered and unquiet, and one and all prayed for the daylight. + </p> + <p> + They set themselves to climb up the hill, each man leading his mount + carefully. Before they had covered the lower slopes or the breast-plates + had begun to tighten, a thunderstorm came up behind, rolling across the + low hills and drowning any noise less than that of cannon. The first flash + of the lightning showed the bare ribs of the ascent, the hill-crest + standing steely-blue against the black sky, the little falling lines of + the rain, and, a few yards to their left flank, an Afghan watch-tower, + two-storied, built of stone, and entered by a ladder from the upper story. + The ladder was up, and a man with a rifle was leaning from the window. The + darkness and the thunder rolled down in an instant, and, when the lull + followed, a voice from the watch-tower cried, “Who goes there?” + </p> + <p> + The cavalry were very quiet, but each man gripped his carbine and stood + beside his horse. Again the voice called, “Who goes there?” and in a + louder key, “O brothers, give the alarm!” Now, every man in the cavalry + would have died in his long boots sooner than have asked for quarter, but + it is a fact that the answer to the second call was a long wail of “Marf + karo! Marf karo!” which means, “Have mercy! Have mercy!” It came from the + climbing regiment. + </p> + <p> + The cavalry stood dumbfoundered, till the big troopers had time to whisper + one to another: “Mir Khan, was that thy voice? Abdullah, didst thou call?” + Lieutenant Halley stood beside his charger and waited. So long as no + firing was going on he was content. Another flash of lightning showed the + horses with heaving flanks and nodding heads; the men, white eye-balled, + glaring beside them, and the stone watch-tower to the left. This time + there was no head at the window, and the rude iron-clamped shutter that + could turn a rifle-bullet was closed. + </p> + <p> + “Go on, men,” said the Major. “Get up to the top at any rate!” The + squadron toiled forward, the horses wagging their tails and the men + pulling at the bridles, the stones rolling down the hillside and the + sparks flying. Lieutenant Halley declares that he never heard a squadron + make so much noise in his life. They scrambled up, he said, as though each + horse had eight legs and a spare horse to follow him. Even then there was + no sound from the watch-tower, and the men stopped exhausted on the ridge + that overlooked the pit of darkness in which the village of Bersund lay. + Girths were loosed, curb-chains shifted, and saddles adjusted, and the men + dropped down among the stones. Whatever might happen now, they held the + upper ground of any attack. + </p> + <p> + The thunder ceased, and with it the rain, and the soft thick darkness of a + winter night before the dawn covered them all. Except for the sound of + falling water among the ravines below, everything was still. They heard + the shutter of the watch-tower below them thrown back with a clang, and + the voice of the watcher calling, “Oh, Hafiz Ullah!” + </p> + <p> + The echoes took up the call, “La-la-la!” and an answer came from the + watch-tower hidden round the curve of the hill, “What is it, Shahbaz + Khan?” + </p> + <p> + Shahbaz Khan replied in the high-pitched voice of the mountaineer: “Hast + thou seen?” + </p> + <p> + The answer came back: “Yes. God deliver us from all evil spirits!” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause, and then: “Hafiz Ullah, I am alone! Come to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Shahbaz Khan, I am alone also; but I dare not leave my post!” + </p> + <p> + “That is a lie; thou art afraid.” + </p> + <p> + A longer pause followed, and then: “I am afraid. Be silent! They are below + us still. Pray to God and sleep.” + </p> + <p> + The troopers listened and wondered, for they could not understand what + save earth and stone could lie below the watch-towers. + </p> + <p> + Shahbaz Khan began to call again: “They are below us. I can see them! For + the pity of God come over to me, Hafiz Ullah! My father slew ten of them. + Come over!” + </p> + <p> + Hafiz Ullah answered in a very loud voice, “Mine was guiltless. Hear, ye + Men of the Night, neither my father nor my blood had any part in that sin. + Bear thou thine own punishment, Shahbaz Khan.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, some one ought to stop those two chaps crowing away like cocks + there,” said the Lieutenant, shivering under his rock. + </p> + <p> + He had hardly turned round to expose a new side of him to the rain before + a bearded, long-locked, evil-smelling Afghan rushed up the hill, and + tumbled into his arms. Halley sat upon him, and thrust as much of a + sword-hilt as could be spared down the man's gullet. “If you cry out, I + kill you,” he said cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + The man was beyond any expression of terror. He lay and quaked, gasping. + When Halley took the sword-hilt from between his teeth, he was still + inarticulate, but clung to Halley's arm, feeling it from elbow to wrist. + </p> + <p> + “The Rissala! The dead Rissala!” he gasped, “It is down there!” + </p> + <p> + “No; the Rissala, the very much alive Rissala. It is up here,” said + Halley, unshipping his watering-bridle and fastening the man's hands. “Why + were you in the towers so foolish as to let us pass?” + </p> + <p> + “The valley is full of the dead,” said the Afghan. “It is better to fall + into the hands of the English than the hands of the dead. They march to + and fro below there. I saw them in the lightning.” + </p> + <p> + He recovered his composure after a little, and whispering, because + Halley's pistol was at his stomach, said: “What is this? There is no war + between us now, and the Mullah will kill me for not seeing you pass!” + </p> + <p> + “Rest easy,” said Halley; “we are coming to kill the Mullah, if God + please. His teeth have grown too long. No harm will come to thee unless + the daylight shows thee as a face which is desired by the gallows for + crime done. But what of the dead regiment?” + </p> + <p> + “I only kill within my own border,” said the man, immensely relieved. “The + dead regiment is below. The men must have passed through it on their + journey—four hundred dead on horses, stumbling among their own + graves, among the little heaps—dead men all, whom we slew.” + </p> + <p> + “Whew!” said Halley. “That accounts for my cursing Carter and the Major + cursing me. Four hundred sabres, eh? No wonder we thought there were a few + extra men in the troop. Kurruk Shah,” he whispered to a grizzled native + officer that lay within a few feet of him, “hast thou heard anything of a + dead Rissala in these hills? + </p> + <p> + “Assuredly,” said Kurruk Shah with a grim chuckle. “Otherwise, why did I, + who have served the Queen for seven-and-twenty years, and killed many + hill-dogs, shout aloud for quarter when the lightning revealed us to the + watch-towers? When I was a young man I saw the killing in the valley of + Sheor-Kit there at our feet, and I know the tale that grew up therefrom. + But how can the ghosts of unbelievers prevail against us who are of the + Faith? Strap that dog's hands a little tighter, Sahib. An Afghan is like + an eel.” + </p> + <p> + “But a dead Rissala,” said Halley, jerking his captive's wrist. “That is + foolish talk, Kurruk Shah. The dead are dead. Hold still, Sag.” The Afghan + wriggled. + </p> + <p> + “The dead are dead, and for that reason they walk at night. What need to + talk? We be men; we have our eyes and ears. Thou canst both see and hear + them down the hillside,” said Kurruk Shah composedly. + </p> + <p> + Halley stared and listened long and intently. The valley was full of + stifled noises, as every valley must be at night; but whether he saw or + heard more than was natural Halley alone knows, and he does not choose to + speak on the subject. + </p> + <p> + At last, and just before the dawn, a green rocket shot up from the far + side of the valley of Bersund, at the head of the gorge, to show that the + Goorkhas were in position. A red light from the infantry at left and right + answered it, and the cavalry burnt a white flare. Afghans in winter are + late sleepers, and it was not till full day that the Gulla Kutta Mullah's + men began to straggle from their huts, rubbing their eyes. They saw men in + green, and red, and brown uniforms, leaning on their arms, neatly arranged + all round the crater of the village of Bersund, in a cordon that not even + a wolf could have broken. They rubbed their eyes the more when a + pink-faced young man, who was not even in the Army, but represented the + Political Department, tripped down the hillside with two orderlies, rapped + at the door of the Gulla Kutta Mullah's house, and told him quietly to + step out and be tied up for safe transport. That same young man passed on + through the huts, tapping here one cateran and there another lightly with + his cane; and as each was pointed out, so he was tied up, staring + hopelessly at the crowned heights around where the English soldiers looked + down with incurious eyes. Only the Mullah tried to carry it off with + curses and high words, till a soldier who was tying his hands said:— + </p> + <p> + “None o' your lip! Why didn't you come out when you was ordered, instead + o' keeping us awake all night? You're no better than my own + barrack-sweeper, you white-'eaded old polyanthus! Kim up!” + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later the troops had gone away with the Mullah and his + thirteen friends. The dazed villagers were looking ruefully at a pile of + broken muskets and snapped swords, and wondering how in the world they had + come so to miscalculate the forbearance of the Indian Government. + </p> + <p> + It was a very neat little affair, neatly carried out, and the men + concerned were unofficially thanked for their services. + </p> + <p> + Yet it seems to me that much credit is also due to another regiment whose + name did not appear in brigade orders, and whose very existence is in + danger of being forgotten. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE DRUMS OF THE FORE AND AFT + </h2> + <p> + In the Army List they still stand as “The Fore and Fit Princess + Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen-Anspach's Merther-Tydfilshire Own Royal Loyal + Light Infantry, Regimental District 329A,” but the Army through all its + barracks and canteens knows them now as the “Fore and Aft.” They may in + time do something that shall make their new title honourable, but at + present they are bitterly ashamed, and the man who calls them “Fore and + Aft” does so at the risk of the head which is on his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + Two words breathed into the stables of a certain Cavalry Regiment will + bring the men out into the streets with belts and mops and bad language; + but a whisper of “Fore and Aft” will bring out this regiment with rifles. + </p> + <p> + Their one excuse is that they came again and did their best to finish the + job in style. But for a time all their world knows that they were openly + beaten, whipped, dumb-cowed, shaking and afraid. The men know it; their + officers know it; the Horse Guards know it, and when the next war comes + the enemy will know it also. There are two or three regiments of the Line + that have a black mark against their names which they will then wipe out; + and it will be excessively inconvenient for the troops upon whom they do + their wiping. + </p> + <p> + The courage of the British soldier is officially supposed to be above + proof, and, as a general rule, it is so. The exceptions are decently + shovelled out of sight, only to be referred to in the freshest of + unguarded talk that occasionally swamps a Mess-table at midnight. Then one + hears strange and horrible stories of men not following their officers, of + orders being given by those who had no right to give them, and of disgrace + that, but for the standing luck of the British Army, might have ended in + brilliant disaster. These are unpleasant stories to listen to, and the + Messes tell them under their breath, sitting by the big wood fires, and + the young officer bows his head and thinks to himself, please God, his men + shall never behave unhandily. + </p> + <p> + The British soldier is not altogether to be blamed for occasional lapses; + but this verdict he should not know. A moderately intelligent General will + waste six months in mastering the craft of the particular war that he may + be waging; a Colonel may utterly misunderstand the capacity of his + regiment for three months after it has taken the field, and even a Company + Commander may err and be deceived as to the temper and temperament of his + own handful: wherefore the soldier, and the soldier of to-day more + particularly, should not be blamed for falling back. He should be shot or + hanged afterwards—to encourage the others; but he should not be + vilified in newspapers, for that is want of tact and waste of space. + </p> + <p> + He has, let us say, been in the service of the Empress for, perhaps, four + years. He will leave in another two years. He has no inherited morals, and + four years are not sufficient to drive toughness into his fibre, or to + teach him how holy a thing is his Regiment. He wants to drink, he wants to + enjoy himself—in India he wants to save money—and he does not + in the least like getting hurt. He has received just sufficient education + to make him understand half the purport of the orders he receives, and to + speculate on the nature of clean, incised, and shattering wounds. Thus, if + he is told to deploy under fire preparatory to an attack, he knows that he + runs a very great risk of being killed while he is deploying, and suspects + that he is being thrown away to gain ten minutes' time. He may either + deploy with desperate swiftness, or he may shuffle, or bunch, or break, + according to the discipline under which he has lain for four years. + </p> + <p> + Armed with imperfect knowledge, cursed with the rudiments of an + imagination, hampered by the intense selfishness of the lower classes, and + unsupported by any regimental associations, this young man is suddenly + introduced to an enemy who in eastern lands is always ugly, generally tall + and hairy, and frequently noisy. If he looks to the right and the left and + sees old soldiers—men of twelve years' service, who, he knows, know + what they are about—taking a charge, rush, or demonstration without + embarrassment, he is consoled and applies his shoulder to the butt of his + rifle with a stout heart. His peace is the greater if he hears a senior, + who has taught him his soldiering and broken his head on occasion, + whispering: “They'll shout and carry on like this for five minutes. Then + they'll rush in, and then we've got 'em by the short hairs!” + </p> + <p> + But, on the other hand, if he sees only men of his own term of service, + turning white and playing with their triggers and saying: “What the Hell's + up now?” while the Company Commanders are sweating into their sword-hilts + and shouting: “Front rank, fix bayonets. Steady there—steady! Sight + for three hundred—no, for five! Lie down, all! Steady! Front rank + kneel!” and so forth, he becomes unhappy, and grows acutely miserable when + he hears a comrade turn over with the rattle of fire-irons falling into + the fender, and the grunt of a pole-axed ox. If he can be moved about a + little and allowed to watch the effect of his own fire on the enemy he + feels merrier, and may be then worked up to the blind passion of fighting, + which is, contrary to general belief, controlled by a chilly Devil and + shakes men like ague. If he is not moved about, and begins to feel cold at + the pit of the stomach, and in that crisis is badly mauled and hears + orders that were never given, he will break, and he will break badly, and + of all things under the light of the Sun there is nothing more terrible + than a broken British regiment. When the worst comes to the worst and the + panic is really epidemic, the men must be e'en let go, and the Company + Commanders had better escape to the enemy and stay there for safety's + sake. If they can be made to come again they are not pleasant men to meet; + because they will not break twice. + </p> + <p> + About thirty years from this date, when we have succeeded in + half-educating everything that wears trousers, our Army will be a + beautifully unreliable machine. It will know too much and it will do too + little. Later still, when all men are at the mental level of the officer + of to-day, it will sweep the earth. Speaking roughly, you must employ + either blackguards or gentlemen, or, best of all, blackguards commanded by + gentlemen, to do butcher's work with efficiency and despatch. The ideal + soldier should, of course, think for himself—the “Pocket-book” says + so. Unfortunately, to attain this virtue, he has to pass through the phase + of thinking of himself, and that is misdirected genius. A blackguard may + be slow to think for himself, but he is genuinely anxious to kill, and a + little punishment teaches him how to guard his own skin and perforate + another's. A powerfully prayerful Highland Regiment, officered by rank + Presbyterians, is, perhaps, one degree more terrible in action than a + hard-bitten thousand of irresponsible Irish ruffians led by most improper + young unbelievers. But these things prove the rule—which is that the + midway men are not to be trusted alone. They have ideas about the value of + life and an upbringing that has not taught them to go on and take the + chances. They are carefully unprovided with a backing of comrades who have + been shot over, and until that backing is re-introduced, as a great many + Regimental Commanders intend it shall be, they are more liable to disgrace + themselves than the size of the Empire or the dignity of the Army allows. + Their officers are as good as good can be, because their training begins + early, and God has arranged that a clean-run youth of the British middle + classes shall, in the matter of backbone, brains, and bowels, surpass all + other youths. For this reason a child of eighteen will stand up, doing + nothing, with a tin sword in his hand and joy in his heart until he is + dropped. If he dies, he dies like a gentleman. If he lives, he writes Home + that he has been “potted,” “sniped,” “chipped,” or “cut over,” and sits + down to besiege Government for a wound-gratuity until the next little war + breaks out, when he perjures himself before a Medical Board, blarneys his + Colonel, burns incense round his Adjutant, and is allowed to go to the + Front once more. + </p> + <p> + Which homily brings me directly to a brace of the most finished little + fiends that ever banged drum or tootled fife in the Band of a British + Regiment. They ended their sinful career by open and flagrant mutiny and + were shot for it. Their names were Jakin and Lew—Piggy Lew and they + were bold, bad drummer-boys, both of them frequently birched by the + Drum-Major of the Fore and Aft. + </p> + <p> + Jakin was a stunted child of fourteen, and Lew was about the same age. + When not looked after, they smoked and drank. They swore habitually after + the manner of the Barrack-room, which is cold swearing and comes from + between clenched teeth, and they fought religiously once a week. Jakin had + sprung from some London gutter, and may or may not have passed through Dr. + Barnardo's hands ere he arrived at the dignity of drummer-boy. Lew could + remember nothing except the Regiment and the delight of listening to the + Band from his earliest years. He hid somewhere in his grimy little soul a + genuine love for music, and was most mistakenly furnished with the head of + a cherub: insomuch that beautiful ladies who watched the Regiment in + church were wont to speak of him as a “darling.” They never heard his + vitriolic comments on their manners and morals, as he walked back to + barracks with the Band and matured fresh causes of offence against Jakin. + </p> + <p> + The other drummer-boys hated both lads on account of their illogical + conduct. Jakin might be pounding Lew, or Lew might be rubbing Jakin's head + in the dirt, but any attempt at aggression on the part of an outsider was + met by the combined forces of Lew and Jakin; and the consequences were + painful. The boys were the Ishmaels of the corps, but wealthy Ishmaels, + for they sold battles in alternate weeks for the sport of the barracks + when they were not pitted against other boys; and thus amassed money. + </p> + <p> + On this particular day there was dissension in the camp. They had just + been convicted afresh of smoking, which is bad for little boys who use + plug-tobacco, and Lew's contention was that Jakin had “stunk so 'orrid bad + from keepin' the pipe in pocket,” that he and he alone was responsible for + the birching they were both tingling under. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you I 'id the pipe back o' barracks,” said Jakin pacifically. + </p> + <p> + “You're a bloomin' liar,” said Lew without heat. + </p> + <p> + “You're a bloomin' little barstard,” said Jakin, strong in the knowledge + that his own ancestry was unknown. + </p> + <p> + Now there is one word in the extended vocabulary of barrack-room abuse + that cannot pass without comment. You may call a man a thief and risk + nothing. You may even call him a coward without finding more than a boot + whiz past your ear, but you must not call a man a bastard unless you are + prepared to prove it on his front teeth. + </p> + <p> + “You might ha' kep' that till I wasn't so sore,” said Lew sorrowfully, + dodging round Jakin's guard. + </p> + <p> + “I'll make you sorer,” said Jakin genially, and got home on Lew's + alabaster forehead. All would have gone well and this story, as the books + say, would never have been written, had not his evil fate prompted the + Bazar-Sergeant's son, a long, employless man of five-and-twenty, to put in + an appearance after the first round. He was eternally in need of money, + and knew that the boys had silver. + </p> + <p> + “Fighting again,” said he. “I'll report you to my father, and he'll report + you to the Colour-Sergeant.” + </p> + <p> + “What's that to you?” said Jakin with an unpleasant dilation of the + nostrils. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! nothing to me. You'll get into trouble, and you've been up too often + to afford that.” + </p> + <p> + “What the Hell do you know about what we've done?” asked Lew the Seraph. + “You aren't in the Army, you lousy, cadging civilian.” + </p> + <p> + He closed in on the man's left flank. + </p> + <p> + “Jes' 'cause you find two gentlemen settlin' their diff'rences with their + fistes you stick in your ugly nose where you aren't wanted. Run 'ome to + your 'arf-caste slut of a Ma—or we'll give you what-for,” said + Jakin. + </p> + <p> + The man attempted reprisals by knocking the boys' heads together. The + scheme would have succeeded had not Jakin punched him vehemently in the + stomach, or had Lew refrained from kicking his shins. They fought + together, bleeding and breathless, for half an hour, and, after heavy + punishment, triumphantly pulled down their opponent as terriers pull down + a jackal. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” gasped Jakin, “I'll give you what-for.” He proceeded to pound the + man's features while Lew stamped on the outlying portions of his anatomy. + Chivalry is not a strong point in the composition of the average + drummer-boy. He fights, as do his betters, to make his mark. + </p> + <p> + Ghastly was the ruin that escaped, and awful was the wrath of the + Bazar-Sergeant. Awful too was the scene in Orderly-room when the two + reprobates appeared to answer the charge of half-murdering a “civilian.” + The Bazar-Sergeant thirsted for a criminal action, and his son lied. The + boys stood to attention while the black clouds of evidence accumulated. + </p> + <p> + “You little devils are more trouble than the rest of the Regiment put + together,” said the Colonel angrily. “One might as well admonish + thistledown, and I can't well put you in cells or under stoppages. You + must be birched again.” + </p> + <p> + “Beg y' pardon, Sir. Can't we say nothin' in our own defence, Sir?” + shrilled Jakin. + </p> + <p> + “Hey! What? Are you going to argue with me?” said the Colonel. + </p> + <p> + “No, Sir,” said Lew. “But if a man come to you, Sir, and said he was going + to report you, Sir, for 'aving a bit of a turn-up with a friend, Sir, an' + wanted to get money out o' you, Sir-” + </p> + <p> + The Orderly-room exploded in a roar of laughter. “Well?” said the Colonel. + </p> + <p> + “That was what that measly jarnwar there did, Sir, and 'e'd 'a' done it, + Sir, if we 'adn't prevented 'im. We didn't 'it 'im much, Sir. 'E 'adn't no + manner o' right to interfere with us, Sir. I don't mind bein' birched by + the Drum-Major, Sir, nor yet reported by any Corp'ral, but I'm—but I + don't think it's fair, Sir, for a civilian to come an' talk over a man in + the Army.” + </p> + <p> + A second shout of laughter shook the Orderly-room, but the Colonel was + grave. + </p> + <p> + “What sort of characters have these boys?” he asked of the Regimental + Sergeant-Major. + </p> + <p> + “Accordin' to the Bandmaster, Sir,” returned that revered official—the + only soul in the Regiment whom the boys feared—“they do everything + but lie, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it like we'd go for that man for fun, Sir?” said Lew, pointing to the + plaintiff. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, admonished—admonished!” said the Colonel testily, and when the + boys had gone he read the Bazar-Sergeant's son a lecture on the sin of + unprofitable meddling, and gave orders that the Bandmaster should keep the + Drums in better discipline. + </p> + <p> + “If either of you come to practice again with so much as a scratch on your + two ugly little faces,” thundered the Bandmaster, “I'll tell the + Drum-Major to take the skin off your backs. Understand that, you young + devils.” + </p> + <p> + Then he repented of his speech for just the length of time that Lew, + looking like a seraph in red worsted embellishments, took the place of one + of the trumpets—in hospital—and rendered the echo of a + battle-piece. Lew certainly was a musician, and had often in his more + exalted moments expressed a yearning to master every instrument of the + Band. + </p> + <p> + “There's nothing to prevent your becoming a Bandmaster, Lew,” said the + Bandmaster, who had composed waltzes of his own, and worked day and night + in the interests of the Band. + </p> + <p> + “What did he say?” demanded Jakin after practice. + </p> + <p> + “Said I might be a bloomin' Bandmaster, an' be asked in to 'ave a glass o' + sherry wine on Mess-nights.” + </p> + <p> + “Ho! 'Said you might be a bloomin' noncombatant, did 'e! That's just about + wot 'e would say. When I've put in my boy's service it's a bloomin' shame + that doesn't count for pension—I'll take on as a privit. Then I'll + be a Lance in a year—knowin' what I know about the ins an' outs o' + things. In three years I'll be a bloomin' Sergeant. I won't marry then, + not I! I'll 'old on and learn the orf'cers' ways an' apply for exchange + into a reg'ment that doesn't know all about me. Then I'll be a bloomin' + orf'cer. Then I'll ask you to 'ave a glass o' sherry wine, Mister Lew, an' + you'll bloomin' well 'ave to stay in the hanty-room while the + Mess-Sergeant brings it to your dirty 'ands.” + </p> + <p> + “S'pose I'm going to be a Bandmaster? Not I, quite. I'll be a orf'cer too. + There's nothin' like takin' to a thing an' stickin' to it, the + Schoolmaster says. The Reg'ment don't go 'ome for another seven years. + I'll be a Lance then or near to.” + </p> + <p> + Thus the boys discussed their futures, and conducted themselves piously + for a week. That is to say, Lew started a flirtation with the + Colour-Sergeant's daughter, aged thirteen—“not,” as he explained to + Jakin, “with any intention o' matrimony, but by way o' keep in' my 'and + in.” And the black-haired Cris Delighan enjoyed that flirtation more than + previous ones, and the other drummer-boys raged furiously together, and + Jakin preached sermons on the dangers of bein' tangled along o' + petticoats. + </p> + <p> + But neither love nor virtue would have held Lew long in the paths of + propriety had not the rumour gone abroad that the Regiment was to be sent + on active service, to take part in a war which, for the sake of brevity, + we will call “The War of the Lost Tribes.” + </p> + <p> + The barracks had the rumour almost before the Mess-room, and of all the + nine hundred men in barracks, not ten had seen a shot fired in anger. The + Colonel had, twenty years ago, assisted at a Frontier expedition; one of + the Majors had seen service at the Cape; a confirmed deserter in E Company + had helped to clear streets in Ireland; but that was all. The Regiment had + been put by for many years. The overwhelming mass of its rank and file had + from three to four years' service; the non-commissioned officers were + under thirty years old; and men and sergeants alike had forgotten to speak + of the stories written in brief upon the Colours—the New Colours + that had been formally blessed by an Archbishop in England ere the + Regiment came away. They wanted to go to the Front—they were + enthusiastically anxious to go—but they had no knowledge of what war + meant, and there was none to tell them. They were an educated regiment, + the percentage of school-certificates in their ranks was high, and most of + the men could do more than read and write. They had been recruited in + loyal observance of the territorial idea; but they themselves had no + notion of that idea. They were made up of drafts from an over-populated + manufacturing district. The system had put flesh and muscle upon their + small bones, but it could not put heart into the sons of those who for + generations had done overmuch work for overscanty pay, had sweated in + drying-rooms, stooped over looms, coughed among white-lead, and shivered + on lime-barges. The men had found food and rest in the Army, and now they + were going to fight “niggers”—people who ran away if you shook a + stick at them. Wherefore they cheered lustily when the rumour ran, and the + shrewd, clerkly non-commissioned officers speculated on the chances of + batta and of saving their pay. At Headquarters men said: “The Fore and Fit + have never been under fire within the last generation. Let us, therefore, + break them in easily by setting them to guard lines of communication.” And + this would have been done but for the fact that British Regiments were + wanted—badly wanted—at the Front, and there were doubtful + Native Regiments that could fill the minor duties. “Brigade 'em with two + strong Regiments,” said Headquarters. “They may be knocked about a bit, + but they'll learn their business before they come through. Nothing like a + night-alarm and a little cutting-up of stragglers to make a Regiment smart + in the field. Wait till they've had half a dozen sentries' throats cut.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel wrote with delight that the temper of his men was excellent, + that the Regiment was all that could be wished, and as sound as a bell. + The Majors smiled with a sober joy, and the subalterns waltzed in pairs + down the Mess-room after dinner, and nearly shot themselves at + revolver-practice. But there was consternation in the hearts of Jakin and + Lew. What was to be done with the Drums? Would the Band go to the Front? + How many of the Drums would accompany the Regiment? + </p> + <p> + They took counsel together, sitting in a tree and smoking. + </p> + <p> + “It's more than a bloomin' toss-up they'll leave us be'ind at the Depot + with the women. You'll like that,” said Jakin sarcastically. + </p> + <p> + “Cause o' Cris, y' mean? Wot's a woman, or a 'ole bloomin' depot o' women, + 'longside o' the chanst of field-service? You know I'm as keen on goin' as + you,” said Lew. + </p> + <p> + “Wish I was a bloomin' bugler,” said Jakin sadly. “They'll take Tom Kidd + along, that I can plaster a wall with, an' like as not they won't take + us.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let's go an' make Tom Kidd so bloomin' sick 'e can't bugle no more. + You 'old 'is 'ands an' I'll kick him,” said Lew, wriggling on the branch. + </p> + <p> + “That ain't no good neither. We ain't the sort o' characters to presoom on + our rep'tations—they're bad. If they have the Band at the Depot we + don't go, and no error there. If they take the Band we may get cast for + medical unfitness. Are you medical fit, Piggy?” said Jakin, digging Lew in + the ribs with force. + </p> + <p> + “Yus,” said Lew with an oath. “The Doctor says your 'eart's weak through + smokin' on an empty stummick. Throw a chest an' I'll try yer.” + </p> + <p> + Jakin threw out his chest, which Lew smote with all his might. Jakin + turned very pale, gasped, crowed, screwed up his eyes, and said—“That's + all right.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll do,” said Lew. “I've 'eard o' men dying when you 'it 'em fair on + the breastbone.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't bring us no nearer goin', though,” said Jakin. “Do you know where + we're ordered?” + </p> + <p> + “Gawd knows, an' 'E won't split on a pal. Somewheres up to the Front to + kill Paythans—hairy big beggars that turn you inside out if they get + 'old o' you. They say their women are good-looking, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Any loot?” asked the abandoned Jakin. + </p> + <p> + “Not a bloomin' anna, they say, unless you dig up the ground an' see what + the niggers 'ave 'id. They're a poor lot.” Jakin stood upright on the + branch and gazed across the plain. + </p> + <p> + “Lew,” said he, “there's the Colonel coming. 'Colonel's a good old beggar. + Let's go an' talk to 'im.” + </p> + <p> + Lew nearly fell out of the tree at the audacity of the suggestion. Like + Jakin he feared not God, neither regarded he Man, but there are limits + even to the audacity of a drummer-boy, and to speak to a Colonel was— + </p> + <p> + But Jakin had slid down the trunk and doubled in the direction of the + Colonel. That officer was walking wrapped in thought and visions of a C. + B. yes, even a K. C. B., for had he not at command one of the best + Regiments of the Line—the Fore and Fit? And he was aware of two + small boys charging down upon him. Once before it had been solemnly + reported to him that “the Drums were in a state of mutiny,” Jakin and Lew + being the ringleaders. This looked like an organised conspiracy. + </p> + <p> + The boys halted at twenty yards, walked to the regulation four paces, and + saluted together, each as well set-up as a ramrod and little taller. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel was in a genial mood; the boys appeared very forlorn and + unprotected on the desolate plain, and one of them was handsome. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” said the Colonel, recognising them. “Are you going to pull me down + in the open? I'm sure I never interfere with you, even though”—he + sniffed suspiciously—“you have been smoking.” + </p> + <p> + It was time to strike while the iron was hot. Their hearts beat + tumultuously. + </p> + <p> + “Beg y' pardon, Sir,” began Jakin. “The Reg'ment's ordered on active + service, Sir?” + </p> + <p> + “So I believe,” said the Colonel courteously. + </p> + <p> + “Is the Band goin', Sir?” said both together. Then, without pause, “We're + goin', Sir, ain't we?” + </p> + <p> + “You!” said the Colonel, stepping back the more fully to take in the two + small figures. “You! You'd die in the first march.” + </p> + <p> + “No, we wouldn't, Sir. We can march with the Reg'ment anywheres—p'rade + an' anywhere else,” said Jakin. + </p> + <p> + “If Tom Kidd goes 'e'll shut up like a clasp-knife,” said Lew. “Tom 'as + very-close veins in both 'is legs, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Very how much?” + </p> + <p> + “Very-close veins, Sir. That's why they swells after long p'rade, Sir. If + 'e can go, we can go, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + Again the Colonel looked at them long and intently. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the Band is going,” he said as gravely as though he had been + addressing a brother officer. “Have you any parents, either of you two?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Sir,” rejoicingly from Lew and Jakin. “We're both orphans, Sir. + There's no one to be considered of on our account, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + “You poor little sprats, and you want to go up to the Front with the + Regiment, do you? Why?” + </p> + <p> + “I've wore the Queen's Uniform for two years,” said Jakin. “It's very + 'ard, Sir, that a man don't get no recompense for doin' of 'is dooty, + Sir.” + </p> + <p> + “An'—an' if I don't go, Sir,” interrupted Lew, “the Bandmaster 'e + says 'e'll catch an' make a bloo—a blessed musician o' me, Sir. + Before I've seen any service, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel made no answer for a long time. Then he said quietly: “If + you're passed by the Doctor I dare say you can go. I shouldn't smoke if I + were you.” + </p> + <p> + The boys saluted and disappeared. The Colonel walked home and told the + story to his wife, who nearly cried over it. The Colonel was well pleased. + If that was the temper of the children, what would not the men do? + </p> + <p> + Jakin and Lew entered the boys' barrack-room with great stateliness, and + refused to hold any conversation with their comrades for at least ten + minutes. Then, bursting with pride, Jakin drawled: “I've bin intervooin' + the Colonel. Good old beggar is the Colonel. Says I to 'im, 'Colonel,' + says I, 'let me go to the Front, along o' the Reg'ment.—'To the + Front you shall go,' says 'e, 'an' I only wish there was more like you + among the dirty little devils that bang the bloomin' drums.' Kidd, if you + throw your 'courtrements at me for tellin' you the truth to your own + advantage, your legs'll swell.” + </p> + <p> + None the less there was a Battle-Royal in the barrack-room, for the boys + were consumed with envy and hate, and neither Jakin nor Lew behaved in + conciliatory wise. + </p> + <p> + “I'm goin' out to say adoo to my girl,” said Lew, to cap the climax. + “Don't none o' you touch my kit because it's wanted for active service; me + bein' specially invited to go by the Colonel.” + </p> + <p> + He strolled forth and whistled in the clump of trees at the back of the + Married Quarters till Cris came to him, and, the preliminary kisses being + given and taken, Lew began to explain the situation. + </p> + <p> + “I'm goin' to the Front with the Reg'ment,” he said valiantly. + </p> + <p> + “Piggy, you're a little liar,” said Cris, but her heart misgave her, for + Lew was not in the habit of lying. + </p> + <p> + “Liar yourself, Cris,” said Lew, slipping an arm round her. “I'm goin'. + When the Reg'ment marches out you'll see me with 'em, all galliant and + gay. Give us another kiss, Cris, on the strength of it.” + </p> + <p> + “If you'd on'y a-stayed at the Depot—where you ought to ha' bin—you + could get as many of 'em as—as you dam please,” whimpered Cris, + putting up her mouth. + </p> + <p> + “It's 'ard, Cris. I grant you it's 'ard, But what's a man to do? If I'd + a-stayed at the Depot, you wouldn't think anything of me.” + </p> + <p> + “Like as not, but I'd 'ave you with me, Piggy. An' all the thinkin' in the + world isn't like kissin'.” + </p> + <p> + “An' all the kissin' in the world isn't like 'avin' a medal to wear on the + front o' your coat.” + </p> + <p> + “You won't get no medal.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yus, I shall though. Me an' Jakin are the only acting-drummers + that'll be took along. All the rest is full men, an' we'll get our medals + with them.” + </p> + <p> + “They might ha' taken anybody but you, Piggy. You'll get killed—you're + so venturesome. Stay with me, Piggy darlin', down at the Depot, an' I'll + love you true, for ever.” + </p> + <p> + “Ain't you goin' to do that now, Cris? You said you was.” + </p> + <p> + “O' course I am, but th' other's more comfortable. Wait till you've growed + a bit, Piggy. You aren't no taller than me now.” + </p> + <p> + “I've bin in the Army for two years, an' I'm not goin' to get out of a + chanst o' seein' service, an' don't you try to make me do so. I'll come + back, Cris, an' when I take on as a man I'll marry you—marry you + when I'm a Lance.” + </p> + <p> + “Promise, Piggy.” + </p> + <p> + Lew reflected on the future as arranged by Jakin a short time previously, + but Cris's mouth was very near to his own. + </p> + <p> + “I promise, s'elp me Gawd!” said he. + </p> + <p> + Cris slid an arm round his neck. + </p> + <p> + “I won't 'old you back no more, Piggy. Go away an' get your medal, an' + I'll make you a new button-bag as nice as I know how,” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Put some o' your 'air into it, Cris, an' I'll keep it in my pocket so + long's I'm alive.” + </p> + <p> + Then Cris wept anew, and the interview ended. Public feeling among the + drummer-boys rose to fever pitch, and the lives of Jakin and Lew became + unenviable. Not only had they been permitted to enlist two years before + the regulation boy's age—fourteen—but, by virtue, it seemed, + of their extreme youth, they were allowed to go to the Front—which + thing had not happened to acting-drummers within the knowledge of boy. The + Band which was to accompany the Regiment had been cut down to the + regulation twenty men, the surplus returning to the ranks. Jakin and Lew + were attached to the Band as supernumeraries, though they would much have + preferred being company buglers. + </p> + <p> + “Don't matter much,” said Jakin after the medical inspection. “Be thankful + that we're 'lowed to go at all. The Doctor 'e said that if we could stand + what we took from the Bazar-Sergeant's son we'd stand pretty nigh + anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Which we will,” said Lew, looking tenderly at the ragged and ill-made + housewife that Cris had given him, with a lock of her hair worked into a + sprawling “L” upon the cover. + </p> + <p> + “It was the best I could,” she sobbed. “I wouldn't let mother nor the + Sergeant's tailor 'elp me. Keep it always, Piggy, an' remember I love you + true.” + </p> + <p> + They marched to the railway station, nine hundred and sixty strong, and + every soul in cantonments turned out to see them go. The drummers gnashed + their teeth at Jakin and Lew marching with the Band, the married women + wept upon the platform, and the Regiment cheered its noble self black in + the face. + </p> + <p> + “A nice level lot,” said the Colonel to the Second-in-Command as they + watched the first four companies entraining. + </p> + <p> + “Fit to do anything,” said the Second-in-Command enthusiastically. “But it + seems to me they're a thought too young and tender for the work in hand. + It's bitter cold up at the Front now.” + </p> + <p> + “They're sound enough,” said the Colonel. “We must take our chance of sick + casualties.” + </p> + <p> + So they went northward, ever northward, past droves and droves of camels, + armies of camp-followers, and legions of laden mules, the throng + thickening day by day, till with a shriek the train pulled up at a + hopelessly congested junction where six lines of temporary track + accommodated six forty-waggon trains; where whistles blew, Babus sweated, + and Commissariat officers swore from dawn till far into the night, amid + the wind-driven chaff of the fodder-bales and the lowing of a thousand + steers. + </p> + <p> + “Hurry up—you're badly wanted at the Front,” was the message that + greeted the Fore and Aft, and the occupants of the Red Cross carriages + told the same tale. + </p> + <p> + “Tisn't so much the bloomin' fightin',” gasped a headbound trooper of + Hussars to a knot of admiring Fore and Afts. “Tisn't so much the bloomin' + fightin', though there's enough o' that. It's the bloomin' food an' the + bloomin' climate. Frost all night 'cept when it hails, and b'iling sun all + day, and the water stinks fit to knock you down. I got my 'ead chipped + like a egg; I've got pneumonia too, an' my guts is all out o' order. + 'Tain't no bloomin' picnic in those parts, I can tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Wot are the niggers like?” demanded a private. + </p> + <p> + “There's some prisoners in that train yonder. Go an' look at 'em. They're + the aristocracy o' the country. The common folk are a dashed sight uglier. + If you want to know what they fight with, reach under my seat an' pull out + the long knife that's there.” + </p> + <p> + They dragged out and beheld for the first time the grim, bone-handled, + triangular Afghan knife. It was almost as long as Lew. + </p> + <p> + “That's the thing to j'int ye,” said the trooper feebly. “It can take off + a man's arm at the shoulder as easy as slicing butter. I halved the beggar + that used that un, but there's more of his likes up above. They don't + understand thrustin', but they're devils to slice.” + </p> + <p> + The men strolled across the tracks to inspect the Afghan prisoners. They + were unlike any “niggers” that the Fore and Aft had ever met—these + huge, black-haired, scowling sons of the Beni-Israel. As the men stared + the Afghans spat freely and muttered one to another with lowered eyes. + </p> + <p> + “My eyes! Wot awful swine!” said Jakin, who was in the rear of the + procession. “Say, ole man, how you got puckrowed, eh? Kiswasti you wasn't + hanged for your ugly face, hey?” + </p> + <p> + The tallest of the company turned, his leg-irons clanking at the movement, + and stared at the boy. “See!” he cried to his fellows in Pushto. “They + send children against us. What a people, and what fools!” + </p> + <p> + “Hya.” said Jakin, nodding his head cheerily. “You go down-country. Khana + get, peenikapanee get—live like a bloomin' Raja ke marfik. That's a + better bandobust than baynit get it in your innards. Good-bye, ole man. + Take care o' your beautiful figure'ead, an' try to look kushy.” + </p> + <p> + The men laughed and fell in for their first march, when they began to + realise that a soldier's life is not all beer and skittles. They were much + impressed with the size and bestial ferocity of the niggers whom they had + now learned to call “Paythans,” and more with the exceeding discomfort of + their own surroundings. Twenty old soldiers in the corps would have taught + them how to make themselves moderately snug at night, but they had no old + soldiers, and, as the troops on the line of march said, “they lived like + pigs.” They learned the heart-breaking cussedness of camp-kitchens and + camels and the depravity of an E. P. tent and a wither-wrung mule. They + studied animalculae in water, and developed a few cases of dysentery in + their study. + </p> + <p> + At the end of their third march they were disagreeably surprised by the + arrival in their camp of a hammered iron slug which, fired from a steady + rest at seven hundred yards, flicked out the brains of a private seated by + the fire. This robbed them of their peace for a night, and was the + beginning of a long-range fire carefully calculated to that end. In the + daytime they saw nothing except an unpleasant puff of smoke from a crag + above the line of march. At night there were distant spurts of flame and + occasional casualties, which set the whole camp blazing into the gloom + and, occasionally, into opposite tents. Then they swore vehemently and + vowed that this was magnificent but not war. + </p> + <p> + Indeed it was not. The Regiment could not halt for reprisals against the + sharpshooters of the country-side. Its duty was to go forward and make + connection with the Scotch and Goorkha troops with which it was brigaded. + The Afghans knew this, and knew too, after their first tentative shots, + that they were dealing with a raw regiment Thereafter they devoted + themselves to the task of keeping the Fore and Aft on the strain. Not for + anything would they have taken equal liberties with a seasoned corps—with + the wicked little Goorkhas, whose delight it was to lie out in the open on + a dark night and stalk their stalkers—with the terrible big men + dressed in women's clothes, who could be heard praying to their God in the + night-watches, and whose peace of mind no amount of “sniping” could shake—or + with those vile Sikhs, who marched so ostentatiously unprepared and who + dealt out such grim reward to those who tried to profit by that + unpreparedness. This white regiment was different—quite different. + It slept like a hog, and, like a hog, charged in every direction when it + was roused. Its sentries walked with a footfall that could be heard for a + quarter of a mile; would fire at anything that moved—even a driven + donkey—and when they had once fired, could be scientifically + “rushed” and laid out a horror and an offence against the morning sun. + Then there were camp-followers who straggled and could be cut up without + fear. Their shrieks would disturb the white boys, and the loss of their + services would inconvenience them sorely. + </p> + <p> + Thus, at every march, the hidden enemy became bolder and the Regiment + writhed and twisted under attacks it could not avenge. The crowning + triumph was a sudden night-rush ending in the cutting of many tent-ropes, + the collapse of the sodden canvas, and a glorious knifing of the men who + struggled and kicked below. It was a great deed, neatly carried out, and + it shook the already shaken nerves of the Fore and Aft. All the courage + that they had been required to exercise up to this point was the “two + o'clock in the morning courage”; and, so far, they had only succeeded in + shooting their comrades and losing their sleep. + </p> + <p> + Sullen, discontented, cold, savage, sick, with their uniforms dulled and + unclean, the Fore and Aft joined their Brigade. + </p> + <p> + “I hear you had a tough time of it coming up,” said the Brigadier. But + when he saw the hospital-sheets his face fell. + </p> + <p> + “This is bad,” said he to himself. “They're as rotten as sheep.” And aloud + to the Colonel—“I'm afraid we can't spare you just yet. We want all + we have, else I should have given you ten days to recover in.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel winced. “On my honour, Sir,” he returned, “there is not the + least necessity to think of sparing us. My men have been rather mauled and + upset without a fair return. They only want to go in somewhere where they + can see what's before them.” + </p> + <p> + “Can't say I think much of the Fore and Fit,” said the Brigadier in + confidence to his Brigade-Major. “They've lost all their soldiering, and, + by the trim of them, might have marched through the country from the other + side. A more fagged-out set of men I never put eyes on.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, they'll improve as the work goes on. The parade gloss has been rubbed + off a little, but they'll put on field polish before long,” said the + Brigade-Major. “They've been mauled, and they don't quite understand it.” + </p> + <p> + They did not. All the hitting was on one side, and it was cruelly hard + hitting with accessories that made them sick. There was also the real + sickness that laid hold of a strong man and dragged him howling to the + grave. Worst of all, their officers knew just as little of the country as + the men themselves, and looked as if they did. The Fore and Aft were in a + thoroughly unsatisfactory condition, but they believed that all would be + well if they could once get a fair go-in at the enemy. Pot-shots up and + down the valleys were unsatisfactory, and the bayonet never seemed to get + a chance. Perhaps it was as well, for a long-limbed Afghan with a knife + had a reach of eight feet, and could carry away lead that would disable + three Englishmen. + </p> + <p> + The Fore and Aft would like some rifle-practice at the enemy—all + seven hundred rifles blazing together. That wish showed the mood of the + men. + </p> + <p> + The Goorkhas walked into their camp, and in broken, barrack-room English + strove to fraternise with them: offered them pipes of tobacco and stood + them treat at the canteen. But the Fore and Aft, not knowing much of the + nature of the Goorkhas, treated them as they would treat any other + “niggers,” and the little men in green trotted back to their firm friends + the Highlanders, and with many grins confided to them: “That dam white + regiment no dam use. Sulky—ugh! Dirty—ugh! Hya, any tot for + Johnny?” Whereat the Highlanders smote the Goorkhas as to the head, and + told them not to vilify a British Regiment, and the Goorkhas grinned + cavernously, for the Highlanders were their elder brothers and entitled to + the privileges of kinship. The common soldier who touches a Goorkha is + more than likely to have his head sliced open. + </p> + <p> + Three days later the Brigadier arranged a battle according to the rules of + war and the peculiarity of the Afghan temperament. The enemy were massing + in inconvenient strength among the hills, and the moving of many green + standards warned him that the tribes were “up” in aid of the Afghan + regular troops. A squadron and a half of Bengal Lancers represented the + available Cavalry, and two screw-guns, borrowed from a column thirty miles + away, the Artillery at the General's disposal. + </p> + <p> + “If they stand, as I've a very strong notion that they will, I fancy we + shall see an infantry fight that will be worth watching,” said the + Brigadier. “We'll do it in style. Each regiment shall be played into + action by its Band, and we'll hold the Cavalry in reserve.” + </p> + <p> + “For all the reserve?” somebody asked. + </p> + <p> + “For all the reserve; because we're going to crumple them up,” said the + Brigadier, who was an extraordinary Brigadier, and did not believe in the + value of a reserve when dealing with Asiatics. Indeed, when you come to + think of it, had the British Army consistently waited for reserves in all + its little affairs, the boundaries of Our Empire would have stopped at + Brighton beach. + </p> + <p> + The battle was to be a glorious battle. + </p> + <p> + The three regiments debouching from three separate gorges, after duly + crowning the heights above, were to converge from the centre, left, and + right upon what we will call the Afghan army, then stationed towards the + lower extremity of a flat-bottomed valley. Thus it will be seen that three + sides of the valley practically belonged to the English, while the fourth + was strictly Afghan property. In the event of defeat the Afghans had the + rocky hills to fly to, where the fire from the guerrilla tribes in aid + would cover their retreat. In the event of victory these same tribes would + rush down and lend their weight to the rout of the British. + </p> + <p> + The screw-guns were to shell the head of each Afghan rush that was made in + close formation, and the Cavalry, held in reserve in the right valley, + were to gently stimulate the break-up which would follow on the combined + attack. The Brigadier, sitting upon a rock overlooking the valley, would + watch the battle unrolled at his feet. The Fore and Aft would debouch from + the central gorge, the Goorkhas from the left, and the Highlanders from + the right, for the reason that the left flank of the enemy seemed as + though it required the most hammering. It was not every day that an Afghan + force would take ground in the open, and the Brigadier was resolved to + make the most of it. + </p> + <p> + “If we only had a few more men,” he said plaintively, “we could surround + the creatures and crumple 'em up thoroughly. As it is, I'm afraid we can + only cut them up as they run. It's a great pity.” + </p> + <p> + The Fore and Aft had enjoyed unbroken peace for five days, and were + beginning, in spite of dysentery, to recover their nerve. But they were + not happy, for they did not know the work in hand, and had they known, + would not have known how to do it. Throughout those five days in which old + soldiers might have taught them the craft of the game, they discussed + together their misadventures in the past—how such an one was alive + at dawn and dead ere the dusk, and with what shrieks and struggles such + another had given up his soul under the Afghan knife. Death was a new and + horrible thing to the sons of mechanics who were used to die decently of + zymotic disease; and their careful conservation in barracks had done + nothing to make them look upon it with less dread. + </p> + <p> + Very early in the dawn the bugles began to blow, and the Fore and Aft, + filled with a misguided enthusiasm, turned out without waiting for a cup + of coffee and a biscuit; and were rewarded by being kept under arms in the + cold while the other regiments leisurely prepared for the fray. All the + world knows that it is ill taking the breeks off a Highlander. It is much + iller to try to make him stir unless he is convinced of the necessity for + haste. 507 The Fore and Aft waited, leaning upon their rifles and + listening to the protests of their empty stomachs. The Colonel did his + best to remedy the default of lining as soon as it was borne in upon him + that the affair would not begin at once, and so well did he succeed that + the coffee was just ready when—the men moved off, their Band + leading. Even then there had been a mistake in time, and the Fore and Aft + came out into the valley ten minutes before the proper hour. Their Band + wheeled to the right after reaching the open, and retired behind a little + rocky knoll still playing while the Regiment went past. + </p> + <p> + It was not a pleasant sight that opened on the uninstructed view, for the + lower end of the valley appeared to be filled by an army in position—real + and actual regiments attired in red coats, and—of this there was no + doubt—firing Martini-Henry bullets which cut up the ground a hundred + yards in front of the leading company. Over that pock-marked ground the + Regiment had to pass, and it opened the ball with a general and profound + courtesy to the piping pickets; ducking in perfect time, as though it had + been brazed on a rod. Being half capable of thinking for itself, it fired + a volley by the simple process of pitching its rifle into its shoulder and + pulling the trigger. The bullets may have accounted for some of the + watchers on the hill side, but they certainly did not affect the mass of + enemy in front, while the noise of the rifles drowned any orders that + might have been given. + </p> + <p> + “Good God!” said the Brigadier, sitting on the rock high above all. “That + Regiment has spoilt the whole show. Hurry up the others, and let the + screw-guns get off.” + </p> + <p> + But the screw-guns, in working round the heights, had stumbled upon a + wasp's nest of a small mud fort which they incontinently shelled at eight + hundred yards, to the huge discomfort of the occupants, who were + unaccustomed to weapons of such devilish precision. + </p> + <p> + The Fore and Aft continued to go forward, but with shortened stride. Where + were the other regiments, and why did these niggers use Martinis? They + took open order instinctively, lying down and firing at random, rushing a + few paces forward and lying down again, according to the regulations. Once + in this formation, each man felt himself desperately alone, and edged in + towards his fellow for comfort's sake. + </p> + <p> + Then the crack of his neighbor's rifle at his ear led him to fire as + rapidly as he could—again for the sake of the comfort of the noise. + The reward was not long delayed. Five volleys plunged the files in banked + smoke impenetrable to the eye, and the bullets began to take ground twenty + or thirty yards in front of the firers, as the weight of the bayonet + dragged down and to the right arms wearied with holding the kick of the + leaping Martini. The Company Commanders peered helplessly through the + smoke, the more nervous mechanically trying to fan it away with their + helmets. + </p> + <p> + “High and to the left!” bawled a Captain till he was hoarse. “No good! + Cease firing, and let it drift away a bit.” + </p> + <p> + Three and four times the bugles shrieked the order, and when it was obeyed + the Fore and Aft looked that their foe should be lying before them in mown + swaths of men. A light wind drove the smoke to leeward, and showed the + enemy still in position and apparently unaffected. A quarter of a ton of + lead had been buried a furlong in front of them, as the ragged earth + attested. + </p> + <p> + That was not demoralizing to the Afghans, who have not European nerves. + They were waiting for the mad riot to die down, and were firing quietly + into the heart of the smoke. A private of the Fore and Aft spun up his + company shrieking with agony, another was kicking the earth and gasping, + and a third, ripped through the lower intestines by a jagged bullet, was + calling aloud on his comrades to put him out of his pain. These were the + casualties, and they were not soothing to hear or see. The smoke cleared + to a dull haze. + </p> + <p> + Then the foe began to shout with a great shouting, and a mass—a + black mass—detached itself from the main body, and rolled over the + ground at horrid speed. It was composed of, perhaps, three hundred men, + who would shout and fire and slash if the rush of their fifty comrades who + were determined to die carried home. The fifty were Ghazis, half maddened + with drugs and wholly mad with religious fanaticism. When they rushed the + British fire ceased, and in the lull the order was given to close ranks + and meet them with the bayonet. + </p> + <p> + Any one who knew the business could have told the Fore and Aft that the + only way of dealing with a Ghazi rush is by volleys at long ranges; + because a man who means to die, who desires to die, who will gain heaven + by dying, must, in nine cases out of ten, kill a man who has a lingering + prejudice in favour of life. Where they should have closed and gone + forward, the Fore and Aft opened out and skirmished, and where they should + have opened out and fired, they closed and waited. + </p> + <p> + A man dragged from his blankets half awake and unfed is never in a + pleasant frame of mind. Nor does his happiness increase when he watches + the whites of the eyes of three hundred six-foot fiends upon whose beards + the foam is lying, upon whose tongues is a roar of wrath, and in whose + hands are yard-long knives. + </p> + <p> + The Fore and Aft heard the Goorkha bugles bringing that regiment forward + at the double, while the neighing of the Highland pipes came from the + left. They strove to stay where they were, though the bayonets wavered + down the line like the oars of a ragged boat. Then they felt body to body + the amazing physical strength of their foes; a shriek of pain ended the + rush, and the knives fell amid scenes not to be told. The men clubbed + together and smote blindly—as often as not at their own fellows. + Their front crumpled like paper, and the fifty Ghazis passed on; their + backers, now drunk with success, fighting as madly as they. + </p> + <p> + Then the rear ranks were bidden to close up, and the subalterns dashed + into the stew—alone. For the rear-ranks had heard the clamour in + front, the yells and the howls of pain, and had seen the dark stale blood + that makes afraid. They were not going to stay. It was the rushing of the + camps over again. Let their officers go to Hell, if they chose; they would + get away from the knives. + </p> + <p> + “Come on!” shrieked the subalterns, and their men, cursing them, drew + back, each closing in to his neighbour and wheeling round. + </p> + <p> + Charteris and Devlin, subalterns of the last company, faced their death + alone in the belief that their men would follow. + </p> + <p> + “You've killed me, you cowards,” sobbed Devlin and dropped, cut from the + shoulder-strap to the centre of the chest; and a fresh detachment of his + men retreating, always retreating, trampled him under foot as they made + for the pass whence they had emerged. + </p> + <p> + I kissed her in the kitchen and I kissed her in the hall Child'un, + child'un, follow me! Oh Golly, said the cook, is he gwine to kiss us all? + Halla—Halla—Halla—Hallelujah! + </p> + <p> + The Goorkhas were pouring through the left gorge and over the heights at + the double to the invitation of their Regimental Quick-step. The black + rocks were crowned with dark green spiders as the bugles gave tongue + jubilantly:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In the morning! In the morning by the bright light! + When Gabriel blows his trumpet in the morning! +</pre> + <p> + The Goorkha rear companies tripped and blundered over loose stones. The + front files halted for a moment to take stock of the valley and to settle + stray boot-laces. Then a happy little sigh of contentment soughed down the + ranks, and it was as though the land smiled, for behold there below was + the enemy, and it was to meet them that the Goorkhas had doubled so + hastily. There was much enemy. There would be amusement. The little men + hitched their kukris well to hand, and gaped expectantly at their officers + as terriers grin ere the stone is cast for them to fetch. The Goorkhas' + ground sloped downward to the valley, and they enjoyed a fair view of the + proceedings. They sat upon the boulders to watch, for their officers were + not going to waste their wind in assisting to repulse a Ghazi rush more + than half a mile away. Let the white men look to their own front. + </p> + <p> + “Hi! yi!” said the Subadar-Major, who was sweating profusely. “Dam fools + yonder, stand close order! This is no time for close order, it is the time + for volleys. Ugh!” + </p> + <p> + Horrified, amused, and indignant, the Goorkhas beheld the retirement of + the Fore and Aft with a running chorus of oaths and commentaries. + </p> + <p> + “They run! The white men run! Colonel Sahib, may we also do a little + running?” murmured Runbir Thappa, the Senior Jemadar. + </p> + <p> + But the Colonel would have none of it. “Let the beggars be cut up a + little,” said he wrathfully. “Serves 'em right. They'll be prodded into + facing round in a minute.” He looked through his field-glasses, and caught + the glint of an officer's sword. + </p> + <p> + “Beating 'em with the flat—damned conscripts! How the Ghazis are + walking into them!” said he. + </p> + <p> + The Fore and Aft, heading back, bore with them their officers. The + narrowness of the pass forced the mob into solid formation, and the rear + ranks delivered some sort of a wavering volley. The Ghazis drew off, for + they did not know what reserve the gorge might hide. Moreover, it was + never wise to chase white men too far. They returned as wolves return to + cover, satisfied with the slaughter that they had done, and only stopping + to slash at the wounded on the ground. A quarter of a mile had the Fore + and Aft retreated, and now, jammed in the pass, was quivering with pain, + shaken and demoralised with fear, while the officers, maddened beyond + control, smote the men with the hilts and the flats of their swords. + </p> + <p> + “Get back! Get back, you cowards—you women! Right about face—column + of companies, form—you hounds!” shouted the Colonel, and the + subalterns swore aloud. But the Regiment wanted to go—to go anywhere + out of the range of those merciless knives. It swayed to and fro + irresolutely with shouts and outcries, while from the right the Goorkhas + dropped volley after volley of cripple-stopper Snider bullets at long + range into the mob of the Ghazis returning to their own troops. + </p> + <p> + The Fore and Aft Band, though protected from direct fire by the rocky + knoll under which it had sat down, fled at the first rush. Jakin and Lew + would have fled also, but their short legs left them fifty yards in the + rear, and by the time the Band had mixed with the Regiment, they were + painfully aware that they would have to close in alone and unsupported. + </p> + <p> + “Get back to that rock,” gasped Jakin. “They won't see us there.” + </p> + <p> + And they returned to the scattered instruments of the Band, their hearts + nearly bursting their ribs. + </p> + <p> + “Here's a nice show for us,” said Jakin, throwing himself full length on + the ground. “A bloomin' fine show for British Infantry! Oh, the devils! + They've gone and left us alone here! Wot'll we do?” + </p> + <p> + Lew took possession of a cast-off water-bottle, which naturally was full + of canteen rum, and drank till he coughed again. + </p> + <p> + “Drink,” said he shortly. “They'll come back in a minute or two—you + see.” + </p> + <p> + Jakin drank, but there was no sign of the Regiment's return. They could + hear a dull clamour from the head of the valley of retreat, and saw the + Ghazis slink back, quickening their pace as the Goorkhas fired at them. + </p> + <p> + “We're all that's left of the Band, an' we'll be cut up as sure as death,” + said Jakin. + </p> + <p> + “I'll die game, then,” said Lew thickly, fumbling with his tiny drummer's + sword. The drink was working on his brain as it was on Jakin's. + </p> + <p> + “'Old on! I know something better than fightin',” said Jakin, stung by the + splendour of a sudden thought due chiefly to rum. “Tip our bloomin' + cowards yonder the word to come back. The Paythan beggars are well away. + Come on, Lew! We won't get hurt. Take the fife an' give me the drum. The + Old Step for all your bloomin' guts are worth! There's a few of our men + coming back now. Stand up, ye drunken little defaulter. By your right—quick + march!” + </p> + <p> + He slipped the drum-sling over his shoulder, thrust the fife into Lew's + hand, and the two boys marched out of the cover of the rock into the open, + making a hideous hash of the first bars of the “British Grenadiers.” + </p> + <p> + As Lew had said, a few of the Fore and Aft were coming back sullenly and + shamefacedly under the stimulus of blows and abuse; their red coats shone + at the head of the valley, and behind them were wavering bayonets. But + between this shattered line and the enemy, who with Afghan suspicion + feared that the hasty retreat meant an ambush, and had not moved + therefore, lay half a mile of level ground dotted only by the wounded. + </p> + <p> + The tune settled into full swing and the boys kept shoulder to shoulder, + Jakin banging the drum as one possessed. The one fife made a thin and + pitiful squeaking, but the tune carried far, even to the Goorkhas. + </p> + <p> + “Come on, you dogs!” muttered Jakin to himself. “Are we to play forhever?” + Lew was staring straight in front of him and marching more stiffly than + ever he had done on parade. + </p> + <p> + And in bitter mockery of the distant mob, the old tune of the Old Line + shrilled and rattled:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Some talk of Alexander, + And some of Hercules; + Of Hector and Lysander, + And such great names as these! +</pre> + <p> + There was a far-off clapping of hands from the Goorkhas, and a roar from + the Highlanders in the distance, but never a shot was fired by British or + Afghan. The two little red dots moved forward in the open parallel to the + enemy's front. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + But of all the world's great heroes + There's none that can compare, + With a tow-row-row-row-row-row, + To the British Grenadier! +</pre> + <p> + The men of the Fore and Aft were gathering thick at the entrance into the + plain. The Brigadier on the heights far above was speechless with rage. + Still no movement from the enemy. The day stayed to watch the children. + </p> + <p> + Jakin halted and beat the long roll of the Assembly, while the fife + squealed despairingly. + </p> + <p> + “Right about face! Hold up, Lew, you're drunk,” said Jakin. They wheeled + and marched back:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 'hose heroes of antiquity + Ne'er saw a cannon-ball, + Nor knew the force o' powder, +</pre> + <p> + “Here they come!” said Jakin. “Go on, Lew”:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + To scare their foes withal! +</pre> + <p> + The Fore and Aft were pouring out of the valley. What officers had said to + men in that time of shame and humiliation will never be known; for neither + officers nor men speak of it now. + </p> + <p> + “They are coming anew!” shouted a priest among the Afghans. “Do not kill + the boys! Take them alive, and they shall be of our faith.” + </p> + <p> + But the first volley had been fired, and Lew dropped on his face. Jakin + stood for a minute, spun round and collapsed, as the Fore and Aft came + forward, the curses of their officers in their ears, and in their hearts + the shame of open shame. + </p> + <p> + Half the men had seen the drummers die, and they made no sign. They did + not even shout. They doubled out straight across the plain in open order, + and they did not fire. + </p> + <p> + “This,” said the Colonel of Goorkhas, softly, “is the real attack, as it + should have been delivered. Come on, my children.” + </p> + <p> + “Ulu-lu-lu-lu!” squealed the Goorkhas, and came down with a joyful + clicking of kukris—those vicious Goorkha knives. + </p> + <p> + On the right there was no rush. The Highlanders, cannily commending their + souls to God (for it matters as much to a dead man whether he has been + shot in a Border scuffle or at Waterloo), opened out and fired according + to their custom, that is to say without heat and without intervals, while + the screw-guns, having disposed of the impertinent mud fort + aforementioned, dropped shell after shell into the clusters round the + flickering green standards on the heights. + </p> + <p> + “Charrging is an unfortunate necessity,” murmured the Colour-Sergeant of + the right company of the Highlanders. “It makes the men sweer so, but I am + thinkin' that it will come to a charrge if these black devils stand much + longer. Stewarrt, man, you're firing into the eye of the sun, and he'll + not take any harm for Government ammuneetion. A foot lower and a great + deal slower! What are the English doing? They're very quiet, there in the + center. Running again?” + </p> + <p> + The English were not running. They were hacking and hewing and stabbing, + for though one white man is seldom physically a match for an Afghan in a + sheepskin or wadded coat, yet, through the pressure of many white men + behind, and a certain thirst for revenge in his heart, he becomes capable + of doing much with both ends of his rifle. The Fore and Aft held their + fire till one bullet could drive through five or six men, and the front of + the Afghan force gave on the volley. They then selected their men, and + slew them with deep gasps and short hacking coughs, and groanings of + leather belts against strained bodies, and realised for the first time + that an Afghan attacked is far less formidable than an Afghan attacking; + which fact old soldiers might have told them. + </p> + <p> + But they had no old soldiers in their ranks. + </p> + <p> + The Goorkhas' stall at the bazar was the noisiest, for the men were + engaged—to a nasty noise as of beef being cut on the block—with + the kukri, which they preferred to the bayonet; well knowing how the + Afghan hates the half-moon blade. + </p> + <p> + As the Afghans wavered, the green standards on the mountain moved down to + assist them in a last rally. This was unwise. The Lancers, chafing in the + right gorge, had thrice despatched their only subaltern as galloper to + report on the progress of affairs. On the third occasion he returned, with + a bullet-graze on his knee, swearing strange oaths in Hindustani, and + saying that all things were ready. So that squadron swung round the right + of the Highlanders with a wicked whistling of wind in the pennons of its + lances, and fell upon the remnant just when, according to all the rules of + war, it should have waited for the foe to show more signs of wavering. + </p> + <p> + But it was a dainty charge, deftly delivered, and it ended by the Cavalry + finding itself at the head of the pass by which the Afghans intended to + retreat; and down the track that the lances had made streamed two + companies of the Highlanders, which was never intended by the Brigadier. + The new development was successful. It detached the enemy from his base as + a sponge is torn from a rock, and left him ringed about with fire in that + pitiless plain. And as a sponge is chased round the bath-tub by the hand + of the bather, so were the Afghans chased till they broke into little + detachments much more difficult to dispose of than large masses. + </p> + <p> + “See!” quoth the Brigadier. “Everything has come as I arranged. We've cut + their base, and now we'll bucket 'em to pieces.” + </p> + <p> + A direct hammering was all that the Brigadier had dared to hope for, + considering the size of the force at his disposal; but men who stand or + fall by the errors of their opponents may be forgiven for turning Chance + into Design. The bucketing went forward merrily. The Afghan forces were + upon the run—the run of wearied wolves who snarl and bite over their + shoulders. The red lances dipped by twos and threes, and, with a shriek, + uprose the lance-butt, like a spar on a stormy sea, as the trooper + cantering forward cleared his point. The Lancers kept between their prey + and the steep hills, for all who could were trying to escape from the + valley of death. The Highlanders gave the fugitives two hundred yards' + law, and then brought them down, gasping and choking ere they could reach + the protection of the boulders above. The Goorkhas followed suit; but the + Fore and Aft were killing on their own account, for they had penned a mass + of men between their bayonets and a wall of rock, and the flash of the + rifles was lighting the wadded coats. + </p> + <p> + “We cannot hold them, Captain Sahib!” panted a Ressaidar of Lancers. “Let + us try the carbine. The lance is good, but it wastes time.” + </p> + <p> + They tried the carbine, and still the enemy melted away—fled up the + hills by hundreds when there were only twenty bullets to stop them. On the + heights the screw-guns ceased firing—they had run out of ammunition—and + the Brigadier groaned, for the musketry fire could not sufficiently smash + the retreat. Long before the last volleys were fired, the doolies were out + in force looking for the wounded. The battle was over, and, but for want + of fresh troops, the Afghans would have been wiped off the earth. As it + was, they counted their dead by hundreds, and nowhere were the dead + thicker than in the track of the Fore and Aft. + </p> + <p> + But the Regiment did not cheer with the Highlanders, nor did they dance + uncouth dances with the Goorkhas among the dead. They looked under their + brows at the Colonel as they leaned upon their rifles and panted. + </p> + <p> + “Get back to camp, you. Haven't you disgraced yourself enough for one day! + Go and look to the wounded. It's all you're fit for,” said the Colonel. + Yet for the past hour the Fore and Aft had been doing all that mortal + commander could expect. They had lost heavily because they did not know + how to set about their business with proper skill, but they had borne + themselves gallantly, and this was their reward. + </p> + <p> + A young and sprightly Colour-Sergeant, who had begun to imagine himself a + hero, offered his water-bottle to a Highlander whose tongue was black with + thirst. “I drink with no cowards,” answered the youngster huskily, and, + turning to a Goorkha, said, “Hya, Johnny! Drink water got it?” The Goorkha + grinned and passed his bottle. The Fore and Aft said no word. + </p> + <p> + They went back to camp when the field of strife had been a little mopped + up and made presentable, and the Brigadier, who saw himself a Knight in + three months, was the only soul who was complimentary to them. The Colonel + was heartbroken, and the officers were savage and sullen. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the Brigadier, “they are young troops, of course, and it was + not unnatural that they should retire in disorder for a bit.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my only Aunt Maria!” murmured a junior Staff Officer. “Retire in + disorder! It was a bally run!” + </p> + <p> + “But they came again, as we all know,” cooed the Brigadier, the Colonel's + ashy-white face before him, “and they behaved as well as could possibly be + expected. Behaved beautifully, indeed. I was watching them. It's not a + matter to take to heart, Colonel. As some German General said of his men, + they wanted to be shooted over a little, that was all.” To himself he said—“Now + they're blooded I can give 'em responsible work. It's as well that they + got what they did. 'Teach 'em more than half a dozen rifle flirtations, + that will—later—run alone and bite. Poor old Colonel, though.” + </p> + <p> + All that afternoon the heliograph winked and flickered on the hills, + striving to tell the good news to a mountain forty miles away And in the + evening there arrived, dusty, sweating, and sore, a misguided + Correspondent who had gone out to assist at a trumpery village-burning, + and who had read off the message from afar, cursing his luck the while. + </p> + <p> + “Let's have the details somehow—as full as ever you can, please. + It's the first time I've ever been left this campaign,” said the + Correspondent to the Brigadier; and the Brigadier, nothing loth, told him + how an Army of Communication had been crumpled up, destroyed, and all but + annihilated by the craft, strategy, wisdom, and foresight of the + Brigadier. + </p> + <p> + But some say, and among these be the Goorkhas who watched on the hillside, + that that battle was won by Jakin and Lew, whose little bodies were borne + up just in time to fit two gaps at the head of the big ditch-grave for the + dead under the heights of Jagai. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + JUDSON AND THE EMPIRE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Gloriana! The Don may attack us + Whenever his stomach be fain; + He must reach us before he can rack us... + And where are the galleons of Spain? + + Dobson. +</pre> + <p> + One of the many beauties of a democracy is its almost superhuman skill in + developing troubles with other countries and finding its honour abraded in + the process. A true democracy has a large contempt for all other lands + that are governed by Kings and Queens and Emperors, and knows little and + thinks less of their internal affairs. All it regards is its own dignity, + which is its King, Queen, and Knave. So, sooner or later, an international + difference ends in the common people, who have no dignity, shouting the + common abuse of the street, which also has no dignity, across the seas in + order to vindicate their own dignity. The consequences may or may not be + war, but the chances do not favour peace. + </p> + <p> + An advantage in living in a civilised land which is really governed lies + in the fact that all the Kings and Queens and Emperors of the continent + are closely related by blood or marriage—are, in fact, one large + family. A wise head of them knows that what appears to be a studied insult + may be no more than some man's indigestion or woman's indisposition to be + treated as such, and explained in quiet talk. Again, a popular + demonstration, headed by King and Court, may mean nothing more than that + so-and-so's people are out of hand for the minute. When a horse falls to + kicking in a hunt-crowd at a gate, the rider does not dismount, but puts + his open hand behind him, and the others draw aside. It is so with the + rulers of men. In the old days they cured their own and their people's bad + temper with fire and slaughter; but now that the fire is so long of range + and the slaughter so large, they do other things, and few among their + people guess how much they owe in mere life and money to what the slang of + the minute calls “puppets” and “luxuries.” + </p> + <p> + Once upon a time there was a little Power, the half-bankrupt wreck of a + once great empire, that lost its temper with England, the whipping-boy of + all the world, and behaved, as every one knows, most scandalously. But it + is not generally known that that Power fought a pitched battle with + England and won a glorious victory. The trouble began with the people. + Their own misfortunes had been many, and for private rage it is always + refreshing to find a vent in public swearing. Their national vanity had + been deeply injured, and they thought of their ancient glories and the + days when their fleets had first rounded the Cape of Storms, and their own + newspapers called upon Camoens and urged them to extravagances. It was the + gross, smooth, sleek, lying England that was checking their career of + colonial expansion. They assumed at once that their ruler was in league + with that country, and consequently they, his people, would forthwith + become a Republic and colonially expand themselves as a free people + should. This made plain, the people threw stones at the English Consuls + and spat at English ladies, and cut off drunken sailors of our fleet in + their ports and hammered them with oars, and made things very unpleasant + for tourists at their customs, and threatened awful deaths to the + consumptive invalids at Madeira, while the junior officers of the Army + drank fruit-extracts and entered into blood-curdling conspiracies against + their monarch, all with the object of being a Republic. Now the history of + all the South American Republics shows that it is not good that Southern + Europeans should be also Republicans. They glide too quickly into military + despotism; and the propping of men against walls and shooting them in + detachments can be arranged much more economically and with less effect on + the death-rate by a hide-bound monarchy. Still the performances of the + Power as represented by its people were extremely inconvenient. It was the + kicking horse in the crowd, and probably the rider explained that he could + not check it. The people enjoyed all the glory of war with none of the + risks, and the tourists who were stoned in their travels returned stolidly + to England and told the “Times” that the police arrangements of foreign + towns were defective. + </p> + <p> + This then was the state of affairs north of the Line. South it was more + strained, for there the Powers were at direct issue: England, unable to go + back because of the pressure of adventurous children behind her, and the + actions of far-away adventurers who would not come to heel, but offering + to buy out her rival; and the other Power, lacking men or money, stiff in + the conviction that three hundred years of slave-holding and intermingling + with the nearest natives gave an inalienable right to hold slaves and + issue half-castes to all eternity. They had built no roads. Their towns + were rotting under their hands; they had no trade worth the freight of a + crazy steamer, and their sovereignty ran almost one musket-shot inland + when things were peaceful. For these very reasons they raged all the more, + and the things that they said and wrote about the manners and customs of + the English would have driven a younger nation to the guns with a long red + bill for wounded honour. + </p> + <p> + It was then that Fate sent down in a twin-screw shallow-draft gunboat, + designed for the defence of rivers, of some two hundred and seventy tons' + displacement, Lieutenant Harrison Edward Judson, to be known for the + future as Bai-Jove-Judson. His type of craft looked exactly like a + flat-iron with a match stuck up in the middle; it drew five feet of water + or less, carried a four-inch gun forward, which was trained by the ship, + and, on account of its persistent rolling, was to live in three degrees + worse than a torpedo-boat. When Judson was appointed to take charge of the + thing on her little trip of six or seven thousand miles southward, his + first remark as he went to look her over in dock was, “Bai Jove, that + topmast wants staying forward!” The topmast was a stick about as thick as + a clothes-prop, but the flat-iron was Judson's first command, and he would + not have exchanged his position for second post on the “Anson” or the + “Howe”. He navigated her, under convoy, tenderly and lovingly to the Cape + (the story of the topmast came with him), and he was so absurdly in love + with his wallowing wash-tub when he reported himself, that the Admiral of + the station thought it would be a pity to kill a new man on her, and + allowed Judson to continue in his unenvied rule. + </p> + <p> + The Admiral visited her once in Simon's Bay, and she was bad, even for a + flat-iron gunboat strictly designed for river and harbour defence. She + sweated clammy drops of dew between decks in spite of a preparation of + powdered cork that was sprinkled over her inside paint. She rolled in the + long Cape swell like a buoy; her foc's'le was a dog-kennel; Judson's cabin + was practically under the water-line; not one of her dead-bights could + ever be opened; and her compasses, thanks to the influence of the + four-inch gun, were a curiosity even among Admiralty compasses. But + Bai-Jove-Judson was radiant and enthusiastic. He had even contrived to + fill Mr. Davies, the second-class engine-room artificer, who was his chief + engineer, with the glow of his passion. The Admiral, who remembered his + own first command, when pride forbade him to slacken off a single rope on + a dewy night, and he had racked his rigging to pieces in consequence, + looked at the flat-iron keenly. Her fenders were done all over with white + sennit which was truly white; her big gun was varnished with a better + composition than the Admiralty allowed; the spare sights were cased as + carefully as the chronometers; the chocks for spare spars, two of them, + were made of four-inch Burma teak carved with dragons' heads that was one + result of Bai-Jove-Judson's experiences with the Naval Brigade in the + Burmese war; the bow-anchor was varnished instead of being painted, and + there were charts more than the Admiralty scale supplied. The Admiral was + well pleased, for he loved a ship's husband—a man who had a little + money of his own and was willing to spend it on his command. Judson looked + at him hopefully. He was only a Junior Navigating Lieutenant under eight + years' standing. He might be kept in Simon's Bay for six months, and his + ship at sea was his delight. The dream of his heart was to enliven her + dismal official gray with a line of gold-leaf and perhaps a little + scroll-work at her blunt barge-like bows. + </p> + <p> + “There's nothing like a first command, is there?” said the Admiral, + reading his thoughts. “You seem to have rather queer compasses, though. + Better get them adjusted.” + </p> + <p> + “It's no use, sir,” said Judson. “The gun would throw out the Pole itself. + But—but I've got the hang of most of their weaknesses.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you be good enough to lay that gun over thirty degrees, please?” The + gun was put over. Round and round and round went the needle merrily, and + the Admiral whistled. + </p> + <p> + “You must have kept close to your convoy?” + </p> + <p> + “Saw her twice between here and Madeira, sir,” said Judson with a flush, + for he resented the slur on his seamanship. “It's—it's a little out + of hand, now, but she'll settle down after a while.” + </p> + <p> + The Admiral went over the side, according to the rules of the Service, but + the Staff-Captain must have told the other men of the squadron in Simon's + Bay, for they one and all made light of the flat-iron for many days. “What + can you shake out of her, Judson?” said the Lieutenant of the “Mongoose”, + a real white-painted, ram-bow gunboat with quick-firing guns, as he came + into the upper verandah of the little naval Club overlooking the dockyard + one hot afternoon. It is in that Club as the captains come and go that you + hear all the gossip of all the Seven Seas. + </p> + <p> + “Ten point four,” said Bai-Jove-Judson. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! That was on her trial trip. She's too deep by the head now. I told + you staying that topmast would throw her out of trim.” + </p> + <p> + “You leave my top-hamper alone,” said Judson, for the joke was beginning + to pall on him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my soul! Listen to him. Juddy's top-hamper! Keate, have you heard of + the flat-iron's top-hamper? You're to leave it alone. Commodore Judson's + feelings are hurt.” + </p> + <p> + Keate was the Torpedo Lieutenant of the big “Vortigern”, and he despised + small things. “His top-hamper,” said he slowly. “Oh, ah yes, of course. + Juddy, there's a shoal of mullet in the bay, and I think they're foul of + your screws. Better go down, or they'll carry away something.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't let things carry away as a rule. You see I've no Torpedo + Lieutenant on board, thank God!” + </p> + <p> + Keate within the past week had so managed to bungle the slinging in of a + small torpedo-boat on the “Vortigern”, that the boat had broken the + crutches in which she rested, and was herself being repaired in the + dockyard under the Club windows. + </p> + <p> + “One for you, Keate. Never mind, Juddy; you're hereby appointed + dockyard-tender for the next three years, and if you're very good and + there's no sea on, you shall take me round the harbour. Waitabeechee, + Commodore. What'll you take? Vanderhum for the 'Cook and the captain bold, + And the mate o' the Nancy brig, And the bo'sun tight' (Juddy, put that cue + down or I'll put you under arrest for insulting the lieutenant of the real + ship) 'And the midshipmite, And the crew of the captain's gig.” + </p> + <p> + By this time Judson had pinned him in a corner, and was prodding him with + the half-butt. The Admiral's Secretary entered, and saw the scuffle from + afar. + </p> + <p> + “Ouch! Juddy, I apologise. Take that—er topmast of yours away! + Here's the man with the bow-string. I wish I were a staff-captain instead + of a bloody lootenant. Sperril sleeps below every night. That's what makes + Sperril tumble home from the waist uppards. Sperril, I defy you to touch + me. I'm under orders for Zanzibar. Probably I shall annex it!” + </p> + <p> + “Judson, the Admiral wants to see you!” said the Staff-Captain, + disregarding the scoffer of the “Mongoose”. + </p> + <p> + “I told you you'd be a dockyard-tender yet, Juddy. A side of fresh beef + to-morrow and three dozen snapper on ice. On ice, you understand, Juddy?” + </p> + <p> + Bai-Jove-Judson and the Staff-Captain went out together. + </p> + <p> + “Now, what does the Admiral want with Judson?” said Keate from the bar. + </p> + <p> + “Don't know. Juddy's a damned good fellow, though. I wish to goodness he + was on the Mongoose with us.” + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant of the “Mongoose” dropped into a chair and read the mail + papers for an hour. Then he saw Bai-Jove-Judson in the street and shouted + to him. Judson's eyes were very bright, and his figure was held very + straight, and he moved joyously. Except for the Lieutenant of the + “Mongoose”, the Club was empty. + </p> + <p> + “Juddy, there will be a beautiful row,” said that young man when he had + heard the news delivered in an undertone. “You'll probably have to fight, + and yet I can't see what the Admiral's thinking of to—” + </p> + <p> + “My orders are not to fight under any circumstances,” said Judson. + </p> + <p> + “Go-look-see? That all? When do you go?” + </p> + <p> + “To-night if I can. I must go down and see about things. I say, I may want + a few men for the day.” + </p> + <p> + “Anything on the 'Mongoose' is at your service. There's my gig come in + now. I know that coast, dead, drunk, or asleep, and you'll need all the + knowledge you can get. If it had only been us two together! Come over with + me!” + </p> + <p> + For one whole hour Judson remained closeted in the stern cabin of the + “Mongoose”, listening, poring over chart upon chart and taking notes, and + for an hour the marine at the door heard nothing but things like these: + “Now you'll have to put in here if there's any sea on. That current is + ridiculously under-estimated, and it sets west at this season of the year, + remember. Their boats never come south of this, see? So it's no good + looking out for them.” And so on and so forth, while Judson lay at length + on the locker by the three-pounder, and smoked and absorbed it all. + </p> + <p> + Next morning there was no flat-iron in Simon's Bay, only a little smudge + of smoke off Cape Hangklip to show that Mr. Davies, the second-class + engine-room artificer, was giving her all she could carry. At the + Admiral's house, the ancient and retired bo'sun, who had seen many + Admirals come and go, brought out his paint and brushes and gave a new + coat of pure raw pea-green to the two big cannon-balls that stood one on + each side of the Admiral's entrance-gate. He felt dimly that great events + were stirring. + </p> + <p> + And the flat-iron, constructed, as has been before said, solely for the + defense of rivers, met the great roll off Cape Agulhas and was swept from + end to end and sat upon her twin-screws and leaped as gracefully as a cow + in a bog from one sea to another, till Mr. Davies began to fear for the + safety of his engines, and the Kroo boys that made the majority of the + crew were deathly sick. She ran along a very badly-lighted coast, past + bays that were no bays, where ugly flat-topped rocks lay almost level with + the water, and very many extraordinary things happened that have nothing + to do with the story, but they were all duly logged by Bai-Jove-Judson. + </p> + <p> + At last the coast changed and grew green and low and exceedingly muddy, + and there were broad rivers whose bars were little islands standing three + or four miles out at sea, and Bai-Jove-Judson hugged the shore more + closely than ever, remembering what the Lieutenant of the “Mongoose” had + told him. Then he found a river full of the smell of fever and mud, with + green stuff growing far into its waters, and a current that made the + flatiron gasp and grunt. + </p> + <p> + “We will turn up here,” said Bai-Jove-Judson, and they turned up + accordingly; Mr. Davies wondering what in the world it all meant, and the + Kroo boys grinning. Bai-Jove-Judson went forward to the bows and + meditated, staring through the muddy waters. After six hours of rooting + through this desolation at an average rate of five miles an hour, his eyes + were cheered by the sight of one white buoy in the coffee-hued mid-stream. + The flat-iron crept up to it cautiously, and a leadsman took soundings all + around it from a dinghy, while Bai-Jove-Judson smoked and thought, with + his head on one side. + </p> + <p> + “About seven feet, isn't there?” said he. “That must be the tail end of + the shoal. There's four fathom in the fairway. Knock that buoy down with + axes. I don't think it's picturesque somehow.” The Kroo men hacked the + wooden sides to pieces in three minutes, and the mooring-chain sank with + the lasst splinters of wood. Bai-Jove Judson laid the flat-iron carefully + over the site, while Mr. Davies watched, biting his nails nervously. + </p> + <p> + “Can you back her against this current?” said Bai-Jove-Judson. Mr. Davies + could, inch by inch, but only inch by inch, and Bai-Jove-Judson sat in the + bows and gazed at various things on the bank as they came into line or + opened out. The flatiron dropped down over the tail of the shoal, exactly + where the buoy had been, and backed once before Bai-Jove-Judson was + satisfied. Then they went up stream for half an hour, put into shoal water + by the bank and waited, with a slip-rope on the anchor. + </p> + <p> + “Seems to me,” said Mr. Davies deferentially, “like as if I heard some one + a-firing off at intervals, so to say.” + </p> + <p> + There was beyond doubt a dull mutter in the air. “Seems to me,” said + Bai-Jove-Judson, “as if I heard a screw. Stand by to slip her moorings.” + </p> + <p> + Another ten minutes passed and the beat of engines grew plainer. Then + round the bend of the river came a remarkably prettily built white-painted + gunboat with a blue and white flag bearing a red boss in the centre. + </p> + <p> + “Unshackle abaft the windlass! Stream both buoys! Easy, astern. Let go, + all!” The slip-rope flew out, the two buoys bobbed in the water to mark + where anchor and cable had been left, and the flat-iron waddled out into + midstream with the white ensign at her one mast-head. + </p> + <p> + “Give her all you can. That thing has the legs of us,” said Judson. “And + down we go!” + </p> + <p> + “It's war—bloody war. He's going to fire,” said Mr. Davies, looking + up through the engine-room hatch. + </p> + <p> + The white gunboat without a word of explanation fired three guns at the + flat-iron, cutting the trees on the banks into green chips. + Bai-Jove-Judson was at the wheel, and Mr. Davies and the current helped + the boat to an almost respectable degree of speed. + </p> + <p> + It was an exciting chase, but it did not last for more than five minutes. + The white gunboat fired again, and Mr. Davies in his engine-room gave a + wild shout. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter? Hit?” said Bai-Jove-Judson. + </p> + <p> + “No, I've just seized of your roos-de-gare. Beg y' pardon, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Right O! Just the half a fraction of a point more.” The wheel turned + under the steady hand, as Bai-Jove-Judson watched his marks on the bank + coming in line swiftly as troops anxious to aid. The flat-iron smelt the + shoal water under her, checked for an instant, and went on. “Now we're + over. Come along, you thieves, there!” + </p> + <p> + The white gunboat, too hurried even to fire, was storming in the wake of + the flat-iron, steering as she steered. This was unfortunate, because the + lighter craft was dead over the missing buoy. + </p> + <p> + “What you do here?” shouted a voice from the bows. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going on. Hold tight. Now you're arranged for!” + </p> + <p> + There was a crash and a clatter as the white gunboat's nose took the + shoal, and the brown mud boiled up in oozy circles under her forefoot. + Then the current caught her stem by the starboard side and drove her + broadside on to the shoal, slowly and gracefully. There she heeled at an + undignified angle, and her crew yelled aloud. + </p> + <p> + “Neat! Oh, damn neat!” quoth Mr. Davies, dancing on the engine-room + plates, while the Kroo stokers grinned. + </p> + <p> + The flat-iron turned up-stream again, and passed under the hove-up + starboard side of the white gunboat, to be received with howls and + imprecations in a strange tongue. The stranded boat, exposed even to her + lower strakes, was as defence-less as a turtle on its back, without the + advantage of the turtle's plating. And the one big blunt gun in the bows + of the flat-iron was unpleasantly near. + </p> + <p> + But the captain was valiant and swore mightily. Bai-Jove-Judson took no + sort of notice. His business was to go up the river. + </p> + <p> + “We will come in a flotilla of boats and ecrazer your vile tricks,” said + the captain with language that need not be published. + </p> + <p> + Then said Bai-Jove-Judson, who was a linguist: “You stay o where you are + o, or I'll leave a hole-o in your bottom o that will make you much os + perforatados.” + </p> + <p> + There was a great deal of mixed language in reply, but Bai-Jove-Judson was + out of hearing in a few minutes, and Mr. Davies, himself a man of few + words, confided to one of his subordinates that Lieutenant Judson was “a + most remarkable prompt officer in a way of putting it.” + </p> + <p> + For two hours the flat-iron pawed madly through the muddy water, and that + which had been at first a mutter became a distinct rumble. + </p> + <p> + “Was war declared?” said Mr. Davies, and Bai-Jove-Judson laughed. “Then, + damn his eyes, he might have spoilt my pretty little engines. There's war + up there, though.” + </p> + <p> + The next bend brought them full in sight of a small but lively village, + built round a whitewashed mud house of some pretensions. There were scores + and scores of saddle-coloured soldiery on duty, white uniforms running to + and fro and shouting round a man in a litter, and on a gentle slope that + ran inland for four or five miles something like a brisk battle was raging + round a rude stockade. A smell of unburied carcasses floated through the + air and vexed the sensitive nose of Mr. Davies, who spat over the side. + </p> + <p> + “I want to get this gun on that house,” said Bai-Jove-Judson, indicating + the superior dwelling over whose flat roof floated the blue and white + flag. The little twin screws kicked up the water exactly as a hen's legs + kick in the dust before she settles down to a bath. The little boat moved + un easily from left to right, backed, yawed again, went ahead, and at last + the gray blunt gun's nose was held as straight as a rifle-barrel on the + mark indicated. Then Mr. Davies allowed the whistle to speak as it is not + allowed to speak in Her Majesty's service on account of waste of steam. + The soldiery of the village gathered into knots and groups and bunches, + and the firing up the hill ceased, and every one except the crew of the + flatiron yelled aloud. Something like an English cheer came down wind. + </p> + <p> + “Our chaps in mischief for sure, probably,” said Mr. Davies. “They must + have declared war weeks ago, in a kind of way, seems to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Hold her steady, you son of a soldier!” shouted Bai-Jove-Judson, as the + muzzle fell off the white house. + </p> + <p> + Something rang as loudly as a ship's bell on the forward plates of the + flat-iron, something spluttered in the water, and another thing cut a + groove in the deck planking an inch in front of Bai-Jove-Judson's left + foot. The saddle-coloured soldiery were firing as the mood took them, and + the man in the litter waved a shining sword. The muzzle of the big gun + kicked down a fraction as it was laid on the mud wall at the bottom of the + house garden. Ten pounds of gunpowder shut up in a hundred pounds of metal + was its charge. Three or four yards of the mud wall jumped up a little, as + a man jumps when he is caught in the small of the back with a knee-cap, + and then fell forward, spreading fan-wise in the fall. The soldiery fired + no more that day, and Judson saw an old black woman climb to the flat roof + of the house. She fumbled for a time with the flag halliards, then finding + that they were jammed, took off her one garment, which happened to be an + Isabella-coloured petticoat, and waved it impatiently. The man in the + litter flourished a white handkerchief, and Bai-Jove-Judson grinned. “Now + we'll give 'em one up the hill. Round with her, Mr. Davies. Curse the man + who invented those floating gun platforms. Where can I pitch in a notice + without slaying one of those little devils?” + </p> + <p> + The side of the slope was speckled with men returning in a disorderly + fashion to the river front. Behind them marched a small but very compact + body of men who had filed out of the stockade. These last dragged + quick-firing guns with them. + </p> + <p> + “Bai Jove, it's a regular army. I wonder whose,” said Bai-Jove-Judson, and + he waited developments. The descending troops met and mixed with the + troops in the village, and, with the litter in the centre, crowded down to + the river, till the men with the quick-firing guns came up behind them. + Then they divided left and right and the detachment marched through. + </p> + <p> + “Heave these damned things over!” said the leader of the party, and one + after another ten little gatlings splashed into the muddy water. The + flatiron lay close to the bank. + </p> + <p> + “When you're quite done,” said Bai-Jove-Judson politely, “would you mind + telling me what's the matter? I'm in charge here.” + </p> + <p> + “We're the Pioneers of the General Development Company,” said the leader. + “These little bounders have been hammering us in lager for twelve hours, + and we're getting rid of their gatlings. Had to climb out and take them; + but they've snaffled the lock-actions. Glad to see you.” + </p> + <p> + “Any one hurt?” + </p> + <p> + “No one killed exactly, but we're very dry.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you hold your men?” + </p> + <p> + The man turned round and looked at his command with a grin. There were + seventy of them, all dusty and unkempt. + </p> + <p> + “We sha'n't sack this ash-bin, if that's what you mean. We're mostly + gentlemen here, though we don't look it.” + </p> + <p> + “All right. Send the head of this post, or fort, or village, or whatever + it is, aboard, and make what arrangements you can for your men.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll find some barrack accommodation somewhere. Hullo! You in the litter + there, go aboard the gunboat.” The command wheeled round, pushed through + the dislocated soldiery, and began to search through the village for spare + huts. + </p> + <p> + The little man in the litter came aboard smiling nervously. He was in the + fullest of full uniform, with many yards of gold lace and dangling chains. + Also he wore very large spurs; the nearest horse being not more than four + hundred miles away. “My children,” said he, facing the silent soldiery, + “lay aside your arms.” + </p> + <p> + Most of the men had dropped them already and were sitting down to smoke. + “Let nothing,” he added in his own tongue, “tempt you to kill these who + have sought your protection.” + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Bai-Jove-Judson, on whom the last remark was lost, “will you + have the goodness to explain what the deuce you mean by all this + nonsense?” + </p> + <p> + “It was of a necessitate,” said the little man. “The operations of war are + unconformible. I am the Governor and I operate Captain. Be'old my little + sword.” + </p> + <p> + “Confound your little sword, sir. I don't want it. You've fired on our + flag. You've been firing at our people here for a week, and I've been + fired at coming up the river.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! The 'Guadala'. She have misconstrued you for a slaver possibly. How + are the 'Guadala'?” + </p> + <p> + “Mistook a ship of Her Majesty's navy for a slaver! You mistake any craft + for a slaver! Bai Jove, sir, I've a good mind to hang you at the + yard-arm!” + </p> + <p> + There was nothing nearer that terrible spar than the walking-stick in the + rack of Judson's cabin. The Governor looked at the one mast and smiled a + deprecating smile. + </p> + <p> + “The position is embarrassment,” he said. “Captain, do you think those + illustrious traders burn my capital? My people will give them beer.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind the traders, I want an explanation.” + </p> + <p> + “Hum! There are popular uprising in Europe, Captain—in my country.” + His eye wandered aimlessly round the horizon. + </p> + <p> + “What has that to do with—” + </p> + <p> + “Captain, you are very young. There is still uproariment. But!”—here + he slapped his chest till his epaulets jingled—“I am loyalist to + pits of all my stomachs.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” said Judson, and his mouth quivered. + </p> + <p> + “An order arrive to me to establish a custom-houses here, and to collect + of the taximent from the traders when she are come here necessarily. That + was on account of political understandings with your country and mine. But + on that arrangement there was no money also. Not one damn little cowrie. I + desire damnably to extend all commercial things, and why? I am loyalist + and there is rebellion—yes, I tell you—Republics in my country + for to just begin. You do not believe? See some time how it exist. I + cannot make this custom-houses and pay the so high-paid officials. The + people too in my country they say the king she has no regardance into + Honour of her nation. He throw away everything—Gladstone her all, + you say, pay?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's what we say,” said Judson with a grin. + </p> + <p> + “Therefore they say, let us be Republics on hot cakes. But I—I am + loyalist to all my hands' ends. Captain, once I was attache at Mexico. I + say the Republics are no good. The peoples have her stomach high. They + desire—they desire—a course for the bills.” + </p> + <p> + “What on earth is that?” + </p> + <p> + “The cock-fight for pay at the gate. You give something, pay for see + bloody row. Do I make its comprehension?” + </p> + <p> + “A run for their money—is that what you mean? Gad, you're sporting, + Governor.” + </p> + <p> + “So I say. I am loyalist, too.” He smiled more easily. “Now how can + anything do herself for the customs-houses; but when the Company's mens + she arrives, then a cock-fight for pay at gate that is quite correct. My + army he says it will Republic and shoot me off upon walls if I have not + give her blood. An army, Captain, are terrible in her angries—especialment + when she are not paid. I know, too,” here he laid his hand on Judson's + shoulder, “I know too we are old friends. Yes! Badajos, Almeida, Fuentes + d'Onor—time ever since; and a little, little cock-fight for pay at + gate that is good for my king. More sit her tight on throne behind, you + see? Now,” he waved his hand round the decayed village, “I say to my + armies, Fight! Fight the Company's men when she come, but fight not so + very strong that you are any deads. It is all in the raporta that I send. + But you understand, Captain, we are good friends all the time. Ah! Ciudad + Rodrigo, you remember? No? Perhaps your father, then? So you see no one + are deads, and we fight a fight, and it is all in the raporta, to please + the people in our country, and my armies they do not put me against the + walls. You see?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but the 'Guadala'. She fired on us. Was that part of your game, my + joker?” + </p> + <p> + “The 'Guadala'. Ah! No, I think not. Her captain he is too big fool. But I + think she have gone down the coast. Those your gunboats poke her nose and + shove her oar in every place. How is 'Guadala'?” + </p> + <p> + “On a shoal. Stuck till I take her off.” “There are any deads?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + The Governor drew a breath of deep relief. “There are no deads here. So + you see none are deads anywhere, and nothing is done. Captain, you talk to + the Company's mens. I think they are not pleased.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally.” + </p> + <p> + “They have no sense. I thought to go backwards again they would. I leave + her stockade alone all night to let them out, but they stay and come + facewards to me, not backwards. They did not know we must conquer much in + all these battles, or the king, he is kicked off her throne. Now we have + won this battle—this great battle,” he waved his arms abroad, “and I + think you will say so that we have won, Captain. You are loyalist also. + You would not disturb to the peaceful Europe? Captain, I tell you this. + Your Queen she know too. She would not fight her cousins. It is a—a + hand-up thing.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Hand-up thing. Jobe you put. How you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Put-up job?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Put-up job. Who is hurt? We win. You lose. All righta?” + </p> + <p> + Bai-Jove-Judson had been exploding at intervals for the last five minutes. + Here he broke down completely and roared aloud. + </p> + <p> + “But look here, Governor,” he said at last, “I've got to think of other + things than your riots in Europe. You've fired on our flag.” + </p> + <p> + “Captain, if you are me, you would have done how? And also, and also,” he + drew himself up to his full height, “we are both brave men of bravest + countries. Our honour is the honour of our King,” here he uncovered, “and + of our Queen,” here he bowed low. “Now, Captain, you shall shell my palace + and I shall be your prisoner.” + </p> + <p> + “Skittles!” said Bai-Jove-Judson. “I can't shell that old hencoop.” + </p> + <p> + “Then come to dinner. Madeira, she are still to us, and I have of the best + she manufac.” + </p> + <p> + He skipped over the side beaming, and Bai-Jove-Judson went into the cabin + to laugh his laugh out. When he had recovered a little he sent Mr. Davies + to the head of the Pioneers, the dusty man with the gatlings, and the + troops who had abandoned the pursuit of arms watched the disgraceful + spectacle of two men reeling with laughter on the quarter-deck of a + gunboat. + </p> + <p> + “I'll put my men to build him a custom-house,” said the head of the + Pioneers, gasping. “We'll make him one decent road at least. That Governor + ought to be knighted. I'm glad now that we didn't fight 'em in the open, + or we'd have killed some of them. So he's won great battles, has he? Give + him the compliments of the victims, and tell him I'm coming to dinner. You + haven't such a thing as a dress-suit, have you? I haven't seen one for six + months.” + </p> + <p> + That evening there was a dinner in the village—a general and + enthusiastic dinner, whose head was in the Governor's house, and whose + tail threshed at large throughout all the streets. The Madeira was + everything that the Governor had said, and more, and it was tested against + two or three bottles of Bai-Jove-Judson's best Vanderhum, which is Cape + brandy ten years in the bottle, flavoured with orange-peel and spices. + Before the coffee was removed (by the lady who had made the flag of truce) + the Governor had sold the whole of his governorship and its appurtenances, + once to Bai-Jove-Judson for services rendered by Judson's grandfather in + the Peninsular War, and once to the head of the Pioneers, in consideration + of that gentleman's good friendship. After the negotiation he retreated + for a while into an inner apartment, and there evolved a true and complete + account of the defeat of the British arms, which he read with his cocked + hat over one eye to Judson and his companion. It was Judson who suggested + the sinking of the flat-iron with all hands, and the head of the Pioneers + who supplied the list of killed and wounded (not more than two hundred) in + his command. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” said the Governor from under his cocked hat, “the peace of + Europe are saved by this raporta. You shall all be Knights of the Golden + Hide. She shall go by the 'Guadala'.” + </p> + <p> + “Great Heavens!” said Bai-Jove Judson, flushed but composed, “that reminds + me I've left that boat stuck on her broadside down the river. I must go + down and soothe the commandante. He'll be blue with rage. Governor, let us + go a sail on the river to cool our heads. A picnic, you understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Ya—as, everything I understand. Ho! A picnica! You are all my + prisoner, but I am good gaoler. We shall picnic on the river, and we shall + take all the girls. Come on, my prisoners.” + </p> + <p> + “I do hope,” said the head of the Pioneers, staring from the verandah into + the roaring village, “that my chaps won't set the town alight by accident. + Hullo! Hullo! A guard of honour for His Excellency the most illustrious + Governor!” + </p> + <p> + Some thirty men answered the call, made a swaying line upon a more swaying + course, and bore the Governor most swayingly of all high in the arms as + they staggered down to the river. And the song that they sang bade them, + “Swing, swing together their body between their knees”; and they obeyed + the words of the song faithfully, except that they were anything but + “steady from stroke to bow.” His Excellency the Governor slept on his + uneasy litter, and did not wake when the chorus dropped him on the deck of + the flat-iron. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night and good-bye,” said the head of the Pioneers to Judson; “I'd + give you my card if I had it, but I'm so damned drunk I hardly know my own + club. Oh, yes! It's the Travellers. If ever we meet in Town, remember me. + I must stay here and look after my fellows. We're all right in the open, + now. I s'pose you'll return the Governor some time. This is a political + crisis. Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + The flat-iron went down stream through the dark. The Governor slept on + deck, and Judson took the wheel, but how he steered, and why he did not + run into each bank many times, that officer does not remember. Mr. Davies + did not note anything unusual, for there are two ways of taking too much, + and Judson was only ward-room, not foc's'le drunk. As the night grew + colder the Governor woke up, and expressed a desire for whiskey and soda. + When that came they were nearly abreast of the stranded “Guadala”, and His + Excellency saluted the flag that he could not see with loyal and patriotic + strains. + </p> + <p> + “They do not see. They do not hear,” he cried. “Ten thousand saints! They + sleep, and I have won battles! Ha!” + </p> + <p> + He started forward to the gun, which, very naturally, was loaded, pulled + the lanyard, and woke the dead night with the roar of the full charge + behind a common shell. That shell mercifully just missed the stern of the + “Guadala”, and burst on the bank. “Now you shall salute your Governor,” + said he, as he heard feet running in all directions within the iron skin. + “Why you demand so base a quarter? I am here with all my prisoners.” + </p> + <p> + In the hurly-burly and the general shriek for mercy his reassurances were + not heard. + </p> + <p> + “Captain,” said a grave voice from the ship, “we have surrendered. Is it + the custom of the English to fire on a helpless ship'?” + </p> + <p> + “Surrendered! Holy Virgin! I go to cut off all their heads. You shall be + ate by wild ants—flogged and drowned. Throw me a balcony. It is I, + the Governor! You shall never surrender. Judson of my soul, ascend her + insides, and send me a bed, for I am sleepy; but, oh, I will multiple time + kill that captain!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said the voice in the darkness, “I begin to comprehend.” And a + rope-ladder was thrown, up which the Governor scrambled, with Judson at + his heels. + </p> + <p> + “Now we will enjoy executions,” said the Governor on the deck. “All these + Republicans shall be shot. Little Judson, if I am not drunk, why are so + sloping the boards which do not support?” + </p> + <p> + The deck, as I have said, was at a very stiff cant. His Excellency sat + down, slid to leeward, and was asleep again. + </p> + <p> + The captain of the “Guadala” bit his moustache furiously, and muttered in + his own tongue: “This land is the father of great villains and the + stepfather of honest men. You see our material, Captain. It is so + everywhere with us. You have killed some of the rats, I hope?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a rat,” said Judson genially. + </p> + <p> + “That is a pity. If they were dead, our country might send us men; but our + country is dead too, and I am dishonoured on a mud-bank through your + English treachery.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it seems to me that firing on a little tub of our size without a + word of warning, when you know that the countries were at peace, is + treachery enough in a small way.” + </p> + <p> + “If one of my guns had touched you, you would have gone to the bottom, all + of you. I would have taken the risk with my Government. By that time it + would have been—” + </p> + <p> + “A Republic? So you really did mean fighting on your own hook? You're + rather a dangerous officer to cut loose in a navy like yours. Well, what + are you going to do now?” + </p> + <p> + “Stay here. Go away in boats. What does it matter? That drunken cat”—he + pointed to the shadow in which the Governor slept—“is here. I must + take him back to his hole.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good. I'll tow you off at daylight if you get steam ready.” + </p> + <p> + “Captain, I warn you that as soon as she floats again I will fight you.” + </p> + <p> + “Humbug! You'll have lunch with me, and then you'll take the Governor up + the river.” + </p> + <p> + The captain was silent for some time. Then he said: “Let us drink. What + must be, must be; and after all we have not forgotten the Peninsula. You + will admit, Captain, that it is bad to be run upon a shoal like a + mud-dredger?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we'll pull you off before you can say knife. Take care of His + Excellency. I shall try to get a little sleep now.” + </p> + <p> + They slept on both ships till the morning, and then the work of towing off + the “Guadala” began. With the help of her own engines, and the tugging and + puffing of the flat-iron, she slid off the mud-bank sideways into the deep + water, the flatiron immediately under her stern, and the big eye of the + four-inch gun almost peering through the window of the captain's cabin. + </p> + <p> + Remorse in the shape of a violent headache had overtaken the Governor. He + was uneasily conscious that he might, perhaps, have exceeded his powers; + and the captain of the “Guadala”, in spite of all his patriotic + sentiments, remembered distinctly that no war had been declared between + the two countries. He did not need the Governor's repeated reminders that + war, serious war, meant a Republic at home, possible supersession in his + command, and much shooting of living men against dead walls. + </p> + <p> + “We have satisfied our honour,” said the Governor in confidence. “Our army + is appeased, and the raporta that you take home will show that we were + loyal and brave. That other captain? Bah! he is a boy. He will call this a—a-. + Judson of my soul, how you say this is—all this affairs which have + transpirated between us?” + </p> + <p> + Judson was watching the last hawser slipping through the fairlead. “Call + it? Oh, I should call it rather a lark. Now your boat's all right, + Captain. When will you come to lunch?” + </p> + <p> + “I told you,” said the Governor, “it would be a larque to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother of the Saints! then what is his seriousness?” said the captain. + “We shall be happy to come when you please. Indeed, we have no other + choice,” he added bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” said Judson, and as he looked at the three or four + shot-blisters on the bows of his boat a brilliant idea took him. “It is we + who are at your mercy. See how His Excellency's guns knocked us about.” + </p> + <p> + “Senior Captain,” said the Governor pityingly, “that is very sad. You are + most injured, and your deck too, it is all shot over. We shall not be too + severe on a beat man, shall we, Captain?” + </p> + <p> + “You couldn't spare us a little paint, could you? I'd like to patch up a + little after the—action,” said Judson meditatively, fingering his + upper lip to hide a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Our store-room is at your disposition,” said the captain of the + “Guadala”, and his eye brightened; for a few lead splashes on gray paint + make a big show. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Davies, go aboard and see what they have to spare—to spare, + remember. Their spar-colour with a little working up should be just our + freeboard tint.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes. I'll spare them,” said Mr. Davies savagely. “I don't understand + this how-d'you-do and damn-your-eyes business coming one atop of the other + in a manner o' speaking. By all rights, they're our lawful prize.” + </p> + <p> + The Governor and the captain came to lunch in the absence of Mr. Davies. + Bai-Jove-Judson had not much to offer, but what he had was given as by a + beaten foeman to a generous conqueror. When they were a little warmed—the + Governor genial and the captain almost effusive—he explained, quite + casually, over the opening of a bottle that it would not be to his + interest to report the affair seriously, and it was in the highest degree + improbable that the Admiral would treat it in any grave fashion. + </p> + <p> + “When my decks are cut up” (there was one groove across four planks), “and + my plates buckled” (there were five lead patches on three plates), “and I + meet such a boat as the 'Guadala', and a mere accident saves me from being + blown out of the water—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. A mere accident, Captain. The shoal-buoy has been lost,” said the + captain of the 'Guadala'. + </p> + <p> + “Ah? I do not know this river. That was very sad. But as I was saying, + when an accident saves me from being sunk, what can I do but go away—if + that is possible? But I fear that I have no coal for the sea voyage. It is + very sad.” Judson had compromised on what he knew of the French tongue as + a working language. + </p> + <p> + “It is enough,” said the Governor, waving a generous hand. “Judson of my + soul, the coal is yours, and you shall be repaired—yes, repaired all + over of your battle's wounds. You shall go with all the honours of all the + wars. Your flag shall fly. Your drum shall beat. Your, ah!—jolly + boys shall spoke their bayonets. Is it not so, Captain?” + </p> + <p> + “As you say, Excellency. But the traders in the town. What of them?” + </p> + <p> + The Governor looked puzzled for an instant. He could not quite remember + what had happened to those jovial men who had cheered him over night. + Judson interrupted swiftly: “His Excellency has set them to forced works + on barracks and magazines, and, I think, a custom-house. When that is done + they will be released, I hope, Excellency.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they shall be released for your sake, little Judson of my heart.” + Then they drank the health of their respective sovereigns, while Mr. + Davies superintended the removal of the scarred plank and the shot-marks + on the deck and the bow-plates. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, this is too bad,” said Judson when they went on deck. “That idiot has + exceeded his instructions, but—but yow must let me pay for this!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Davies, his legs in the water as he sat on a staging slung over the + bows, was acutely conscious that he was being blamed in a foreign tongue. + He smiled uneasily, and went on with his work. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” said the Governor. + </p> + <p> + “That thick-head has thought that we needed some gold-leaf, and he has + borrowed that from your storeroom, but I must make it good.” Then in + English, “Stand up, Mr. Davies. What the—in—do you mean by + taking their gold-leaf? My—, are we a set of pirates to scrape the + guts out of a Levantine bumboat? Look contrite, you butt-ended, + broad-breeched, bottle-bellied, swivel-eyed son of a tinker, you! My Soul + alive, can't I maintain discipline in my own ship without a blacksmith of + a boiler-riveter putting me to shame before a yellow-nosed picaroon. Get + off the staging, Mr. Davies, and go to the engine-room. Put down that leaf + first, though, and leave the books where they are. I'll send for you in a + minute. Go aft!” + </p> + <p> + Now, only the upper half of Mr. Davies's round face was above the bulwarks + when this torrent of abuse descended upon him; and it rose inch by inch as + the shower continued: blank amazement, bewilderment, rage, and injured + pride chasing each other across it till he saw his superior officer's left + eyelid flutter on the cheek twice. Then he fled to the engine-room, and + wiping his brow with a handful of cotton-waste, sat down to overtake + circumstances. + </p> + <p> + “I am desolated,” said Judson to his companions, “but you see the material + that you give us. This leaves me more in your debt than before. The stuff + I can replace” (gold-leaf is never carried on floating gun-platforms), + “but for the insolence of that man how shall I apologise?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Davies's mind moved slowly, but after a while he transferred the + cotton-waste from his forehead to his mouth and bit on it to prevent + laughter. He began a second dance on the engine-room plates. “Neat! Oh, + damned neat!” he chuckled. “I've served with a good few, but there never + was one so neat as him. And I thought he was the new kind that don't know + how to put a few words, as it were!” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Davies, you can continue your work,” said Judson down the engine-room + hatch. “These officers have been good enough to speak in your favour. Make + a thorough job of it while you are about it. Slap on every man you have. + Where did you get hold of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Their storeroom is a regular theatre, sir. You couldn't miss it. There's + enough for two first-rates, and I've scoffed the best half of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Look sharp, then. We shall be coaling from her this afternoon. You'll + have to cover it all.” + </p> + <p> + “Neat! Oh, damned neat!” said Mr. Davies under his breath, as he gathered + his subordinates together, and set about accomplishing the long-deferred + wish of Judson's heart. + </p> + <p> + It was the “Martin Frobisher”, the flag-ship, a great war-boat when she + was new, in the days when men built for sail as well as for steam. She + could turn twelve knots under full sail, and it was under that that she + stood up the mouth of the river, a pyramid of silver beneath the moon. The + Admiral, fearing that he had given Judson a task beyond his strength, was + coming to look for him, and incidentally to do a little diplomatic work + along the coast. There was hardly wind enough to move the “Frobisher” a + couple of knots an hour, and the silence of the land closed about her as + she entered the fairway. Her yards sighed a little from time to time, and + the ripple under her bows answered the sigh. The full moon rose over the + steaming swamps, and the Admiral, gazing upon it, thought less of Judson + and more of the softer emotions. In answer to the very mood of his mind, + there floated across the silver levels of the water, mellowed by distance + to a most poignant sweetness, the throb of a mandolin, and the voice of + one who called upon a genteel Julia—upon Julia, and upon love. The + song ceased, and the sighing of the yards was all that broke the silence + of the big ship. + </p> + <p> + Again the mandolin began, and the commander on the lee side of the + quarter-deck grinned a grin that was reflected in the face of the + signal-midshipman. Not a word of the song was lost, and the voice of the + singer was the voice of Judson. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Last week down our alley came a toff, + Nice old geyser with a nasty cough, + Sees my missus, takes his topper off, + Quite in a gentlemanly way “— +</pre> + <p> + and so on to the end of the verse. The chorus was borne by several voices, + and the signal-midshipman's foot began to tap the deck furtively. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'What cheer!' all the neighbours cried. + ''Oo are you going to meet, Bill? + 'Ave you bought the street, Bill?' + Laugh?—I thought I should ha' died + When I knocked 'em in the old Kent Road.” + </pre> + <p> + It was the Admiral's gig, rowing softly, that came into the midst of that + merry little smoking-concert. It was Judson, the beribboned mandolin round + his neck, who received the Admiral as he came up the side of the + “Guadala”, and it may or may not have been the Admiral who stayed till two + in the morning and delighted the hearts of the Captain and the Governor. + He had come as an unbidden guest, and he departed as an honoured one, but + strictly unofficial throughout. Judson told his tale next day in the + Admiral's cabin as well as he could in the face of the Admiral's gales of + laughter, but the most amazing tale was that told by Mr. Davies to his + friends in the dockyard at Simon's Town from the point of view of a + second-class engine-room artificer, all unversed in diplomacy. + </p> + <p> + And if there be no truth either in my tale, which is Judson's tale, or the + tale of Mr. Davies, you will not find in harbour at Simon's Town to-day a + flat-bottomed twin-screw gunboat, designed solely for the defence of + rivers, about two hundred and seventy tons' displacement and five feet + draught, wearing in open defiance of the rules of the Service a gold line + on her gray paint. It follows also that you will be compelled to credit + that version of the fray which, signed by His Excellency the Governor and + despatched in the “Guadala”, satisfied the self-love of a great and + glorious people, and saved a monarchy from the ill-considered despotism + which is called a Republic. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A CONFERENCE OF THE POWERS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Life liveth but in life, and doth not roam + To other lands if all be well at home: + “Solid as ocean foam,” quoth ocean foam. +</pre> + <p> + The room was blue with the smoke of three pipes and a cigar. The + leave-season had opened in India, and the first-fruits on this side of the + water were “Tick” Boileau, of the 45th Bengal Cavalry, who called on me, + after three years' absence, to discuss old things which had happened. + Fate, who always does her work handsomely, sent up the same staircase + within the same hour The Infant, fresh from Upper Burma, and he and + Boileau looking out of my window saw walking in the street one Nevin, late + in a Goorkha regiment which had been through the Black Mountain + Expedition. They yelled to him to come up, and the whole Street was aware + that they desired him to come up, and he came up, and there followed + Pandemonium in my room because we had foregathered from the ends of the + earth, and three of us were on a holiday, and none of us were twenty-five, + and all the delights of all London lay waiting our pleasure. + </p> + <p> + Boileau took the only other chair, The Infant, by right of his bulk, the + sofa; and Nevin, being a little man, sat cross-legged on the top of the + revolving bookcase, and we all said, “Who'd ha' thought it!” and “What are + you doing here?” till speculation was exhausted and the talk went over to + inevitable “shop.” Boileau was full of a great scheme for winning a + military attache-ship at St. Petersburg; Nevin had hopes of the Staff + College, and The Infant had been moving heaven and earth and the Horse + Guards for a commission in the Egyptian army. + </p> + <p> + “What's the use o' that?” said Nevin, twirling round on the bookcase. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, heaps! 'Course if you get stuck with a Fellaheen regiment, you're + sold; but if you are appointed to a Soudanese lot, you're in clover. They + are first-class fighting-men—and just think of the eligible central + position of Egypt in the next row!” + </p> + <p> + This was putting the match to a magazine. We all began to explain the + Central Asian question off-hand, flinging army corps from the Helmund to + Kashmir with more than Russian recklessness. Each of the boys made for + himself a war to his own liking, and when we had settled all the details + of Armageddon, killed all our senior officers, handled a division apiece, + and nearly torn the atlas in two in attempts to explain our theories, + Boileau needs must lift up his voice above the clamour, and cry, “Anyhow + it'll be the hell of a row!” in tones that carried conviction far down the + staircase. + </p> + <p> + Entered, unperceived in the smoke, William the Silent. “Gen'elman to see + you, sir,” said he, and disappeared, leaving in his stead none other than + Mr. Eustace Cleever. William would have introduced the Dragon of Wantley + with equal disregard of present company. + </p> + <p> + “I—I beg your pardon. I didn't know that there was anybody—with + you.—” + </p> + <p> + But it was not seemly to allow Mr. Cleever to depart; he was a great man. + The boys remained where they were, for any movement would have choked up + the little room. Only when they saw his gray hairs they stood on their + feet, and when The Infant caught the name, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Are you—did you write that book called 'As it was in the + Beginning'?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cleever admitted that he had written the book. + </p> + <p> + “Then—then I don't know how to thank you, sir,” said The Infant, + flushing pink. “I was brought up in the country you wrote about—all + my people live there; and I read the book in camp on the Hlinedatalone, + and I knew every stick and stone, and the dialect too; and, by Jove! it + was just like being at home and hearing the country people talk. Nevin, + you know 'As it was in the Beginning'? So does Ti—Boileau.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cleever has tasted as much praise, public and private, as one man may + safely swallow; but it seemed to me that the outspoken admiration in The + Infant's eyes and the little stir in the little company came home to him + very nearly indeed. + </p> + <p> + “Won't you take the sofa?” said The Infant. “I'll sit on Boileau's chair, + and—” here he looked at me to spur me to my duties as a host; but I + was watching the novelist's face. Cleever had not the least intention of + going away, but settled himself on the sofa. + </p> + <p> + Following the first great law of the Army, which says “all property is + common except money, and you've only got to ask the next man for that,” + The Infant offered tobacco and drink. It was the least he could do; but + not the most lavish praise in the world held half as much appreciation and + reverence as The Infant's simple “Say when, sir,” above the long glass. + </p> + <p> + Cleever said “when,” and more thereto, for he was a golden talker, and he + sat in the midst of hero-worship devoid of all taint of self-interest. The + boys asked him of the birth of his book, and whether it was hard to write, + and how his notions came to him; and he answered with the same absolute + simplicity as he was questioned. His big eyes twinkled, he dug his long + thin hands into his gray beard and tugged it as he grew animated. He + dropped little by little from the peculiar pinching of the broader vowels—the + indefinable “euh,” that runs through the speech of the pundit caste—and + the elaborate choice of words, to freely-mouthed “ows” and “ois,” and, for + him at least, unfettered colloquialisms. He could not altogether + understand the boys, who hung upon his words so reverently. The line of + the chin-strap, that still showed white and untanned on cheekbone and jaw, + the steadfast young eyes puckered at the corners of the lids with much + staring through red-hot sunshine, the slow, untroubled breathing, and the + curious, crisp, curt speech seemed to puzzle him equally. He could create + men and women, and send them to the uttermost ends of the earth, to help, + delight, and comfort; he knew every mood of the fields, and could + interpret them to the cities, and he knew the hearts of many in city and + country, but he had hardly, in forty years, come into contact with the + thing which is called a Subaltern of the Line. He told the boys this in + his own way. + </p> + <p> + “Well, how should you?” said The Infant. “You—you're quite + different, y' see, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The Infant expressed his ideas in his tone rather than his words, but + Cleever understood the compliment. + </p> + <p> + “We're only Subs,” said Nevin, “and we aren't exactly the sort of men + you'd meet much in your life, I s'pose.” + </p> + <p> + “That's true,” said Cleever. “I live chiefly among men who write, and + paint, and sculp, and so forth. We have our own talk and our own + interests, and the outer world doesn't trouble us much.” + </p> + <p> + “That must be awfully jolly,” said Boileau, at a venture. “We have our own + shop, too, but 'tisn't half as interesting as yours, of course. You know + all the men who've ever done anything; and we only knock about from place + to place, and we do nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “The Army's a very lazy profession if you choose to make it so,” said + Nevin. “When there's nothing going on, there is nothing going on, and you + lie up.” + </p> + <p> + “Or try to get a billet somewhere, to be ready for the next show,” said + The Infant with a chuckle. + </p> + <p> + “To me,” said Cleever softly, “the whole idea of warfare seems so foreign + and unnatural, so essentially vulgar, if I may say so, that I can hardly + appreciate your sensations. Of course, though, any change from idling in + garrison towns must be a godsend to you.” + </p> + <p> + Like many home-staying Englishmen, Cleever believed that the newspaper + phrase he quoted covered the whole duty of the Army whose toils enabled + him to enjoy his many-sided life in peace. The remark was not a happy one, + for Boileau had just come off the Frontier, The Infant had been on the + warpath for nearly eighteen months, and the little red man Nevin two + months before had been sleeping under the stars at the peril of his life. + But none of them tried to explain, till I ventured to point out that they + had all seen service and were not used to idling. Cleever took in the idea + slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Seen service?” said he. Then, as a child might ask, “Tell me. Tell me + everything about everything.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you mean?” said The Infant, delighted at being directly appealed + to by the great man. + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens! How am I to make you understand, if you can't see. In the + first place, what is your age?” + </p> + <p> + “Twenty-three next July,” said The Infant promptly. + </p> + <p> + Cleever questioned the others with his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I'm twenty-four,” said Nevin. + </p> + <p> + “And I'm twenty-two,” said Boileau. + </p> + <p> + “And you've all seen service?” + </p> + <p> + “We've all knocked about a little bit, sir, but The Infant's the war-worn + veteran. He's had two years' work in Upper Burma,” said Nevin. + </p> + <p> + “When you say work, what do you mean, you extraordinary creatures?” + </p> + <p> + “Explain it, Infant,” said Nevin. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, keeping things in order generally, and running about after little + dakus—that's dacoits—and so on. There's nothing to explain.” + </p> + <p> + “Make that young Leviathan speak,” said Cleever impatiently, above his + glass. + </p> + <p> + “How can he speak?” said I. “He's done the work. The two don't go + together. But, Infant, you're ordered to bukb.” + </p> + <p> + “What about? I'll try.” + </p> + <p> + “Bukb about a daur. You've been on heaps of 'em,” said Nevin. + </p> + <p> + “What in the world does that mean? Has the Army a language of its own?” + </p> + <p> + The Infant turned very red. He was afraid he was being laughed at, and he + detested talking before outsiders; but it was the author of “As it was in + the Beginning” who waited. + </p> + <p> + “It's all so new to me,” pleaded Cleever; “and—and you said you + liked my book.” + </p> + <p> + This was a direct appeal that The Infant could understand, and he began + rather flurriedly, with much slang bred of nervousness— + </p> + <p> + “Pull me up, sir, if I say anything you don't follow. About six months + before I took my leave out of Burma, I was on the Hlinedatalone, up near + the Shan States, with sixty Tommies—private soldiers, that is—and + another subaltern, a year senior to me. The Burmese business was a + subaltern's war, and our forces were split up into little detachments, all + running about the country and trying to keep the dacoits quiet. The + dacoits were having a first-class time, y' know—filling women up + with kerosene and setting 'em alight, and burning villages, and crucifying + people.” + </p> + <p> + The wonder in Eustace Cleever's eyes deepened. He could not quite realise + that the cross still existed in any form. + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever seen a crucifixion?” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Of course not. 'Shouldn't have allowed it if I had; but I've seen the + corpses. The dacoits had a trick of sending a crucified corpse down the + river on a raft, just to show they were keeping their tail up and enjoying + themselves. Well, that was the kind of people I had to deal with.” + </p> + <p> + “Alone?” said Cleever. Solitude of the soul he could understand—none + better—but he had never in the body moved ten miles from his + fellows. + </p> + <p> + “I had my men, but the rest of it was pretty much alone. The nearest post + that could give me orders was fifteen miles away, and we used to + heliograph to them, and they used to give us orders same way—too + many orders.” + </p> + <p> + “Who was your C. O.?” said Boileau. + </p> + <p> + “Bounderby—Major. Pukka Bounderby; more Bounder than pukka. He went + out up Bhamo way. Shot, or cut down, last year,” said The Infant. + </p> + <p> + “What are these interludes in a strange tongue?” said Cleever to me. + </p> + <p> + “Professional information—like the Mississippi pilots' talk,” said + I. “He did not approve of his major, who died a violent death. Go on, + Infant.” + </p> + <p> + “Far too many orders. You couldn't take the Tommies out for a two days' + daur—that's expedition—without being blown up for not asking + leave. And the whole country was humming with dacoits. I used to send out + spies, and act on their information. As soon as a man came in and told me + of a gang in hiding, I'd take thirty men with some grub, and go out and + look for them, while the other subaltern lay doggo in camp.” + </p> + <p> + “Lay! Pardon me, but how did he lie?” said Cleever. + </p> + <p> + “Lay doggo—lay quiet, with the other thirty men. When I came back, + he'd take out his half of the men, and have a good time of his own.” + </p> + <p> + “Who was he?” said Boileau. + </p> + <p> + “Carter-Deecey, of the Aurungabadis. Good chap, but too zubberdusty, and + went bokhar four days out of seven. He's gone out too. Don't interrupt a + man.” + </p> + <p> + Cleever looked helplessly at me. + </p> + <p> + “The other subaltern,” I translated swiftly, “came from a native regiment, + and was overbearing in his demeanour. He suffered much from the fever of + the country, and is now dead. Go on, Infant.” + </p> + <p> + “After a bit, we got into trouble for using the men on frivolous + occasions, and so I used to put my signaller under arrest to prevent him + reading the helio-orders. Then I'd go out and leave a message to be sent + an hour after I got clear of the camp, something like this: 'Received + important information; start in an hour, unless countermanded.' If I was + ordered back, it didn't much matter. I swore the C. O.'s watch was wrong, + or something, when I came back. The Tommies enjoyed the fun, and—Oh, + yes, there was one Tommy who was the bard of the detachment. He used to + make up verses on everything that happened.” + </p> + <p> + “What sort of verses?” said Cleever. + </p> + <p> + “Lovely verses; and the Tommies used to sing 'em. There was one song with + a chorus, and it said something like this.” The Infant dropped into the + true barrack-room twang: + </p> + <p> + “Theebaw, the Burma king, did a very foolish thing, When 'e mustered + 'ostile forces in ar-rai, 'E little thought that we, from far across the + sea, Would send our armies up to Mandalai!” + </p> + <p> + “O gorgeous!” said Cleever. “And how magnificently direct! The notion of a + regimental bard is new to me, but of course it must be so.” + </p> + <p> + “He was awfly popular with the men,” said The Infant. “He had them all + down in rhyme as soon as ever they had done anything. He was a great bard. + He was always ready with an elegy when we picked up a Boh—that's a + leader of dacoits.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you pick him up?” said Cleever. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! shot him if he wouldn't surrender.” + </p> + <p> + “You! Have you shot a man?” + </p> + <p> + There was a subdued chuckle from all three boys, and it dawned on the + questioner that one experience in life which was denied to himself, and he + weighed the souls of men in a balance, had been shared by three very young + gentlemen of engaging appearance. He turned round on Nevin, who had + climbed to the top of the bookcase and was sitting cross-legged as before. + </p> + <p> + “And have you, too?” + </p> + <p> + “Think so,” said Nevin, sweetly. “In the Black Mountain. He was rolling + cliffs on to my half-company, and spoiling our formation. I took a rifle + from a man, and brought him down at the second shot.” + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens! And how did you feel afterwards?” + </p> + <p> + “Thirsty. I wanted a smoke, too.” + </p> + <p> + Cleever looked at Boileau—the youngest. Surely his hands were + guiltless of blood. + </p> + <p> + Boileau shook his head and laughed. “Go on, Infant,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “And you too?” said Cleever. + </p> + <p> + “Fancy so. It was a case of cut, cut or be cut, with me; so I cut—one. + I couldn't do any more, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Cleever looked as though he would like to ask many questions, but The + Infant swept on in the full tide of his tale. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we were called insubordinate young whelps at last, and strictly + forbidden to take the Tommies out any more without orders. I wasn't sorry, + because Tommy is such an exacting sort of creature. He wants to live as + though he were in barracks all the time. I was grubbing on fowls and + boiled corn, but the Tommies wanted their pound of fresh meat, and their + half ounce of this, and their two ounces of t'other thing, and they used + to come to me and badger me for plug tobacco when we were four days in + jungle. I said: 'I can get you Burma tobacco, but I don't keep a canteen + up my sleeve.' They couldn't see it. They wanted all the luxuries of the + season, confound 'em!” + </p> + <p> + “You were alone when you were dealing with these men?” said Cleever, + watching The Infant's face under the palm of his hand. He was receiving + new ideas, and they seemed to trouble him. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, unless you count the mosquitoes. They were nearly as big as + the men. After I had to lie doggo I began to look for something to do, and + I was great pals with a man called Hicksey in the Police, the best man + that ever stepped on earth; a first-class man.” + </p> + <p> + Cleever nodded applause. He knew how to appreciate enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + “Hicksey and I were as thick as thieves. He had some Burma mounted police—rummy + chaps, armed with sword and Snider carbine. They rode punchy Burma ponies, + with string stirrups, red cloth saddles, and red bell-rope headstalls. + Hicksey used to lend me six or eight of them when I asked him—nippy + little devils, keen as mustard. But they told their wives too much, and + all my plans got known, till I learned to give false marching orders + overnight, and take the men to quite a different village in the morning. + Then we used to catch the simple daku before breakfast, and made him very + sick. It's a ghastly country on the Hlinedatalone; all bamboo jungle, with + paths about four feet wide winding through it. The daku knew all the + paths, and potted at us as we came round a corner; but the mounted police + knew the paths as well as the daku, and we used to go stalking 'em in and + out. Once we flushed 'em, the men on the ponies had the advantage of the + men on foot. We held all the country absolutely quiet for ten miles round, + in about a month. Then we took Boh Na-ghee, Hicksey and I and the civil + officer. That was a lark!” + </p> + <p> + “I think I am beginning to understand a little,” said Cleever. “It was a + pleasure to you to administer and fight?” + </p> + <p> + “Rather! There's nothing nicer than a satisfactory little expedition, when + you find your plans fit together, and your information's teek—correct, + you know, and the whole sub-chiz—I mean, when everything works out + like formulae on a blackboard. Hicksey had all the information about the + Boh. He had been burning villages and murdering people right and left, and + cutting up Government convoys, and all that. He was lying doggo in a + village about fifteen miles off, waiting to get a fresh gang together. So + we arranged to take thirty mounted police, and turn him out before he + could plunder into our newly-settled villages. At the last minute, the + civil officer in our part of the world thought he'd assist at the + performance.” + </p> + <p> + “Who was he?” said Nevin. + </p> + <p> + “His name was Dennis,” said The Infant slowly. “And we'll let it stay so. + He's a better man now than he was then.” + </p> + <p> + “But how old was the civil power?” said Cleever. “The situation is + developing itself.” + </p> + <p> + “He was about six-and-twenty, and he was awf'ly clever. He knew a lot of + things, but I don't think he was quite steady enough for dacoit-hunting. + We started overnight for Boh Na-ghee's village, and we got there just + before morning, without raising an alarm. Dennis had turned out armed to + his teeth—two revolvers, a carbine, and all sorts of things. I was + talking to Hicksey about posting the men, and Dennis edged his pony in + between us, and said, 'What shall I do? What shall I do? Tell me what to + do, you fellows.' We didn't take much notice; but his pony tried to bite + me in the leg, and I said, 'Pull out a bit, old man, till we've settled + the attack.' He kept edging in, and fiddling with his reins and his + revolvers, and saying, 'Dear me! Dear me! Oh, dear me! What do you think + I'd better do?' The man was in a deadly funk, and his teeth were + chattering.” + </p> + <p> + “I sympathise with the civil power,” said Cleever. “Continue, young + Clive.” + </p> + <p> + “The fun of it was, that he was supposed to be our superior officer. + Hicksey took a good look at him, and told him to attach himself to my + party. Beastly mean of Hicksey, that. The chap kept on edging in and + bothering, instead of asking for some men and taking up his own position, + till I got angry, and the carbines began popping on the other side of the + village. Then I said, 'For God's sake be quiet, and sit down where you + are! If you see anybody come out of the village, shoot at him.' I knew he + couldn't hit a hayrick at a yard. Then I took my men over the garden wall—over + the palisades, y' know—somehow or other, and the fun began. Hicksey + had found the Boh in bed under a mosquito-curtain, and he had taken a + flying jump on to him.” + </p> + <p> + “A flying jump!” said Cleever. “Is that also war?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said The Infant, now thoroughly warmed. “Don't you know how you + take a flying jump on to a fellow's head at school, when he snores in the + dormitory? The Boh was sleeping in a bedful of swords and pistols, and + Hicksey came down like Zazel through the netting, and the net got mixed up + with the pistols and the Boh and Hicksey, and they all rolled on the floor + together. I laughed till I couldn't stand, and Hicksey was cursing me for + not helping him; so I left him to fight it out and went into the village. + Our men were slashing about and firing, and so were the dacoits, and in + the thick of the mess some ass set fire to a house, and we all had to + clear out. I froze on to the nearest daku and ran to the palisade, shoving + him in front of me. He wriggled loose and bounded over the other side. I + came after him; but when I had one leg one side and one leg the other of + the palisade, I saw that the daku had fallen flat on Dennis's head. That + man had never moved from where I left him. They rolled on the ground + together, and Dennis's carbine went off and nearly shot me. The daku + picked himself up and ran, and Dennis buzzed his carbine after him, and it + caught him on the back of his head and knocked him silly. You never saw + anything so funny in your life. I doubled up on the top of the palisade + and hung there, yelling with laughter. But Dennis began to weep like + anything. 'Oh, I've killed a man,' he said. 'I've killed a man, and I + shall never know another peaceful hour in my life. Is he dead? Oh, is he + dead? Good Lord, I've killed a man!' I came down and said, 'Don't be a + fool;' but he kept on shouting, 'Is he dead?' till I could have kicked + him. The daku was only knocked out of time with the carbine. He came to + after a bit, and I said, 'Are you hurt much?' He groaned and said, 'No.' + His chest was all cut with scrambling over the palisade. 'The white man's + gun didn't do that,' he said; 'I did that, and I knocked the white man + over.' Just like a Burman, wasn't it? But Dennis wouldn't be happy at any + price. He said: 'Tie up his wounds. He'll bleed to death. Oh, he'll bleed + to death!' 'Tie 'em up yourself,' I said, 'if you're so anxious.' 'I can't + touch him,' said Dennis, 'but here's my shirt.' He took off his shirt, and + fixed the braces again over his bare shoulders. I ripped the shirt up, and + bandaged the dacoit quite professionally. He was grinning at Dennis all + the time; and Dennis's haversack was lying on the ground, bursting full of + sandwiches. Greedy hog! I took some, and offered some to Dennis. 'How can + I eat?' he said. 'How can you ask me to eat? His very blood is on your + hands now, and you're eating my sandwiches!' 'All right,' I said; 'I'll + give 'em to the daku.' So I did, and the little chap was quite pleased, + and wolfed 'em down like one o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + Cleever brought his hand down on the table with a thump that made the + empty glasses dance. “That's Art!” he said. “Flat, flagrant mechanism! + Don't tell me that happened on the spot!” + </p> + <p> + The pupils of The Infant's eyes contracted to two pin-points. “I beg your + pardon,” he said slowly and stiffly, “but I am telling this thing as it + happened.” + </p> + <p> + Cleever looked at him a moment. “My fault entirely,” said he; “I should + have known. Please go on.” + </p> + <p> + “Hicksey came out of what was left of the village with his prisoners and + captives, all neatly tied up. Boh Na-ghee was first, and one of the + villagers, as soon as he found the old ruffian helpless, began kicking him + quietly. The Boh stood it as long as he could, and then groaned, and we + saw what was going on. Hicksey tied the villager up and gave him a half a + dozen, good, with a bamboo, to remind him to leave a prisoner alone. You + should have seen the old Boh grin. Oh! but Hicksey was in a furious rage + with everybody. He'd got a wipe over the elbow that had tickled up his + funny-bone, and he was rabid with me for not having helped him with the + Boh and the mosquito-net. I had to explain that I couldn't do anything. If + you'd seen 'em both tangled up together on the floor in one kicking + cocoon, you'd have laughed for a week. Hicksey swore that the only decent + man of his acquaintance was the Boh, and all the way to camp Hicksey was + talking to the Boh, and the Boh was complaining about the soreness of his + bones. When we got back, and had had a bath, the Boh wanted to know when + he was going to be hanged. Hicksey said he couldn't oblige him on the + spot, but had to send him to Rangoon. The Boh went down on his knees, and + reeled off a catalogue of his crimes—he ought to have been hanged + seventeen times over, by his own confession—and implored Hicksey to + settle the business out of hand. 'If I'm sent to Rangoon,' said he, + 'they'll keep me in jail all my life, and that is a death every time the + sun gets up or the wind blows.' But we had to send him to Rangoon, and, of + course, he was let off down there, and given penal servitude for life. + When I came to Rangoon I went over the jail—I had helped to fill it, + y' know—and the old Boh was there, and he spotted me at once. He + begged for some opium first, and I tried to get him some, but that was + against the rules. Then he asked me to have his Sentence changed to death, + because he was afraid of being sent to the Andamans. I couldn't do that + either, but I tried to cheer him, and told him how things were going + up-country, and the last thing he said was—'Give my compliments to + the fat white man who jumped on me. If I'd been awake I'd have killed + him.' I wrote that to Hicksey next mail, and—and that's all. I'm + 'fraid I've been gassing awf'ly, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Cleever said nothing for a long time. The Infant looked uncomfortable. He + feared that, misled by enthusiasm, he had filled up the novelist's time + with unprofitable recital of trivial anecdotes. + </p> + <p> + Then said Cleever, “I can't understand. Why should you have seen and done + all these things before you have cut your wisdom-teeth?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't know,” said The Infant apologetically. “I haven't seen much—only + Burmese jungle.” + </p> + <p> + “And dead men, and war, and power, and responsibility,” said Cleever, + under his breath. “You won't have any sensations left at thirty, if you go + on as you have done. But I want to hear more tales—more tales!” He + seemed to forget that even subalterns might have engagements of their own. + </p> + <p> + “We're thinking of dining out somewhere—the lot of us—and + going on to the Empire afterwards,” said Nevin, with hesitation. He did + not like to ask Cleever to come too. The invitation might be regarded as + perilously near to “cheek.” And Cleever, anxious not to wag a gray beard + unbidden among boys at large, said nothing on his side. + </p> + <p> + Boileau solved the little difficulty by blurting out: “Won't you come too, + sir?” + </p> + <p> + Cleever almost shouted “Yes,” and while he was being helped into his coat + continued to murmur “Good Heavens!” at intervals in a way that the boys + could not understand. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think I've been to the Empire in my life,” said he; “but—what + is my life after all? Let us go.” + </p> + <p> + They went out with Eustace Cleever, and I sulked at home because they had + come to see me, but had gone over to the better man; which was + humiliating. They packed him into a cab with utmost reverence, for was he + not the author of “As it was in the Beginning,” and a person in whose + company it was an honour to go abroad? From all I gathered later, he had + taken less interest in the performance before him than in their + conversations, and they protested with emphasis that he was “as good a man + as they make; knew what a man was driving at almost before he said it; and + yet he's so damned simple about things any man knows.” That was one of + many comments. + </p> + <p> + At midnight they returned, announcing that they were “highly respectable + gondoliers,” and that oysters and stout were what they chiefly needed. The + eminent novelist was still with them, and I think he was calling them by + their shorter names. I am certain that he said he had been moving in + worlds not realised, and that they had shown him the Empire in a new + light. + </p> + <p> + Still sore at recent neglect, I answered shortly, “Thank Heaven we have + within the land ten thousand as good as they,” and when he departed, asked + him what he thought of things generally. + </p> + <p> + He replied with another quotation, to the effect that though singing was a + remarkably fine performance, I was to be quite sure that few lips would be + moved to song if they could find a sufficiency of kissing. + </p> + <p> + Whereby I understood that Eustace Cleever, decorator and colourman in + words, was blaspheming his own Art, and would be sorry for this in the + morning. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Soldiers Three, Part II., by Rudyard Kipling + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SOLDIERS THREE, PART II. *** + +***** This file should be named 2227-h.htm or 2227-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/2/2227/ + +Produced by Bill Stoddard and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Soldiers Three, Part II. + +Author: Rudyard Kipling + +Release Date: June, 2000 [EBook #2227] +Last Updated: July 21, 2012 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SOLDIERS THREE, PART II. *** + + + + +Produced by Bill Stoddard + + + + + + +SOLDIERS THREE + +Part II. + +By Rudyard Kipling + + + +CONTENTS + + "LOVE-O'-WOMEN"--from "Many Inventions" + THE BIG DRUNK DRAF' + THE MUTINY OF THE MAVERICKS + THE MAN WHO WAS + ONLY A SUBALTERN + IN THE MATTER OF A PRIVATE + THE LOST LEGION--from "Many Inventions" + THE DRUMS OF THE FORE AND AFT + JUDSON AND THE EMPIRE--from "Many Inventions" + A CONFERENCE OF THE POWERS--from "Many Inventions" + + + + +'LOVE-O'WOMEN' + + A lamentable tale of things + Done long ago, and ill done. + +The horror, the confusion, and the separation of the murderer from +his comrades were all over before I came. There remained only on the +barrack-square the blood of man calling from the ground. The hot sun had +dried it to a dusky gold-beater-skin film, cracked lozenge-wise by the +heat, and as the wind rose each lozenge, rising a little, curled up at +the edges as if it were a dumb tongue. Then a heavier gust blew all away +down wind in grains of dark-coloured dust. It was too hot to stand in +the sunshine before breakfast. The men were all in barracks talking the +matter over. A knot of soldiers' wives stood by one of the entrances +to the married quarters, while inside a woman shrieked and raved with +wicked filthy words. + +A quiet and well-conducted sergeant had shot down in broad daylight +just after early parade one of his own corporals, had then returned +to barracks and sat on a cot till the guard came for him. He would, +therefore, in due time be handed over to the High Court for trial. +Further, but this he could hardly have considered in his scheme of +revenge, he would horribly upset my work; for the reporting of the trial +would fall on me without a relief. What that trial would be like I knew +even to weariness. There would be the rifle carefully uncleaned, with +the fouling marks about breech and muzzle, to be sworn to by half a +dozen superfluous privates; there would be heat, reeking heat, till the +wet pencil slipped sideways between the fingers; and the punkah would +swish and the pleaders would jabber in the verandahs, and his Commanding +Officer would put in certificates of the prisoner's moral character, +while the jury would pant and the summer uniforms of the witnesses would +smell of dye and soaps; and some abject barrack-sweeper would lose his +head in cross-examination, and the young barrister who always defended +soldiers' cases for the credit that they never brought him, would say +and do wonderful things, and would then quarrel with me because I had +not reported him correctly. At the last, for he surely would not be +hanged, I might meet the prisoner again, ruling blank account-forms in +the Central Jail, and cheer him with the hope of a wardership in the +Andamans. + +The Indian Penal Code and its interpreters do not treat murder, under +any provocation whatever, in a spirit of jest. Sergeant Raines would +be very lucky indeed if he got off with seven years, I thought. He had +slept the night upon his wrongs, and had killed his man at twenty yards +before any talk was possible. That much I knew. Unless, therefore, +the case was doctored a little, seven years would be his least; and I +fancied it was exceedingly well for Sergeant Raines that he had been +liked by his Company. + +That same evening--no day is so long as the day of a murder--I met +Ortheris with the dogs, and he plunged defiantly into the middle of the +matter. "I'll be one o' the witnesses," said he. "I was in the verandah +when Mackie came along. 'E come from Mrs. Raines's quarters. Quigley, +Parsons, an' Trot, they was in the inside verandah, so they couldn't +'ave 'eard nothing. Sergeant Raines was in the verandah talkin' to me, +an' Mackie 'e come along acrost the square an' 'e sez, 'Well,' sez 'e, +''ave they pushed your 'elmet off yet, Sergeant?' 'e sez. An' at that +Raines 'e catches 'is breath an' 'e sez, 'My Gawd, I can't stand this!' +sez 'e, an' 'e picks up my rifle an' shoots Mackie. See?" + +"But what were you doing with your rifle in the outer verandah an hour +after parade?" + +"Cleanin' 'er," said Ortheris, with the sullen brassy stare that always +went with his choice lies. + +He might as well have said that he was dancing naked, for at no time did +his rifle need hand or rag on her twenty minutes after parade. Still the +High Court would not know his routine. + +"Are you going to stick to that--on the Book?" I asked. + +"Yes. Like a bloomin' leech." + +"All right, I don't want to know any more. Only remember that Quigley, +Parsons, and Trot couldn't have been where you say without hearing +something; and there's nearly certain to be a barrack-sweeper who was +knocking about the square at the time. There always is." + +"Twasn't the sweeper. It was the beastie. 'E's all right." + +Then I knew that there was going to be some spirited doctoring, and +I felt sorry for the Government Advocate who would conduct the +prosecution. + +When the trial came on I pitied him more, for he was always quick to +lose his temper, and made a personal matter of each lost cause. Raines's +young barrister had for once put aside his unslaked and Welling passion +for alibis and insanity, had forsworn gymnastics and fireworks, and +worked soberly for his client. Mercifully the hot weather was yet young, +and there had been no flagrant cases of barrack-shootings up to the +time; and the jury was a good one, even for an Indian jury, where nine +men out of every twelve are accustomed to weighing evidence. Ortheris +stood firm and was not shaken by any cross-examination. The one weak +point in his tale--the presence of his rifle in the outer verandah--went +unchallenged by civilian wisdom, though some of the witnesses could not +help smiling. The Government Advocate called for the rope; contending +throughout that the murder had been a deliberate one. Time had passed, +he argued, for that reflection which comes so naturally to a man whose +honour is lost. There was also the Law, ever ready and anxious to right +the wrongs of the common soldier if, in deed, wrong had been done. But +he doubted much whether there had been any sufficient wrong. Causeless +suspicion over-long brooded upon had led, by his theory, to deliberate +crime. But his attempts to minimise the motive failed. The most +disconnected witness knew--had known for weeks--the causes of offence, +and the prisoner, who naturally was the last of all to know, groaned +in the dock while he listened. The one question that the trial circled +round was whether Raines had fired under sudden and blinding provocation +given that very morning, and in the summing up it was clear that +Ortheris's evidence told. He had contrived, most artistically, to +suggest that he personally hated the Sergeant, who had come into the +verandah to give him a talking to for insubordination. In a weak moment +the Government Advocate asked one question too many, "Beggin' your +pardon, sir," Ortheris replied, "'e was callin' me a dam' impudent +little lawyer." The Court shook. The jury brought it in a killing, but +with every provocation and extenuation known to God or man, and the +Judge put his hand to his brow before giving sentence, and the Adam's +apple in the prisoner's throat went up and down mercury-pumping before a +cyclone. + +In consideration of all considerations, from his Commanding Officer's +certificate of good conduct to the sure loss of pension, service, +and honour, the prisoner would get two years, to be served in India, +and--there need be no demonstration in Court. The Government Advocate +scowled and picked up his papers; the guard wheeled with a clash, and +the prisoner was relaxed to the Secular Arm, and driven to the jail in a +broken-down ticca-gharri. + +His guard and some ten or twelve military witnesses, being less +important, were ordered to wait till what was officially called the +cool of the evening before marching back to cantonments. They gathered +together in one of the deep red brick verandahs of a disused lock-up and +congratulated Ortheris, who bore his honours modestly. I sent my +work into the office and joined them. Ortheris watched the Government +Advocate driving off lunch. + +"That's a nasty little bald-'eaded little butcher, that is," he said. +"'E don't please me. 'E's got a colley dog wot do, though. I'm goin' up +to Murree in a week. That dawg'll bring fifteen rupees anywheres." + +"You had better spend it in Masses," said Terence, unbuckling his belt, +for he had been on the prisoner's guard, standing helmeted and bolt up +right for three long hours. + +"Not me," said Ortheris cheerfully. "Gawd'll put it down to B Comp'ny's +barrick damages one o' these days. You look strapped, Terence." + +"Faith, I'm not so young as I was. That guard-mountin' wears on the +sole av the fut, and this"--he sniffed contemptuously at the brick +verandah--"is as hard setting as standin'!" + +"Wait a minute. I'll get the cushions out of my cart," I said. + +"Strewth--sofies! We're going it gay," said Ortheris, as Terence dropped +himself section by section on the leather cushions, saying prettily, +"May you niver want a soft place wheriver you go, an' power to share +utt wid a frind. Another for yourself? That's good. It lets me sit long +ways. Stanley, pass me a poipe. Augrrh! An' that's another man gone +all to pieces bekaze av a woman. I must ha' been on forty or fifty +prisoners' gyards, first an' last, an' I hate ut new ivry time." + +"Let's see. You were on Losson's, Lancey's, Dugard's, and Stebbins's, +that I can remember," I said. + +"Ay, an' before that an' before that--scores av thim," he answered with +a worn smile. "Tis betther to die than to live for thim, though. Whin +Raines comes out--he'll be changin' his kit at the jail now--he'll think +that too. He shud ha' shot himself an' the woman by rights, an' made a +clean bill av all. Now he's left the woman--she tuk tay wid Dinah Sunday +gone last--an' he's left himself. Mackie's the lucky man." + +"He's probably getting it hot where he is," I ventured, for I knew +something of the dead Corporal's record. + +"Be sure av that," said Terence, spitting over the edge of the verandah. +"But fwhat he'll get there is light marchin'-ordher to fwhat he'd ha' +got here if he'd lived." + +"Surely not. He'd have gone on and forgotten like the others." + +"Did ye know Mackie well, Sorr?" said Terence. + +"He was on the Pattiala guard of honour last winter, and I went out +shooting with him in an ekka for the day, and I found him rather an +amusing man." + +"Well, he'll ha' got shut av amusemints, excipt turnin' from wan side to +the other, these few years come. I knew Mackie, an' I've seen too many +to be mistuk in the muster av wan man. He might ha' gone on an' forgot, +as you say, Sorr, but was a man wid an educashin, an' he used ut for his +schames, an' the same educashin, an' talk an' all that made him able to +do fwhat he had a mind to wid a woman, that same wud turn back again in +the long run an' tear him alive. I can't say fwhat that I mane to say +bekaze I don't know how, but Mackie was the spit an' livin' image av +a man that I saw march the same march all but; an' 'twas worse for him +that he did not come by Mackie's ind. Wait while I remimber now. 'Twas +fwhin I was in the Black Tyrone, an' he was drafted us from Portsmouth; +an' fwhat was his misbegotten name? Larry--Larry Tighe ut was; an' wan +of the draft said he was a gentleman ranker, an' Larry tuk an' three +parts killed him for saying so. An' he was a big man, an' a strong man, +an' a handsome man, an' that tells heavy in practice wid some women, +but, takin' thim by an' large, not wid all. Yet 'twas wid all that Larry +dealt--all--for he 'ud put the comether on any woman that trod the green +earth av God, an' he knew ut. Like Mackie that's roastin' now, he knew +ut; an' niver did he put the comether on any woman save an' excipt for +the black shame. 'Tis not me that shud be talkin', dear knows, dear +knows, but the most av my mis--misalli'nces was for pure devilry, an' +mighty sorry I have been whin harm came; an' time an' again wid a girl, +ay, an' a woman too, for the matter av that, whin I have seen by the +eyes av her that I was makin' more throuble than I talked, I have hild +off an' let be for the sake av the mother that bore me. But Larry, I'm +thinkin', he was suckled by a she-devil, for he niver let wan go that +came nigh to listen to him. 'Twas his business, as if it might ha' +bin sinthry-go. He was a good soldier too. Now there was the Colonel's +governess--an' he a privit too!--that was never known in barricks; an' +wan av the Major's maids, and she was promised to a man; an' some more +outside; an' fwhat ut was amongst us we'll never know till Judgment +Day! 'Twas the nature av the baste to put the comether on the best av +thim--not the prettiest by any manner av manes--but the like av such +woman as you cud lay your band on the Book an' swear there was niver +thought av foolishness in. An' for that very reason, mark you, he was +niver caught. He came close to ut wanst or twice, but caught he niver +was, an' that cost him more at the ind than the beginnin'. He talked +to me more than most, bekaze he tould me, barrin' the accident av my +educashin, I'd ha' been the same kind av divil he was. 'An' is ut +like,' he wud say, houldin' his head high--'is ut like that I'd iver be +thrapped? For fwhat am I when all's said an' done?' he sez. 'A damned +privit,' sez he. 'An' is ut like, think you, that thim I know wud be +connect wid a privit like me? Number tin thousand four hundred an' +sivin,' he sez, grinnin'. I knew by the turn av his spache whin he was +not takin' care to talk rough that he was a gentleman ranker. + +"'I do not undherstan' ut at all,' I sez; 'but I know,' sez I, 'that the +divil looks out av your eyes, an' I'll have no share wid you. A little +fun by way av amusemint where 't will do no harm, Larry, is right and +fair, but I am mistook if 'tis any amusemint to you,' I sez. + +"'You are much mistook,' he sez. 'An' I counsel you not to judge your +betters.' + +"'My betthers!' I sez. 'God help you, Larry. There's no betther in this. +'Tis all bad, as you will find for yoursilf.' + +"You're not like me,' he says, tossin' his head. + +"'Praise the Saints, I am not,' I sez. 'Fwhat I have done I have done +an' been crool sorry for. Fwhin your time comes,' sez I, 'ye'll remimber +fwhat I say.' + +"'An' whin that time comes,' sez he, 'I'll come to you for ghostly +consolation, Father Terence,' an' at that he wint off afther some +more divil's business--for to get expayrience, he tould me. He was +wicked--rank wicked--wicked as all Hell! I'm not construct by nature to +go in fear av any man, but, begad, I was afraid av Larry. He'd come in +to barricks wid his cap on three hairs, an' lie on his cot and stare at +the ceilin', and now an' again he'd fetch a little laugh, the like av a +splash in the bottom av a well, an' by that I knew he was schamin' new +wickedness, an' I'd be afraid. All this was long an' long ago, but ut +hild me straight--for a while. + +"I tould you, did I not, Sorr, that I was caressed an' pershuaded to +lave the Tyrone on account av a throuble?" + +"Something to do with a belt and a man's head, wasn't it?" Terence had +never given me the exact facts. + +"It was. Faith, ivry time I go on prisoner's gyard in coort I wondher +fwhy I am not where the pris'ner is. But the man I struk tuk it in fair +fight, an' he had the good sinse not to die. Considher now, fwhat wud +ha' come to the Arrmy if he had! I was enthreated to exchange, an' my +Commandin' Orf'cer pled wid me. I wint, not to be disobligin', an' Larry +tould me he was powerful sorry to lose me, though fwhat I'd done to make +him sorry I do not know. So to the Ould Rig'mint I came, lavin' Larry to +go to the divil his own way, an' niver expectin' to see him again except +as a shootin'-case in barricks.... Who's that lavin' the compound?" +Terence's quick eye had caught sight of a white uniform skulking behind +hedge. + +"The Sergeant's gone visiting," said a voice. + +"Thin I command here, an' I will have no sneakin' away to the bazar, an' +huntin' for you wid a pathrol at midnight. Nalson, for I know ut's you, +come back to the verandah." + +Nalson, detected, slunk back to his fellows. There was a grumble that +died away in a minute or two, and Terence, turning on the other side, +went on:-- + +"That was the last I saw av Larry for a while. Exchange is the same as +death for not thinkin', an' by token I married Dinah, an' that kept me +from remimberin' ould times. Thin we wint up to the Front, an' ut tore +my heart in tu to lave Dinah at the Depot in Pindi. Consequint whin +was at the Front I fought circumspectuous till I warrmed up, an thin I +fought double tides. You remimber fwhat I tould you in the gyard-gate av +the fight at Silver's Theatre." + +"Wot's that about Silver's Theayter!" said Ortheris quickly, over his +shoulder. + +"Nothin', little man. A tale that ye know. As I was sayin', afther that +fight us av the Ould Rig'mint an' the Tyrone was all mixed together +takin' shtock ay the dead, an' av coorse I wint about to find if there +was any man that remimbered me. The second man I came acrost--an' how +I'd missed him in the fight I do not know--was Larry, an' a fine man he +looked, but oulder, by token that he had a call to be. 'Larry,' sez I, +'how is ut wid you?' + +"'Ye're callin' the wrong man,' he sez, wid his gentleman's smile; +'Larry has been dead these three years. They call him "Love-o'-Women" +now,' he sez. By that I knew the ould divil was in him yet, but the ind +av a fight is no time for the beginnin' av confession, so we sat down +an' talked av times.' + +"'They tell me you're a married man,' he sez, puffing slow at his poipe. +'Are ye happy?' + +"'I will be whin I get back to Depot,' I sez. ''Tis a reconnaissance +honeymoon now.' + +"'I'm married too,' he sez, puffin' slow an' more slow, an' stopperin' +wid his forefinger. + +"'Sind you happiness,' I sez. 'That's the best hearin' for a long time.' + +"'Are ye av that opinion?' he sez; an' thin he began talkin' av the +campaign. The sweat av Silver's Theatre was not dhry upon him, an' he +was prayin' for more work. I was well contint to lie and listen to the +cook-pot lids. + +"Whin he got up off the ground he shtaggered a little, an' laned over +all twisted. + +"'Ye've got more than ye bargained for,' I sez. 'Take an inventory, +Larry. 'Tis like you're hurt.' + +"He turned round stiff as a ramrod an' damned the eyes av me up an' down +for an impartinent Irish-faced ape. If that had been in barricks, I'd +ha' stretched him an' no more said; but 'twas at the Front, an' afther +such a fight as Silver's Theatre I knew there was no callin' a man to +account for his timpers. He might as well ha' kissed me. Aftherwards +I was well pleased I kept my fistes home. Then our Captain +Crook--Cruik-na-bul-leen--came up. He'd been talkin' to the little +orf'cer bhoy av the Tyrone. 'We're all cut to windystraws,' he sez, 'but +the Tyrone are damned short for noncoms. Go you over there, Mulvaney, +an' be Deputy-Sergeant, Corp'ral, Lance, an' everything else ye can lay +hands on till I bid you stop.' + +"'I wint over an' tuk hould. There was wan sergeant left standin', an' +they'd pay no heed to him. The remnint was me, an' 'twas high time I +came. Some I talked to, an' some I did not, but before night the bhoys +av the Tyrone stud to attention, begad, if I sucked on my poipe above a +whishper. Betune you an' me an' Bobs, I was commandin' the company, an' +that was what Cruik had thransferred me for, an' the little orf'cer bhoy +knew ut, and I knew ut, but the comp'ny did not. And there, mark you, is +the vartue that no money an' no dhrill can buy--the vartue av the ould +soldier that knows his orf'cer's work an' does ut--at the salute! + +"Thin the Tyrone, wid the Ould Rig'mint in touch, was sint maraudin' +and prowlin' acrost the hills promishcuous an' unsatisfactory. 'Tis my +privit opinion that a gin'ral does not know half his time fwhat to do +wid three-quarthers his command. So he shquats on his hunkers an' bids +thim run round an' round forninst him while he considhers on ut. Whin by +the process av nature they get sejuced into a big fight that was none av +their seekin', he sez: 'Obsarve my shuparior janius! I meant ut to come +so.' We ran round an' about, an' all we got was shootin' into the camp +at night, an' rushin' empty sungars wid the long bradawl, an' bein' hit +from behind rocks till we was wore out--all except Love-o'-Women. That +puppy-dog business was mate an' dhrink to him. Begad, he cud niver +get enough av ut. Me well knowin' that it is just this desultorial +campaignin' that kills the best men, an' suspicionin' that if I was cut +the little orf'cer bhoy wud expind all his men in thryin' to get out, I +wud lie most powerful doggo whin I heard a shot, an' curl my long legs +behind a bowlder, an' run like blazes whin the ground was clear. +Faith, if I led the Tyrone in rethreat wanst I led them forty times. +Love-o'-Women wud stay pottin' an' pottin' from behind a rock, and wait +till the fire was heaviest, an' thin stand up an' fire man-height clear. +He wud lie out in camp too at night snipin' at the shadows, for he +niver tuk a mouthful av slape. My commandin' orf'cer--save his little +soul!--cud not see the beauty av of my strategims, an' whin the Ould +Rig'mint crossed us, an' that was wanst a week, he'd throt off to +Cruik, wid his big blue eyes as round as saucers, an' lay an information +against me. I heard thim wanst talkin' through the tent-wall, an' I +nearly laughed. + +"'He runs--runs like a hare,' sez the little orf'cer bhoy. ''Tis +demoralisin' my men.' + +"'Ye damned little fool,' sez Cruik, laughin'. 'He's larnin' you your +business. Have ye been rushed at night yet?' + +"'No,' sez the child, wishful that he had been. + +"'Have you any wounded?' sez Cruik. + +"'No,' he sez. 'There was no chanst for that. They follow Mulvaney too +quick,' he sez. + +"'Fwhat more do you want, thin?' sez Cruik. 'Terence is bloodin' you +neat an' handy,' he sez. 'He knows fwhat you do not, an' that's that +there's a time for ivrything. He'll not lead you wrong,' he sez, 'but +I'd give a month's pay to larn fwhat he thinks av you.' + +"That kept the babe quiet, but Love-o'-Women was pokin' at me for +ivrything I did, an' specially my manoeuvres. + +"'Mr. Mulvaney,' he sez wan evenin', very contempshus, 'you're growin' +very jeldy wid your feet. Among gentlemen,' he sez, 'among gentlemen +that's called no pretty name.' + +"'Among privits 'tis different,' I sez. 'Get back to your tent. I'm +sergeant here,' I sez. + +"There was just enough in the voice av me to tell him he was playin' wid +his life betune his teeth. He wint off, an' I noticed that this man that +was contempshus set off from the halt wid a shunt as tho' he was bein' +kicked behind. That same night there was a Paythan picnic in the hills +about, an' firin' into our tents fit to wake the livin' dead. 'Lie +down all,' I sez. 'Lie down an' kape still. They'll no more than waste +ammunition.' + +"I heard a man's feet on the ground, an' thin a 'Tini joinin' in the +chorus. I'd been lyin' warm, thinkin' av Dinah an' all, but I crup out +wid the bugle for to look round in case there was a rush, an' the 'Tini +was flashin' at the fore-ind av the camp, an' the hill near by was +fair flickerin' wid long-range fire. Undher the starlight I beheld +Love-o'-Women settin' on a rock wid his belt and helmet off. He shouted +wanst or twice, an' thin I heard him say: 'They should ha' got the range +long ago. Maybe they'll fire at the flash.' Thin he fired again, an' +that dhrew a fresh volley, and the long slugs that they chew in their +teeth came floppin' among the rocks like tree-toads av a hot night. +'That's better,' sez Love-o'-Women. 'Oh Lord, how long, how long!' he +sez, an' at that he lit a match an' held ut above his head. + +"'Mad,' thinks I, 'mad as a coot,' an' I tuk wan stip forward, an' the +nixt I knew was the sole av my boot flappin' like a cavalry gydon an' +the funny-bone av my toes tinglin'. 'Twas a clane-cut shot--a slug--that +niver touched sock or hide, but set me bare-fut on the rocks. At that I +tuk Love-o'-Women by the scruff an' threw him under a bowlder, an' whin +I sat down I heard the bullets patterin' on that good stone. + +"'Ye may dhraw your own wicked fire,' I sez, shakin' him, 'but I'm not +goin' to be kilt too.' + +"Ye've come too soon,' he sez. 'Ye've come too soon. In another minute +they cud not ha' missed me. Mother av God,' he sez, 'fwhy did ye not +lave me be? Now 'tis all to do again,' an' he hides his face in his +hands. + +"'So that's it,' I sez, shakin' him again. 'That's th manin' av your +disobeyin' ordhers.' + +"'I dare not kill meself,' he sez, rockin' to and fro. 'My own hand wud +not let me die, and there's not a bullet this month past wud touch me. +I'm to die slow,' he sez. 'I'm to die slow. But I'm in hell now,' he +sez, shriekin' like a woman. 'I'm in hell now!' + +"'God be good to us all,' I sez, for I saw his face. 'Will ye tell a man +the throuble. If 'tis not murder, maybe we'll mend it yet.' + +"At that he laughed. 'D'you remimber fwhat I said in the Tyrone barricks +about comin' to you for ghostly consolation. I have not forgot,' he sez. +'That came back, an' the rest av my time is on me now, Terence. I've +fought ut off for months an' months, but the liquor will not bite any +more, Terence,' he sez. 'I can't get dhrunk.' + +"Thin I knew he spoke the truth about bein' in hell, for whin liquor +does not take hould, the sowl av a man is rotten in him. But me bein' +such as I was, fwhat could I say to him? + +"'Di'monds an' pearls,' he begins again. 'Di'monds and pearls I have +thrown away wid both hands--an' fwhat have I left? Oh, fwhat have I +left?' + +"He was shakin' an' thremblin' up against my shouldher, an' the slugs +was singin' overhead, an' I was wonderin' whether my little bhoy wud +have sinse enough to kape his men quiet through all this firin'. + +"'So long as I did not think,' sez Love-o'-Women, 'so long I did not +see--I wud not see--but I can now, what I've lost. The time an' the +place,' he sez, 'an' the very words I said whin ut pleased me to go off +alone to hell. But thin, even thin,' he sez, wrigglin' tremenjus, 'I +wud not ha' been happy. There was too much behind av me. How cud I ha' +believed her sworn oath--me that have bruk mine again an' again for the +sport av seein' thim cry. An' there are the others,' he sez. 'Oh, what +will I do--what will I do'?' He rocked back an' forward again, an' I +think he was cryin' like wan av the women he dealt wid. + +"The full half av fwhat he said was Brigade Ordhers to me, but from the +rest an' the remnint I suspicioned somethin' av his throuble. 'Twas the +judgmint av God had grup the heel av him, as I tould him 'twould in the +Tyrone barricks. The slugs was singin' over our rock more an' more, an' +I sez for to divart him: 'Let bad alone,' I sez. 'They'll be thryin' to +rush the camp in a minut'.' + +"I had no more than said that whin a Paythan man crep' up on his belly +wid his knife betune his teeth, not twinty yards from us. Love-o'-Women +jumped up an' fetched a yell, an' the man saw him an' ran at him (he'd +left his rifle under the rock) wid the knife. Love-o'-Women niver turned +a hair, but by the Living Power, for I saw ut, a stone twisted under +the Paythan man's feet an' he came down full sprawl, an' his knife wint +tinklin' acrost the rocks! 'I tould you I was Cain,' sez Love-o'-Women.' +'Fwhat's the use av killin' him? He's an honest man--by compare.' + +"I was not dishputin' about the morils av Paythans that tide, so I +dhropped Love-o'-Women's burt acrost the man's face, an' 'Hurry into +camp,' I sez, 'for this may be the first av a rush.' + +"There was no rush afther all, though we waited undher arms to give +thim a chanst. The Paythan man must ha' come alone for the mischief, +an' afther a while Love-o'-Women wint back to his tint wid that quare +lurchin' sind-off in his walk that I cud niver undherstand. Begad, I +pitied him, an' the more bekaze he made me think for the rest av the +night av the day whin I was confirmed Corp'ril, not actin' Lef'tenant, +an' my thoughts was not good. + +"Ye can undherstand that afther that night we came to talkin' a dale +together, an' bit by bit ut came out fwhat I'd suspicioned. The whole +av his carr'in's on an' divilmints had come back on him hard as liquor +comes back whin you've been on the dhrink for a wake. All he'd said an' +all he'd done, an' only he cud tell how much that was, come back, an' +there was niver a minut's peace in his sowl. 'Twas the Horrors widout +any cause to see, an' yet, an' yet--fwhat am I talkin' av? He'd ha' +taken the Horrors wid thankfulness. Beyon' the repentince av the man, +an' that was beyon' the natur av man--awful, awful, to behould!--there +was more that was worst than any repentince. Av the scores an' scores +that he called over in his mind (an' they were dhrivin' him mad), there +was, mark you, wan woman av all, an' she was not his wife, that cut him +to the quick av his marrow. 'Twas there he said that he'd thrown away +di'monds an' pearls past count, an' thin he'd begin again like a blind +byle in an oil-mill, walkin' round an' round, to considher (him that was +beyond all touch av being happy this side hell!) how happy he wud ha' +been wid her. The more he considhered, the more he'd consate himself +that he'd lost mighty happiness, an' thin he wud work ut all backwards, +an' cry that he niver cud ha' been happy anyways. + +"Time an' time an' again in camp, on p'rade, ay, an' in action, I've +seen that man shut his eyes an' duck his head as you wud duck to the +flicker av a bay'nit. For 'twas thin he tould me that the thought av all +he'd missed came an' stud forninst him like red-hot irons. For what +he'd done wid the others he was sorry, but he did not care; but this wan +woman that I've tould of, by the Hilts av God she made him pay for +all the others twice over! Niver did I know that a man cud enjure such +tormint widout his heart crackin' in his ribs, an' I have been"--Terence +turned the pipe-stem slowly between his teeth--"I have been in some +black cells. All I iver suffered tho' was not to be talked of alongside +av him... an' what could I do? Paternosters was no more than peas for +his sorrow. + +"Evenshually we finished our prom'nade acrost the hills, and thanks to +me for the same, there was no casualties an' no glory. The campaign was +comin' to an ind, an' all the rig'mints was bein' drawn together for to +be sint back home. Love-o'-Women was mighty sorry bekaze he had no work +to do, an' all his time to think in. I've heard that man talkin' to +his belt-plate an' his side-arms while he was soldierin' thim, all to +prevint himself from thinkin', an' ivry time he got up afther he had +been settin' down or wint on from the halt, he'd start wid that kick an' +traverse that I tould you of--his legs sprawlin' all ways to wanst. He +wud niver go see the docthor, tho' I tould him to be wise. He'd curse +me up an' down for my advice; but I knew he was no more a man to be +reckoned wid than the little bhoy was a commandin' orf'cer, so I let his +tongue run if it aised him. + +"Wan day--'twas on the way back--I was walkin' round camp wid him, +an' he stopped an' struck ground wid his right fut three or four times +doubtful. 'Fwhat is ut?' I sez. 'Is that ground?' sez he; an' while +I was thinkin' his mind was goin', up comes the docthor, who'd been +anatomisin' a dead bullock. Love-o'-Women starts to go on quick, an' +lands me a kick on the knee while his legs was gettin' into marchin' +ordher. + +"Hould on there,' sez the docthor; an' Love-o'-Women's face, that was +lined like a gridiron, turns red as brick. + +"'Tention,' says the docthor; an' Love-o'-Women stud so. 'Now shut your +eyes,' sez the docthor. 'No, ye must not hould by your comrade.' + +"'Tis all up,' sez Love-o'-Women, trying to smile. 'I'd fall, docthor, +an' you know ut.' + +"'Fall?' I sez. 'Fall at attention wid your eyes shut! Fwhat do you +mane?' + +"The docthor knows,' he sez. 'I've hild up as long as I can, but begad +I'm glad 'tis all done. But I will die slow,' he sez, 'I will die very +slow.' + +"I cud see by the docthor's face that he was mortial sorry for the +man, an' he ordhered him to hospital. We wint back together, an' I was +dumbstruck; Love-o'-Women was cripplin' and crumblin' at ivry step. He +walked wid a hand on my shoulder all slued sideways, an' his right leg +swingin' like a lame camel. Me not knowin' more than the dead fwhat +ailed him, 'twas just as though the docthor's word had done ut all--as +if Love-o'-Women had but been waitin' for the ordher to let go. + +"In hospital he sez somethin' to the docthor that I could not catch. + +"'Holy shmoke!' sez the docthor, 'an' who are you to be givin' names to +your diseases? 'Tis ag'in' all the regulations.' + +"'I'll not be a privit much longer,' sez Love-o'-Women in his +gentleman's voice, an' the docthor jumped. + +"'Thrate me as a study, Docthor Lowndes,' he sez; an' that was the first +time I'd iver heard a docthor called his name. + +"'Good-bye, Terence,' sez Love-o'-Women. ''Tis a dead man I am widout the +pleasure av dyin'. You'll come an' set wid me sometimes for the peace av +my soul.' + +"Now I had been minded to ask Cruik to take me back to the Ould +Rig'mint, for the fightin' was over, an' I was wore out wid the ways av +the bhoys in the Tyrone; but I shifted my will, an' hild on, an' wint +to set wid Love-o'-Women in the hospital. As I have said, Sorr, the man +bruk all to little pieces undher my hand. How long he had hild up an' +forced himself fit to march I cannot tell, but in hospital but two days +later he was such as I hardly knew. I shuk hands wid him, an' his grip +was fair strong, but his hands wint all ways to wanst, an' he cud not +button his tunic. + +"'I'll take long an' long to die yet,' he sez, 'for the ways av sin +they're like interest in the rig'mintal savin's-bank--sure, but a damned +long time bein' paid.' + +"The docthor sez to me quiet one day, 'Has Tighe there anythin' on his +mind?' he sez. 'He's burnin' himself out.' + +"'How shud I know, Sorr?' I sez, as innocent as putty. + +"They call him Love-o'-Women in the Tyrone, do they not?' he sez. 'I +was a fool to ask. Be wid him all you can. He's houldin' on to your +strength.' + +"'But what ails him, docthor,' I sez. + +"'They call ut Locomotus attacks us,' he sez, 'bekaze,' sez he, 'ut +attacks us like a locomotive, if ye know fwhat that manes. An' +ut comes,' sez he, lookin' at me, 'ut comes from bein' called +Love-o'-Women.' + +"'You're jokin', docthor,' I sez. + +"'Jokin'!' sez he. 'If iver you feel that you've got a felt sole in your +boot instead av a Government bull's-wool, come to me,' he sez, 'an' I'll +show you whether 'tis a joke.' + +"You would not belave ut, Sorr, but that an' seein' Love-o'-Women +overtuk widout warnin' put the cowld fear av attacks us on me so strong +that for a week an' more I was kickin' my toes against stones an' stumps +for the pleasure av feelin' them hurt. + +"An' Love-o'-Women lay in the cot (he might have gone down wid the +wounded before an' before, but he asked to stay wid me), and fwhat there +was in his mind had full swing at him night an' day an' ivry hour av the +day an' the night, an' he withered like beef rations in a hot sun, an' +his eyes was like owls' eyes, an' his hands was mut'nous. + +"They was gettin' the rig'mints away wan by wan, the campaign bein' +inded, but as ushuil they was behavin' as if niver a rig'mint had been +moved before in the mem'ry av man. Now, fwhy is that, Sorr? There's +fightin' in an' out nine months av the twelve somewhere in the Army. +There has been--for years an' years an' years, an' I wud ha' thought +they'd begin to get the hang av providin' for throops. But no! Ivry time +it's like a girls' school meetin' a big red bull whin they're goin' to +church; an' 'Mother av God,' sez the Commissariat an' the railways an' +the Barrick-masters, 'fwhat will we do now?' The ordhers came to us av +the Tyrone an' the Ould Rig'mint an' half a dozen more to go down, and +there the ordhers stopped dumb. We wint down, by the special grace av +God--down the Khaiber anyways. There was sick wid us, an' I'm thinkin' +that some av them was jolted to death in the doolies, but they was +anxious to be kilt so if they cud get to Peshawur alive the sooner. I +walked by Love-o'-Women--there was no marchin', an' Love-o'-Women was +not in a stew to get on. 'If I'd only ha' died up there!' sez he through +the doolie-curtains, an' then he'd twist up his eyes an' duck his head +for the thoughts that came to him. + +"Dinah was in Depot at Pindi, but I wint circumspectuous, for well I +knew 'tis just at the rump-ind av all things that his luck turns on +a man. By token I ad seen a dhriver of a batthery goin' by at a trot +singin' 'Home, swate home' at the top av his shout, and takin' no heed +o his bridle-hand--I had seen that man dhrop under the gun in the middle +of a word, and come out by the limber like--like a frog on a pave-stone. +No. I wud not hurry, though, God knows, my heart was all in Pindi. +Love-o'-Women saw fwhat was in my mind, an' 'Go on, Terence,' h sez, 'I +know fwhat's waitin' for you.' 'I will not,' I sez. ''Twill kape a little +yet.' + +"Ye know the turn of the pass forninst Jumrood and the nine mile road +on the flat to Peshawur? All Peshawur was along that road day and night +waitin' for frinds--men, women, childer, and bands. Some av the throops +was camped round Jumrood, an' some went on to Peshawur to get away down +to their cantonmints. We came through in the early mornin', havin' been +awake the night through, and we dhruv sheer into the middle av the mess. +Mother av Glory, will I ever forget that comin' back? The light was not +fair lifted, and the furst we heard was 'For 'tis my delight av a shiny +night,' frum a band that thought we was the second four comp'nies av the +Lincolnshire. At that we was forced to sind them a yell to say who we +was, an' thin up wint 'The wearin' av the Green.' It made me crawl all +up my backbone, not havin' taken my brequist. Thin, right smash into our +rear, came fwhat was left av the Jock Elliotts--wid four pipers an' not +half a kilt among thim, playin' for the dear life, an' swingin' their +rumps like buck rabbits, an' a native rig'mint shrieking blue murther. +Ye niver heard the like. There was men cryin' like women that did--an' +faith I do not blame thim. Fwhat bruk me down was the Lancers' +Band--shinin' an' spick like angels, wid the ould dhrum-horse at the +head an' the silver kettle-dhrums an' all an' all, waitin' for their +men that was behind us. They shtruck up the Cavalry Canter, an', begad, +those poor ghosts that had not a sound fut in a throop they answered to +ut, the men rockin' in their saddles. We thried to cheer them as they +wint by, but ut came out like a big gruntin' cough, so there must have +been many that was feelin' like me. Oh, but I'm forgettin'! The +Fly-by-Nights was waitin' for their second battalion, an' whin ut came +out, there was the Colonel's horse led at the head--saddle-empty. The +men fair worshipped him, an' he'd died at Au Musjid on the road down. +They waited till the remnint av the battalion was up, and thin--clane +against ordhers, for who wanted that chune that day?--they wint back to +Peshawur slow-time an' tearin' the bowils out av ivry man that heard, +wid 'The Dead March.' Right across our line they wint, an' ye know their +uniforms are as black as the Sweeps, crawlin' past like the dead, an' +the other bands damnin' them to let be. + +"Little they cared. The carpse was wid them, an' they'd ha' taken ut so +through a Coronation. Our ordhers was to go into Peshawur, an' we wint +hot-fut past the Fly-by-Nights, not singin', to lave that chune behind +us. That was how we tuk the road of the other corps. + +"'Twas ringin' in my ears still whin I felt in the bones of me that +Dinah was comin', an' I heard a shout, an' thin I saw a horse an' a +tattoo latherin' down the road, hell to shplit, under women. I knew--I +knew! Wan was the Tyrone Colonel's wife--ould Beeker's lady--her gray +hair flyin' an' her fat round carkiss rowlin' in the saddle, an' the +other was Dinah, that shud ha' been at Pindi. The Colonel's lady she +charged at the head av our column like a stone wall, an' she all but +knocked Beeker off his horse throwin' her arms round his neck an' +blubberin', 'Me bhoy! Me bhoy!' an' Dinah wheeled left an' came down +our flank, an' I let a yell that had suffered inside av me for months, +and--Dinah came. Will I iver forget that while I live! She'd come on +pass from Pindi, an' the Colonel's lady had lint her the tattoo. They'd +been huggin' an' cryin' in each other's arms all the long night. + +"So she walked along wid her hand in mine, askin' forty questions to +wanst, an' beggin' me on the Virgin to make oath that there was not +a bullet consaled in me, unbeknownst somewhere, an' thin I remimbered +Love-o'-Women. He was watchin' us, an' his face was like the face av a +divil that has been cooked too long. I did not wish Dinah to see ut, for +whin a woman's runnin' over wid happiness she's like to be touched, +for harm aftherwards, by the laste little thing in life. So I dhrew the +curtain, an' Love-o'-Women lay back and groaned. + +"Whin we marched into Peshawur, Dinah wint to barracks to wait for me, +an' me feelin' so rich that tide, I wint on to take Love-o'-Women to +hospital. It was the last I cud do, an' to save him the dust an' the +smother I turned the doolie-men down a road well clear av the rest av +the throops, an we wint along, me talkin' through the curtains. Av a +sudden I heard him say:-- + +"'Let me look. For the Mercy av Hiven, let me look!' I had been so tuk +up wid gettin' him out av the dust and thinkin' of Dinah that I had not +kept my eyes about me. There was a woman ridin' a little behind av us, +an', talkin' ut over wid Dinah aftherwards, that same woman must ha' rid +not far on the Jumrood road. Dinah said that she had been hoverin' like +a kite on the left flank av the column. + +"I halted the doolie to set the curtains, an' she rode by walkin'-pace, +an' Love-o'-Women's eyes wint afther her as if he would fair haul her +down from the saddle. + +"'Follow there,' was all he sez, but I niver heard a man spake in that +voice before or since, an' I knew by those two wan words an' the look +in his face that she was Di'monds-an'-Pearls that he'd talked av in his +disthresses. + +"We followed till she turned into the gate av a little house that stud +near the Edwardes's Gate. There was two girls in the verandah, an' they +ran in whin they saw us. Faith, at long eye-range ut did not take me a +wink to see fwhat kind av house ut was. The throops bein' there an' all, +there was three or four such, but aftherwards the polis bade them go. +At the verandah Love-o'-Women sez, catchin' his breath, 'Stop here,' +an' thin, an' thin, wid a grunt that must ha' tore the heart up from his +stomach, he swung himself out av the doolie, an' my troth he stud up on +his feet wid the sweat pourin' down his face. If Mackie was to walk in +here now I'd be less tuk back than I was thin. Where he'd dhrawn his +power from, God knows or the divil--but 't was a dead man walkin' in the +sun wid the face av a dead man and the breath av a dead man held up by +the Power, an' the legs an' the arms of the carpse obeyin' ordhers! + +"The woman stud in the verandah. She'd been a beauty too, though her +eyes was sunk in her head, an' she looked Love-o'-Women up an' down +terrible. 'An',' she sez, kickin' back the tail av her habit,--'An',' +she sez, 'fwhat are you doin' here, married man?' + +"Love-o'-Women said nothin', but a little froth came to his lips, an' +he wiped ut off wid his hand an' looked at her an' the paint on her, an' +looked, an' looked, an' looked. + +"'An' yet,' she sez, wid a laugh. (Did you hear Mrs. Raines laugh whin +Mackie died? Ye did not? Well for you.) 'An' yet,' she sez, 'who but you +have betther right,' sez she. 'You taught me the road. You showed me the +way,' she sez. 'Ay, look,' she sez, 'for 'tis your work; you that tould +me--d'you remimber it?--that a woman who was false to wan man cud be +false to two. I have been that,' she sez, 'that an' more, for you always +said I was a quick learner, Ellis. Look well,' she sez, 'for it is +me that you called your wife in the sight av God long since!' An' she +laughed. + +"Love-o'-Women stud still in the sun widout answerin'. Thin he groaned +an' coughed to wanst, an' I thought 'twas the death-rattle, but he +niver tuk his eyes off her face not for a wink. Ye cud ha' put her +eyelashes through the flies av an E. P. tent, they were so long. + +"'Fwhat do you do here?' she sez, word by word, 'that have taken away my +joy in my man this five years gone--that have broken my rest an' killed +my body an' damned my soul for the sake av seem' how 'twas done? Did +your expayrience aftherwards bring you acrost any woman that gave more +than I did? Wud I not ha' died for you an' wid you, Ellis? Ye know that, +man! If ever your lyin' sowl saw truth in uts life ye know that.' + +"An' Love-o'-Women lifted up his head and said, 'I knew,' an' that was +all. While she was spakin' the Power hild him up parade-set in the 'sun, +an the sweat dhropped undher his helmet. 'Twas more an' more throuble +for him to talk, an' his mouth was runnin' twistways. + +"Fwhat do you do here?' she sez, an' her voice whit up. 'Twas like +bells tollin' before. 'Time was whin you were quick enough wid your +words,--you that talked me down to hell. Are ye dumb now?' An' Love-o'-W +omen got his tongue, an' sez simple, like a little child, 'May I come +in?' he sez. + +"The house is open day an' night,' she sez, wid a laugh; an' +Love-o'-Women ducked his head an' hild up his hand as tho' he was +gyardin'. The Power was on him still--it hild him up still, for, by my +sowl, as I'll never save ut, he walked up the verandah steps that had +been a livin' corpse in hospital for a month! + +"'An' now'?' she sez, lookin' at him; an' the red paint stud lone on the +white av her face like a bull's-eye on a target. + +"He lifted up his eyes, slow an' very slow, an' he looked at her long +an' very long, an' he tuk his spache betune his teeth wid a wrench that +shuk him. + +"'I'm dyin', Aigypt--dyin',' he sez; ay, those were his words, for I +remimber the name he called her. He was turnin' the death-colour, but +his eyes niver rowled. They were set--set on her. Widout word or warnin' +she opened her arms full stretch, an' 'Here!' she sez. (Oh, fwhat +a golden mericle av a voice ut was!) 'Die here,' she sez; an' +Love-o'-Women dhropped forward, an' she hild him up, for she was a fine +big woman. + +"I had no time to turn, bekaze that minut I heard the sowl quit +him--tore out in the death-rattle--an' she laid him back in a long +chair, an' she sez to me, 'Misther soldier,' she sez, 'will ye not go in +an' talk to wan av the girls. This sun's too much for him.' + +"Well I knew there was no sun he'd iver see, but I cud not spake, so +I wint away wid the empty doolie to find the docthor. He'd been +breakfastin' an' lunchin' ever since we'd come in, an' he was as full as +a tick. + +"Faith ye've got dhrunk mighty soon,' he sez, whin I'd tould him, 'to +see that man walk. Barrin' a puff or two av life, he was a corpse before +we left Jumrood. I've a great mind,' he sez, 'to confine you.' + +"There's a dale av liquor runnin' about, docthor,' I sez, solemn as a +hard-boiled egg. 'Maybe 'tis so, but will ye not come an' see the corpse +at the house?' + +"Tis dishgraceful,' he sez, 'that I would be expected to go to a place +like that. Was she a pretty woman?'' he sez, an' at that he set off +double quick. + +"I cud see that the two was in the verandah were I'd left them, an' +I knew by the hang av her head an' the noise av the crows fwhat had +happened. 'Twas the first and the last time that I'd ever known woman to +use the pistol. They dread the shot as a rule, but Di'monds-an'-Pearls +she did not--she did not. + +"The docthor touched the long black hair av her head ('twas all loose +upon Love-o'-Women's chest), an' that cleared the liquor out av him. He +stud considherin' a long time, his hands in his pockets, an' at last +he sez to me, 'Here's a double death from naturil causes, most naturil +causes; an' in the presint state av affairs the rig'mint will be +thankful for wan grave the less to dig. Issiwasti,' he sez, 'Issiwasti, +Privit Mulvaney, these two will be buried together in the Civil Cemet'ry +at my expinse, an' may the good God,' he sez, 'make it SO much for me +whin my time comes. Go to your wife,' he sez; 'go an' be happy. I'll see +to this all.' + +"I left him still considherin'. They was buried in the Civil Cemet'ry +together, wid a Church of England service. There was too many buryin's +thin to ask questions, an' the docthor--he ran away wid Major--Major Van +Dyce's lady that year--he saw to ut all. Fwhat the right an' the wrong +av Love-o'-Women an' Di'monds-an'-Pearls was I niver knew, an' I will +niver know; but I've tould ut as I came acrost ut--here an' there in +little pieces. So, being fwhat I am, an' knowin' fwhat I know, that's +fwhy I say in this shootin'-case here, Mackie that's dead an' in hell is +the lucky man. There are times, Sorr, whin 'tis betther for the man to +die than to live, an' by consequince forty million times betther for the +woman." + +"H'up there!" said Ortheris. "It's time to go." The witnesses and guard +formed up in the thick white dust of the parched twilight and swung off, +marching easy and whistling. Down the road to the green by the church +I could hear Ortheris, the black Book-lie still uncleansed on his +lips, setting, with a fine sense of the fitness of things, the shrill +quick-step that runs-- + + "Oh, do not despise the advice of the wise, + Learn wisdom from those that are older, + And don't try for things that are out of your reach-- + An' that's what the Girl told the Soldier + Soldier! Soldier! + Oh, that's what the Girl told the Soldier!" + + + + +THE BIG DRUNK DRAF' + + We're goin' 'ome, we're goin' 'ome-- + Our ship is at the shore, + An' you mus' pack your 'aversack, + For we won't come back no more. + Ho, don't you grieve for me, + My lovely Mary Ann, + For I'll marry you yet on a fourp'ny bit, + As a time-expired ma-a-an + + Barrack Room Ballad. + + +AN awful thing has happened! My friend, Private Mulvaney, who went home +in the Serapis, time-expired, not very long ago, has come back to India +as a civilian! It was all Dinah Shadd's fault. She could not stand the +poky little lodgings, and she missed her servant Abdullah more than +words could tell. The fact was that the Mulvaneys had been out here too +long, and had lost touch of England. + +Mulvaney knew a contractor on one of the new Central India lines, and +wrote to him for some sort of work. The contractor said that if Mulvaney +could pay the passage he would give him command of a gang of coolies for +old sake's sake. The pay was eighty-five rupees a month, and Dinah Shadd +said that if Terence did not accept she would make his life a "basted +purgathory." Therefore the Mulvaneys came out as "civilians," which +was a great and terrible fall; though Mulvaney tried to disguise it by +saying that he was "Ker'nel on the railway line, an' a consequinshal +man." + +He wrote me an invitation, on a tool-indent form, to visit him; and I +came down to the funny little "construction" bungalow at the side of +the line. Dinah Shadd had planted peas about and about, and nature had +spread all manner of green stuff round the place. There was no change in +Mulvaney except the change of clothing, which was deplorable, but could +not be helped. He was standing upon his trolly, haranguing a gangman, +and his shoulders were as well drilled and his big, thick chin was as +clean-shaven as ever. + +"I'm a civilian now," said Mulvaney. "Cud you tell that I was iver +a martial man'? Don't answer, Sorr, av you're strainin' betune a +complimint an' a lie. There's no houldin' Dinah Shadd now she's got +a house av her own. Go inside, an' dhrink tay out av chiny in the +drrrrawin'-room, an' thin we'll dhrink like Christians undher the tree +here. Scutt, ye naygur-folk! There's a Sahib come to call on me, an' +that's more than he'll iver do for you onless you run! Get out, an' go +on pilin' up the earth, quick, till sundown." + + +When we three were comfortably settled under the big sisham in front of +the bungalow, and the first rush of questions and answers about Privates +Ortheris and Learoyd and old times and places had died away, Mulvaney +said, reflectively--"Glory be, there's no p'rade to-morrow, an' no +bun-headed Corp'ril-bhoy to give you his lip. An' yit I don't know. 'Tis +harrd to be something ye niver were an' niver meant to be, an' all the +ould days shut up along wid your papers. Eyah! I'm growin' rusty, an' +'tis the will av God that a man mustn't serve his Quane for time an' +all." + +He helped himself to a fresh peg, and sighed furiously. + +"Let your beard grow, Mulvaney," said I, "and then you won't be troubled +with those notions. You'll be a real civilian." + +Dinah Shadd had told me in the drawing-room of her desire to coax +Mulvaney into letting his beard grow. "'Twas so civilian-like," said +poor Dinah, who hated her husband's hankering for his old life. + +"Dinah Shadd, you're a dishgrace to an honust, clane-scraped man!" +said Mulvaney, without replying to me. "Grow a beard on your own chin, +darlint, and lave my razors alone. They're all that stand betune me +and dis-ris-pect-ability. Av I didn't shave, I wud be torminted wid an +outrajis thurrst; for there's nothin' so dhryin' to the throat as a +big billy-goat beard waggin' undher the chin. Ye wudn't have me dhrink +always, Dinah Shadd'? By the same token, you're kapin' me crool dhry +now. Let me look at that whiskey." + +The whiskey was lent and returned, but Dinah Shadd, who had been just as +eager as her husband in asking after old friends, rent me with-- + +"I take shame for you, Sorr, coming down here though the Saints know +you're as welkim as the daylight whin you do come--an' upsettin' +Terence's head wid your nonsense about--about fwhat's much betther +forgotten. He bein' a civilian now, an' you niver was aught else. Can +you not let the Arrmy rest? 'Tis not good for Terence." + +I took refuge by Mulvaney, for Dinah Shadd has a temper of her own. + +"Let be--let be," said Mulvaney. "'Tis only wanst in a way I can talk +about the ould days." Then to me--"Ye say Dhrumshticks is well, an' his +lady tu'? I niver knew how I liked the gray garron till I was shut +av him an' Asia."--"Dhrumshticks" was the nickname of the Colonel +commanding Mulvaney's old regiment.--"Will you be seein' him again? You +will. Thin tell him"--Mulvaney's eyes began to twinkle--"tell him wid +Privit--" + +"Mister, Terence," interrupted Dinah Shadd. "Now the Divil an' all his +angils an' the Firmament av Hiven fly away wid the 'Mister,' an' the sin +av makin' me swear be on your confession, Dinah Shadd! Privit, I tell +ye. Wid Privit Mulvaney's best obedience, that but for me the last +time-expired wud be still pullin' hair on their way to the sea." + +He threw himself back in the chair, chuckled, and was silent. + +"Mrs. Mulvaney," I said, "please take up the whiskey, and don't let him +have it until he has told the story." + +Dinah Shadd dexterously whipped the bottle away, saying at the same +time, "'Tis nothing to be proud av," and thus captured by the enemy, +Mulvaney spake:-- + +"'Twas on Chuseday week. I was behaderin' round wid the gangs on +the 'bankmint--I've taught the hoppers how to kape step an' stop +screechin'--whin a head-gangman comes up to me, wid about two inches av +shirt-tail hanging round his neck an' a disthressful light in his oi. +'Sahib,' sez he, 'there's a reg'mint an' a half av soldiers up at the +junction, knockin' red cinders out av ivrything an' ivrybody! They +thried to hang me in my cloth,' he sez, 'an' there will be murdher an' +ruin an' rape in the place before nightfall! They say they're comin' +down here to wake us up. What will we do wid our women-folk?' + +"'Fetch my throlly!' sez I; 'my heart's sick in my ribs for a wink at +anything wid the Quane's uniform on ut. Fetch my throlly, an' six av the +jildiest men, and run me up in shtyle.'" + +"He tuk his best coat," said Dinah Shadd, reproachfully. + +"'Twas to do honour to the Widdy. I cud ha' done no less, Dinah Shadd. +You and your digresshins interfere wid the coorse av the narrative. Have +you iver considhered fwhat I wud look like wid me head shaved as well as +me chin? You bear that in your mind, Dinah darlin'. + +"I was throllied up six miles, all to get a shquint at that draf'. +I knew 'twas a spring draf' goin' home, for there's no rig'mint +hereabouts, more's the pity." + +"Praise the Virgin!" murmured Dinah Shadd. But Mulvaney did not hear. + +"Whin I was about three-quarters av a mile off the rest-camp, powtherin' +along fit to burrst, I heard the noise av the men, an', on my sowl, +Sorr, I cud catch the voice av Peg Barney bellowin' like a bison wid the +belly-ache. You remimber Peg Barney that was in D Comp'ny--a red, hairy +scraun, wid a scar on his jaw? Peg Barney that cleared out the Blue +Lights' Jubilee meetin' wid the cook-room mop last year? + +"Thin I knew ut was a draf' av the Ould Rig'mint, an' I was conshumed +wid sorrow for the bhoy that was in charge. We was harrd scrapin's at +any time. Did I iver tell you how Horker Kelley wint into clink nakid as +Phoebus Apollonius, wid the shirts av the Corp'ril an' file undher his +arrum? An' he was a moild man! But I'm digresshin'. 'Tis a shame both +to the rig'mints and the Arrmy sendin' down little orf'cer bhoys wid +a draf' av strong men mad wid liquor an' the chanst av gettin' shut av +India, an' niver a punishment that's fit to be given right down an' away +from cantonmints to the dock! 'Tis this nonsinse. Whin I am servin' my +time, I'm undher the Articles av War, an' can be whipped on the peg for +thim. But whin I've served my time, I'm a Reserve man, an' the Articles +av War haven't any hould on me. An orf'cer can't do anythin' to a +time-expired savin' confinin' him to barricks. 'Tis a wise rig'lation, +bekaze a time-expired does not have any barricks; bein' on the move +all the time. 'Tis a Solomon av a rig'lation, is that. I wud like to +be inthroduced to the man that made ut. 'Tis easier to get colts from a +Kibbereen horse-fair into Galway than to take a bad draf' over ten miles +av counthry. Consiquintly that rig'lation--for fear that the men wud be +hurt by the little orf'cer bhoy. No matther. The nearer my throlly came +to the rest-camp, the woilder was the shine, an' the louder was the +voice of Peg Barney. ''Tis good I am here,' thinks I to mysilf, 'for Peg +alone is employmint for two or three.' He bein', I well knew, as copped +as a dhrover. + +"Faith, that rest-camp was a sight! The tent-ropes was all skew-nosed, +an' the pegs looked as dhrunk as the men--fifty av thim--the scourin's, +an' rinsin's, an' Divil's lavin's av the Ould Rig'mint. I tell you, +Sorr, they were dhrunker than any men you've ever seen in your mortial +life. How does a draf' get dhrunk? How does a frog get fat? They suk ut +in through their shkins. + +"There was Peg Barney sittin' on the groun' in his shirt--wan shoe off +an' wan shoe on--whackin' a tent-peg over the head wid his boot, an' +singin' fit to wake the dead. 'Twas no clane song that he sung, though. +'Twas the Divil's Mass." + +"What's that?" I asked. + +"Whin a bad egg is shut av the Army, he sings the Divil's Mass for +a good riddance; an' that manes swearin' at ivrything from the +Commandher-in-Chief down to the Room-Corp'ril, such as you niver in your +days heard. Some men can swear so as to make green turf crack! Have you +iver heard the Curse in an Orange Lodge? The Divil's Mass is ten times +worse, an' Peg Barney was singin' ut, whackin' the tent-peg on the head +wid his boot for each man that he cursed. A powerful big voice had Peg +Barney, an' a hard swearer he was whin sober. I stood forninst him, an' +'twas not me oi alone that cud tell Peg was dhrunk as a coot. + +"Good mornin', Peg,' I sez, whin he dhrew breath afther dursin' the +Adj'tint-Gen'ral; 'I've put on my best coat to see you, Peg Barney,' sez +I. + +"Thin take Ut off again,' sez Peg Barney, latherin' away wid the boot; +'take ut off an' dance, ye lousy civilian!' + +"Wid that he begins cursin' ould Dhrumshticks, being so full he dane +disrernimbers the Brigade-Major an' the Judge-Advokit-Gen'ral. + +"Do you not know me, Peg?' sez I, though me blood was hot in me wid +being called a civilian." + +"An' him a decent married man!" wailed Dinah Shadd. + +"I do not," sez Peg, "but dhrunk or sober I'll tear the hide off your +back wid a shovel whin I've stopped singin." + +"'Say you so, Peg Barney?' sez I. ''Tis clear as mud you've forgotten +me. I'll assist your autobiography.' Wid that I stretched Peg Barney, +boot an' all, an' wint into the camp. An awful sight ut was! + +"'Where's the orf'cer in charge av the detachment?' sez I to Scrub +Greene--the manest little worm that ever walked. + +"'There's no orf'cer, ye ould cook,' sez Scrub; 'we're a bloomin' +Republic.' + +"'Are you that?' sez I; 'thin I'm O'Connell the Dictator, an' by this +you will larn to kape a civil tongue in your rag-box.' + +"Wid that I stretched Scrub Greene an' wint to the orf'cer's tent. 'Twas +a new little bhoy--not wan I'd iver seen before. He was sittin' in his +tent, purtendin' not to 'ave ear av the racket. + +"I saluted--but for the life av me I mint to shake hands whin I went in. +'Twas the sword hangin' on the tent-pole changed my will. + +"'Can't I help, Sorr?' sez I; ''tis a strong man's job they've given +you, an' you'll be wantin' help by sundown.' He was a bhoy wid bowils, +that child, an' a rale gintleman. + +"'Sit down,' sez he. + +"'Not before my orf'cer,' sez I; an' I tould him fwhat my service was. + +"'I've heard av you,' sez he. 'You tuk the town av Lungtungpen nakid.' + +"'Faith,' thinks I, 'that's Honour an' Glory'; for 'twas Lift'nint +Brazenose did that job. 'I'm wid ye, Sorr,' sez I, 'if I'm av use. They +shud niver ha' sent you down wid the draf'. Savin' your presince, Sorr,' +I sez, ''tis only Lift'nint Hackerston in the Ould Rig'mint can manage a +Home draf'.' + +"'I've niver had charge of men like this before,' sez he, playin' wid +the pens on the table; 'an' I see by the Rig'lations--' + +"'Shut your oi to the Rig'lations, Sorr,' I sez, 'till the throoper's +into blue wather. By the Rig'lations you've got to tuck thim up for the +night, or they'll be runnin' foul av my coolies an' makin' a shiverarium +half through the counthry. Can you trust your noncoms, Sorr?' + +"'Yes,' sez he. + +"'Good,' sez I; 'there'll be throuble before the night. Are you +marchin', Sorr?' + +"'To the next station,' sez he. + +"'Betther still,' sez I; 'there'll be big throuble.' + +"'Can't be too hard on a Home draf,' sez he; 'the great thing is to get +thim in-ship.' + +"'Faith, you've larnt the half av your lesson, Sorr,' sez I, 'but av you +shtick to the Rig'lations you'll niver get thim inship at all, at all. +Or there won't be a rag av kit betune thim whin you do.' + +"'Twas a dear little orf'cer bhoy, an' by way av kapin' his heart up, I +tould him fwhat I saw wanst in a draf in Egypt." + +"What was that, Mulvaney?" said I. + +"Sivin an' fifty men sittin' on the bank av a canal, laughin' at a poor +little squidgereen av an orf'cer that they'd made wade into the slush +an' pitch things out av the boats for their Lord High Mightinesses. That +made me orf'cer bhoy woild wid indignation. + +"'Soft an' aisy, Sorr,' sez I; 'you've niver had your draf' in hannd +since you left cantonmints Wait till the night, an' your work will be +ready to you. Wid your permission, Sorr, I will investigate the camp, +an' talk to me ould frinds. 'Tis no manner av use thryin' to shtop the +divilmint now.' + +"Wid that I wint out into the camp an' inthrojuced mysilf to ivry man +sober enough to remimber me. I was some wan in the ould days, an' the +bhoys was glad to see me--all excipt Peg Barney wid a eye like a tomata +five days in the bazar, an' a nose to match. They come round me an' shuk +me, an' I tould thim I was in privit employ wid an income av me own, +an' a drrrawin'-room fit to bate the Quane's; an' wid me lies an' +me shtories an' nonsinse gin'rally, I kept 'em quiet in wan way an' +another, knockin' roun' the camp. 'Twas bad even thin whin I was the +Angil av Peace. + +"I talked to me ould non-coms--they was sober--an' betune me an' thim +we wore the draf' over into their tents at the proper time. The little +orf'cer bhoy he conies round, dacint an' civil-spoken as might be. + +"'Rough quarthers, men,' sez he, 'but you can't look to be as +comfortable as in barricks. We must make the best av things. I've shut +my eyes to a dale av dog's thricks to-day, an' now there must be no more +av ut.' + +"No more we will. Come an' have a dhrink, me son,' sez Peg Barney, +staggerin' where he stud. Me little orf'cer bhoy kep' his timper. + +"'You're a sulky swine, you are,' sez Peg Barney, an' at that the men in +the tent began to laugh. + +"I tould you me orf'cer bhoy had bowils. He cut Peg Barney as near as +might be on the oi that I'd squshed whin we first met. Peg wint spinnin' +acrost the tent. + +"Peg him out, Sorr,' sez I, in a whishper. + +"Peg him out!' sez me orf'cer bhoy, up loud, just as if 'twas battalion +p'rade an' he pickin' his wurrds from the Sargint. + +"The non-coms tuk Peg Barney--a howlin' handful he was--an' in three +minut's he was pegged out--chin down, tight-dhrawn--on his stummick, a +tent-peg to each arm an' leg, swearin' fit to turn a naygur white. + +"I tuk a peg an'' jammed ut into his ugly jaw--'Bite on that, Peg +Barney,' I sez; 'the night is settin' frosty, an' you'll be wantin' +divarsion before the mornin'. But for the Rig'lations you'd be bitin' on +a bullet now at the thriangles, Peg Barney,' sez I. + +"All the draf' was out av their tents watchin' Barney bein' pegged. + +"''Tis agin the Rig'lations! He strook him!' screeches out Scrub Greene, +who was always a lawyer; an' some of the men tuk up the shoutin'. + +"'Peg out that man!' sez me orf'cer bhoy, niver losin' his timper; an' +the non-coms wint in and pegged out Scrub Greene by the side av Peg +Barney. + +"I cud see that the draf' was comin' roun'. The men stud not knowin' +fwhat to do. + +"'Get to your tents!' sez me orf'cer bhoy. 'Sargint, put a sinthry over +these two men.' + +"The men wint back into the tents like jackals, an' the rest av the +night there was no noise at all excipt the stip av the sinthry over the +two, an' Scrub Greene blubberin' like a child. 'Twas a chilly night, an' +faith, ut sobered Peg Barney. + +"Just before Revelly, me orf'cer bhoy comes out an' sez: 'Loose those +men an' send thim to their tents!' Scrub Greene wint away widout a word, +but Peg Barney, stiff wid the cowld, stud like a sheep, thryin' to make +his orf'cer undherstand he was sorry for playin' the goat. + +"There was no tucker in the draf' whin ut fell in for the march, an' +divil a wurrd about 'illegality' cud I hear. + +"I wint to the ould Colour-Sargint and I sez:--'Let me die in glory,' +sez I. 'I've seen a man this day!' + +"'A man he is,' sez ould Hother; 'the draf's as sick as a herrin'. +They'll all go down to the sea like lambs. That bhoy has the bowils av a +cantonmint av Gin'rals.' + +"'Amin,' sez I, 'an' good luck go wid him, wheriver he be, by land or by +sea. Let me know how the draf' gets clear.' + +"An' do you know how they did? That bhoy, so I was tould by letter from +Bombay, bully-damned 'em down to the dock, till they cudn't call their +sowls their own. From the time they left me oi till they was 'tween +decks, not wan av thim was more than dacintly dhrunk. An' by the Holy +Articles av War, whin they wint aboord they cheered him till they cudn't +spake, an' that, mark you, has not come about wid a draf' in the mlm'ry +av livin' man! You look to that little orf'cer bhoy. He has bowils. 'Tis +not ivry child that wud chuck the Rig'lations to Flanders an' stretch +Peg Barney on a wink from a brokin an' dilapidated ould carkiss like +mysilf. I'd be proud to serve--" + +"Terence, you're a civilian," said Dinah Shadd warningly. + +"So I am--so I am. Is ut likely I wud forget ut? But he was a gran' bhoy +all the same, an' I'm only a mudtipper wid a hod on me shoulthers. +The whiskey's in the heel av your hand, Sorr. Wid your good lave we'll +dhrink to the Ould Rig'mint--three fingers--standin' up!" And we drank. + + + + +THE MUTINEY OF THE MAVERICKS + +Sec. 7 (1)--Causing or Conspiring with other persons to cause a mutiny +or sedition in forces belonging to Her Majesty's Regular forces, Reserve +forces, Auxiliary forces, or Navy. + +When three obscure gentlemen in San Francisco argued on insufficient +premises they condemned a fellow-creature to a most unpleasant death in +a far country which had nothing whatever to do with the United States. +They foregathered at the top of a tenement-house in Tehama Street, an +unsavoury quarter of the city, and, there calling for certain drinks, +they conspired because they were conspirators by trade, officially known +as the Third Three of the I. A. A.--an institution for the propagation +of pure light, not to be confounded with any others, though it is +affiliated to many. The Second Three live in Montreal, and work among +the poor there; the First Three have their home in New York, not far +from Castle Garden, and write regularly once a week to a small house +near one of the big hotels at Boulogne. What happens after that, a +particular section of Scotland Yard knows too well and laughs at. A +conspirator detests ridicule. More men have been stabbed with Lucrezia +Borgia daggers and dropped into the Thames for laughing at Head Centres +and Triangles than for betraying secrets; for this is human nature. + +The Third Three conspired over whiskey cocktails and a clean sheet of +note-paper against the British Empire and all that lay therein. This +work is very like what men without discernment call politics before a +general election. You pick out and discuss, in the company of congenial +friends, all the weak points in your opponents' organisation, and +unconsciously dwell upon and exaggerate all their mishaps, till it seems +to you a miracle that the hated party holds together for an hour. + +"Our principle is not so much active demonstration--that we leave to +others--as passive embarrassment, to weaken and unnerve," said the first +man. "Wherever an organisation is crippled, wherever confusion is thrown +into any branch of any department, we gain a step for those who take on +the work; we are but the forerunners." He was a German enthusiast, and +editor of a newspaper, from whose leading articles he quoted frequently. + +"That cursed Empire makes so many blunders of her own that unless we +doubled the year's average I guess it wouldn't strike her anything +special had occurred," said the second man. "Are you prepared to +say that all our resources are equal to blowing off the muzzle of a +hundred-ton gun or spiking a ten-thousand-ton ship on a plain rock in +clear daylight? They can beat us at our own game. Better join hands +with the practical branches; we're in funds now. Try a direct scare in a +crowded street. They value their greasy hides." He was the drag upon the +wheel, and an Americanised Irishman of the second generation, despising +his own race and hating the other. He had learned caution. + +The third man drank his cocktail and spoke no word. He was the +strategist, but unfortunately his knowledge of life was limited. He +picked a letter from his breast-pocket and threw it across the table. +That epistle to the heathen contained some very concise directions from +the First Three in New York. It said-- + +"The boom in black iron has already affected the eastern markets, where +our agents have been forcing down the English-held stock among the +smaller buyers who watch the turn of shares. Any immediate operations, +such as western bears, would increase their willingness to unload. +This, however, cannot be expected till they see clearly that foreign +iron-masters are willing to co-operate. Mulcahy should be dispatched +to feel the pulse of the market, and act accordingly. Mavericks are at +present the best for our purpose.--P. D. Q." + +As a message referring to an iron crisis in Pennsylvania, it was +interesting, if not lucid. As a new departure in organized attack on an +outlying English dependency, it was more than interesting. + +The second man read it through and murmured--"Already? Surely they are +in too great a hurry. All that Dhulip Singh could do in India he has +done, down to the distribution of his photographs among the peasantry. +Ho! Ho! The Paris firm arranged that, and he has no substantial money +backing from the Other Power. Even our agents in India know he hasn't. +What is the use of our organisation wasting men on work that is already +done? Of course the Irish regiments in India are half mutinous as they +stand." + +This shows how near a lie may come to the truth. An Irish regiment, for +just so long as it stands still, is generally a hard handful to control, +being reckless and rough. When, however, it is moved in the direction of +musketry-firing, it becomes strangely and unpatriotically content with +its lot. It has even been heard to cheer the Queen with enthusiasm on +these occasions. + +But the notion of tampering with the army was, from the point of view of +Tehama Street, an altogether sound one. There is no shadow of stability +in the policy of an English Government, and the most sacred oaths of +England would, even if engrossed on vellum, find very few buyers among +colonies and dependencies that have suffered from vain beliefs. But +there remains to England always her army. That cannot change except +in the matter of uniform and equipment. The officers may write to the +papers demanding the heads of the Horse Guards in default of cleaner +redress for grievances; the men may break loose across a country town +and seriously startle the publicans; but neither officers nor men have +it in their composition to mutiny after the continental manner. The +English people, when they trouble to think about the army at all, are, +and with justice, absolutely assured that it is absolutely trustworthy. +Imagine for a moment their emotions on realising that such and such +a regiment was in open revolt from causes directly due to England's +management of Ireland. They would probably send the regiment to the +polls forthwith and examine their own consciences as to their duty to +Erin; but they would never be easy any more. And it was this vague, +unhappy mistrust that the I. A. A. were labouring to produce. + +"Sheer waste of breath," said the second man after a pause in the +council. "I don't see the use of tampering with their fool-army, but +it has been tried before and we must try it again. It looks well in the +reports. If we send one man from here you may bet your life that other +men are going too. Order up Mulcahy." + +They ordered him up--a slim, slight, dark-haired young man, devoured +with that blind rancorous hatred of England that only reaches its full +growth across the Atlantic. He had sucked it from his mother's breast in +the little cabin at the back of the northern avenues of New York; he had +been taught his rights and his wrongs, in German and Irish, on the canal +fronts of Chicago; and San Francisco held men who told him strange and +awful things of the great blind power over the seas. Once, when business +took him across the Atlantic, he had served in an English regiment, and +being insubordinate had suffered extremely. He drew all his ideas of +England that were not bred by the cheaper patriotic prints from one +iron-fisted colonel and an unbending adjutant. He would go to the +mines if need be to teach his gospel. And he went, as his instructions +advised, p. d. q.--which means "with speed"--to introduce embarrassment +into an Irish regiment, "already half-mutinous, quartered among Sikh +peasantry, all wearing miniatures of His Highness Dhulip Singh, +Maharaja of the Punjab, next their hearts, and all eagerly expecting +his arrival." Other information equally valuable was given him by his +masters. He was to be cautious, but never to grudge expense in winning +the hearts of the men in the regiment. His mother in New York would +supply funds, and he was to write to her once a month. Life is pleasant +for a man who has a mother in New York to send him two hundred pounds a +year over and above his regimental pay. + +In process of time, thanks to his intimate knowledge of drill and +musketry exercise, the excellent Mulcahy, wearing the corporal's stripe, +went out in a troopship and joined Her Majesty's Royal Loyal Musketeers, +commonly known as the "Mavericks," because they were masterless and +unbranded cattle--sons of small farmers in County Clare, shoeless +vagabonds of Kerry, herders of Ballyvegan, much wanted "moonlighters" +from the bare rainy headlands of the south coast, officered by O'Mores, +Bradys, Hills, Kilreas, and the like. Never to outward seeming was there +more promising material to work on. The First Three had chosen their +regiment well. It feared nothing that moved or talked save the colonel +and the regimental Roman Catholic chaplain, the fat Father Dennis, who +held the keys of heaven and hell, and blared like an angry bull when +he desired to be convincing. Him also it loved because on occasions of +stress he was used to tuck up his cassock and charge with the rest into +the merriest of the fray, where he always found, good man, that the +saints sent him a revolver when there was a fallen private to be +protected, or--but this came as an afterthought his own gray head to be +guarded. + +Cautiously as he had been instructed, tenderly and with much beer, +Mulcahy opened his projects to such as he deemed fittest to listen. +And these were, one and all, of that quaint, crooked, sweet, profoundly +irresponsible and profoundly lovable race that fight like fiends, argue +like children, reason like women, obey like men, and jest like their own +goblins of the rath through rebellion, loyalty, want, woe, or war. The +underground work of a conspiracy is always dull and very much the same +the world over. At the end of six months--the seed always falling on +good ground--Mulcahy spoke almost explicitly, hinting darkly in the +approved fashion at dread powers behind him, and advising nothing more +nor less than mutiny. Were they not dogs, evilly treated? had they not +all their own and their national revenges to satisfy? Who in these days +would do aught to nine hundred men in rebellion? Who, again, could stay +them if they broke for the sea, licking up on their way other regiments +only too anxious to join? And afterwards... here followed windy promises +of gold and preferment, office and honour, ever dear to a certain type +of Irishman. + +As he finished his speech, in the dusk of a twilight, to his chosen +associates, there was a sound of a rapidly unslung belt behind him. The +arm of one Dan Grady flew out in the gloom and arrested something. Then +said Dan-- + +"Mulcahy, you're a great man, an' you do credit to whoever sent you. +Walk about a bit while we think of it." Mulcahy departed elate. He knew +his words would sink deep. + +"Why the triple-dashed asterisks did ye not let me belt him'?" grunted a +voice. + +"Because I'm not a fat-headed fool. Boys, 'tis what he's been driving +at these six months--our superior corp'ril with his education and his +copies of the Irish papers and his everlasting beer. He's been sent for +the purpose, and that's where the money comes from. Can ye not see? That +man's a gold-mine, which Horse Egan here would have destroyed with a +belt-buckle. It would be throwing away the gifts of Providence not to +fall in with his little plans. Of coorse we'll mut'ny till all's dry. +Shoot the colonel on the parade-ground, massacree the company officers, +ransack the arsenal, and then--Boys, did he tell you what next? He told +me the other night when he was beginning to talk wild. Then we're to +join with the niggers, and look for help from Dhulip Singh and the +Russians!" + +"And spoil the best campaign that ever was this side of Hell! Danny, I'd +have lost the beer to ha' given him the belting he requires." + +"Oh, let him go this awhile, man! He's got no--no constructiveness, but +that's the egg-meat of his plan, and you must understand that I'm +in with it, an' so are you. We'll want oceans of beer to convince +us--firmaments full. We'll give him talk for his money, and one by one +all the boys'll come in and he'll have a nest of nine hundred mutineers +to squat in an' give drink to." + +"What makes me killing-mad is his wanting us to do what the niggers +did thirty years gone. That an' his pig's cheek in saying that other +regiments would come along," said a Kerry man. + +"That's not so bad as hintin' we should loose off on the colonel." + +"Colonel be sugared! I'd as soon as not put a shot through his helmet +to see him jump and clutch his old horse's head. But Mulcahy talks o' +shootin' our comp'ny orf'cers accidental." + +"He said that, did he?" said Horse Egan. + +"Somethin' like that, anyways. Can't ye fancy ould Barber Brady wid a +bullet in his lungs, coughin' like a sick monkey, an' sayin', 'Bhoys, +I do not mind your gettin' dhrunk, but you must hould your liquor like +men. The man that shot me is dhrunk. I'll suspend investigations for six +hours, while I get this bullet cut out, and then--'" + +"'An' then," continued Horse Egan, for the peppery Major's peculiarities +of speech and manner were as well known as his tanned face; "'an' then, +ye dissolute, half-baked, putty-faced scum o' Connemara, if I find a +man so much as lookin' confused, begad, I'll coort-martial the whole +company. A man that can't get over his liquor in six hours is not fit to +belong to the Mavericks!'" + +A shout of laughter bore witness to the truth of the sketch. + +"It's pretty to think of," said the Kerry man slowly. "Mulcahy would +have us do all the devilmint, and get clear himself, someways. He wudn't +be takin' all this fool's throuble in shpoilin' the reputation of the +regimint--" + +"Reputation of your grandmother's pig!" said Dan. + +"Well, an' he had a good reputation tu; so it's all right. Mulcahy +must see his way to clear out behind him, or he'd not ha' come so far, +talkin' powers of darkness." + +"Did you hear anything of a regimental coortmartial among the Black +Boneens, these days? Half a company of 'em took one of the new draft +an' hanged him by his arms with a tent-rope from a third-story verandah. +They gave no reason for so doin', but he was half dead. I'm thinking +that the Boneens are short-sighted. It was a friend of Mulcahy's, or +a man in the same trade. They'd a deal better ha' taken his beer," +returned Dan reflectively. + +"Better still ha' handed him up to the Colonel," said Horse Egan, +"onless--but sure the news wud be all over the counthry an' give the +reg'ment a bad name." + +"An' there'd be no reward for that man--he but went about talkin'," said +the Kerry man artlessly. + +"You speak by your breed," said Dan, with a laugh. "There was never a +Kerry man yet that wudn't sell his brother for a pipe o' tobacco an' a +pat on the back from a p'liceman." + +"Praise God I'm not a bloomin' Orangeman," was the answer. + +"No, nor never will be," said Dan. "They breed men in Ulster. Would you +like to thry the taste of one?" + +The Kerry man looked and longed, but forbore. The odds of battle were +too great. "Then you'll not even give Mulcahy a--a strike for his +money," said the voice of Horse Egan, who regarded what he called +"trouble" of any kind as the pinnacle of felicity. + +Dan answered not at all, but crept on tip-toe, with long strides, to +the mess-room, the men following. The room was empty. In a corner, cased +like the King of Dahomey's state umbrella, stood the regimental Colours. +Dan lifted them tenderly and unrolled in the light of the candles the +record of the Mavericks--tattered, worn, and hacked. The white satin +was darkened everywhere with big brown stains, the gold threads on the +crowned harp were frayed and discoloured, and the Red Bull, the totem +of the Mavericks, was coffee-hued. The stiff, embroidered folds, whose +price is human life, rustled down slowly. The Mavericks keep their +colours long and guard them very sacredly. + +"Vittoria, Salamanca, Toulouse, Waterloo, Moodkee, Ferozshah, an' +Sobraon--that was fought close next door here, against the very beggars +he wants us to join. Inkerman, The Alma, Sebastopol! 'What are those +little businesses compared to the campaigns of General Mulcahy? The +Mut'ny, think o' that; the Mut'ny an' some dirty little matters in +Afghanistan; an' for that an' these an' those"--Dan pointed to the names +of glorious battles--"that Yankee man with the partin' in his hair comes +an' says as easy as 'have a drink'... Holy Moses, there's the captain!" + +But it was the mess-sergeant who came in just as the men clattered out, +and found the colours uncased. + +From that day dated the mutiny of the Mavericks, to the joy of Mulcahy +and the pride of his mother in New York--the good lady who sent the +money for the beer. Never, so far as words went, was such a mutiny. The +conspirators, led by Dan Grady and Horse Egan, poured in daily. They +were sound men, men to be trusted, and they all wanted blood; but first +they must have beer. They cursed the Queen, they mourned over Ireland, +they suggested hideous plunder of the Indian country-side, and then, +alas--some of the younger men would go forth and wallow on the ground +in spasms of wicked laughter The genius of the Irish for conspiracies is +remarkable. None the less they would swear no oaths but those of their +own making, which were rare and curious, and they were always at pains +to impress Mulcahy with the risks they ran. Naturally the flood of beer +wrought demoralisation. But Mulcahy confused the causes of things, and +when a very muzzy Maverick smote a sergeant on the nose or called his +commanding officer a bald-headed old lard-bladder and even worse +names, he fancied that rebellion and not liquor was at the bottom of +the outbreak. Other gentlemen who have concerned themselves in larger +conspiracies have made the same error. + +The hot season, in which they protested no man could rebel, came to an +end, and Mulcahy suggested a visible return for his teachings. As to the +actual upshot of the mutiny he cared nothing. It would be enough if the +English, infatuatedly trusting to the integrity of their army, should +be startled with news of an Irish regiment revolting from political +considerations. His persistent demands would have ended, at Dan's +instigation, in a regimental belting which in all probability would +have killed him and cut off the supply of beer, had not he been sent on +special duty some fifty miles away from the Cantonment to cool his heels +in a mud fort and dismount obsolete artillery. Then the colonel of +the Mavericks, reading his newspaper diligently, and scenting Frontier +trouble from afar, posted to the army headquarters and pled with the +Commander-in-chief for certain privileges, to be granted under certain +contingencies; which contingencies came about only a week later, when +the annual little war on the border developed itself and the colonel +returned to carry the good news to the Mavericks. He held the promise of +the Chief for active service, and the men must get ready. + +On the evening of the same day, Mulcahy, an unconsidered corporal--yet +great in conspiracy--returned to cantonments, and heard sounds of strife +and howlings from afar off. The mutiny had broken out and the barracks +of the Mavericks were one white-washed pandemonium. A private tearing +through the barrack-square, gasped in his ear, "Service! Active service. +It's a burnin' shame." Oh joy, the Mavericks had risen on the eve of +battle! They would not--noble and loyal sons of Ireland--serve the +Queen longer. The news would flash through the country-side and over to +England, and he--Mulcahy--the trusted of the Third Three, had brought +about the crash. The private stood in the middle of the square and +cursed colonel, regiment, officers, and doctor, particularly the doctor, +by his gods. An orderly of the native cavalry regiment clattered through +the mob of soldiers. He was half lifted, half dragged from his horse, +beaten on the back with mighty hand-claps till his eyes watered, and +called all manner of endearing names. Yes, the Mavericks had fraternized +with the native troops. Who then was the agent among the latter that had +blindly wrought with Mulcahy so well? + +An officer slunk, almost ran, from the mess to a barrack. He was mobbed +by the infuriated soldiery, who closed round but did not kill him, for +he fought his way to shelter, flying for the life. Mulcahy could +have wept with pure joy and thankfulness. The very prisoners in the +guard-room were shaking the bars of their cells and howling like wild +beasts, and from every barrack poured the booming as of a big war-drum. + +Mulcahy hastened to his own barrack. He could hardly hear himself +speak. Eighty men were pounding with fist and heel the tables and +trestles--eighty men, flushed with mutiny, stripped to their shirt +sleeves, their knapsacks half-packed for the march to the sea, made the +two-inch boards thunder again as they chanted, to a tune that Mulcahy +knew well, the Sacred War Song of the Mavericks-- + + Listen in the north, my boys, there's trouble on the wind; + Tramp o' Cossack hooves in front, gray great-coats behind, + Trouble on the Frontier of a most amazin' kind, + Trouble on the waters o' the Oxus! + +Then, as the table broke under the furious accompaniment-- + + Hurrah! hurrah! it's north by west we go; + Hurrah! hurrah! the chance we wanted so; + Let 'em hear the chorus from Umballa to Moscow, + As we go marchin' to the Kremling. + +"Mother of all the saints in bliss and all the devils in cinders, +where's my fine new sock widout the heel?" howled Horse Egan, ransacking +everybody's valise but his own. He was engaged in making up deficiencies +of kit preparatory to a campaign, and in that work he steals best who +steals last. "Ah, Mulcahy, you're in good time," he shouted, "We've got +the route, and we're off on Thursday for a pic-nic wid the Lancers next +door." + +An ambulance orderly appeared with a huge basket full of lint rolls, +provided by the forethought of the Queen for such as might need +them later on. Horse Egan unrolled his bandage, and flicked it under +Mulcahy's nose, chanting-- + + "Sheepskin an' bees' wax, thunder, pitch, and plaster, + The more you try to pull it off, the more it sticks the faster. + As I was goin' to New Orleans-- + +"You know the rest of it, my Irish American-Jew boy. By gad, ye have to +fight for the Queen in the inside av a fortnight, my darlin." + +A roar of laughter interrupted. Mulcahy looked vacantly down the room. +Bid a boy defy his father when the pantomime-cab is at the door, or +a girl develop a will of her own when her mother is putting the last +touches to the first ball-dress, but do not ask an Irish regiment to +embark upon mutiny on the eve of a campaign, when it has fraternised +with the native regiment that accompanies it, and driven its officers +into retirement with ten thousand clamorous questions, and the prisoners +dance for joy, and the sick men stand in the open calling down all known +diseases on the head of the doctor, who has certified that they are +"medically unfit for active service." At even the Mavericks might have +been mistaken for mutineers by one so unversed in their natures as +Mulcahy. At dawn a girls' school might have learned deportment from +them. They knew that their colonel's hand had closed, and that he who +broke that iron discipline would not go to the front: nothing in the +world will persuade one of our soldiers, when he is ordered to the north +on the smallest of affairs, that he is not immediately going gloriously +to slay Cossacks and cook his kettles in the palace of the Czar. A few +of the younger men mourned for Mulcahy's beer, because the campaign was +to be conducted on strict temperance principles, but as Dan and Horse +Egan said sternly, "We've got the beer-man with us. He shall drink now +on his own hook." + +Mulcahy had not taken into account the possibility of being sent on +active service. He had made up his mind that he would not go under any +circumstances, but fortune was against him. + +"Sick-you?" said the doctor, who had served an unholy apprenticeship +to his trade in Tralee poorhouses. "You're only home-sick, and what you +call varicose veins come from over-eating. A little gentle exercise will +cure that." And later, "Mulcahy, my man, everybody is allowed to apply +for a sick-certificate once. If he tries it twice we call him by an ugly +name. Go back to your duty, and let's hear no more of your diseases." + +I am ashamed to say that Horse Egan enjoyed the study of Mulcahy's +soul in those days, and Dan took an equal interest. Together they would +communicate to their corporal all the dark lore of death which is the +portion of those who have seen men die. Egan had the larger experience, +but Dan the finer imagination. Mulcahy shivered when the former spoke of +the knife as an intimate acquaintance, or the latter dwelt with loving +particularity on the fate of those who, wounded and helpless, had been +overlooked by the ambulances, and had fallen into the hands of the +Afghan women-folk. + +Mulcahy knew that the mutiny, for the present at least, was dead; knew, +too, that a change had come over Dan's usually respectful attitude +towards him, and Horse Egan's laughter and frequent allusions to +abortive conspiracies emphasised all that the conspirator had guessed. +The horrible fascination of the death-stories, however, made him seek +the men's society. He learned much more than he had bargained for; and +in this manner. It was on the last night before the regiment entrained +to the front. The barracks were stripped of everything movable, and the +men were too excited to sleep. The bare walls gave out a heavy hospital +smell of chloride of lime. + +"And what," said Mulcahy in an awe-stricken whisper, after some +conversation on the eternal subject, "are you going to do to me, Dan?" +This might have been the language of an able conspirator conciliating a +weak spirit. + +"You'll see," said Dan grimly, turning over in his cot, "or I rather +shud say you'll not see." + +This was hardly the language of a weak spirit. Mulcahy shook under the +bed-clothes. + +"Be easy with him," put in Egan from the next cot. "He has got his +chanst o' goin' clean. Listen, Mulcahy, all we want is for the good sake +of the regiment that you take your death standing up, as a man shud. +There's be heaps an' heaps of enemy--plenshus heaps. Go there an' do all +you can and die decent. You'll die with a good name there. 'Tis not a +hard thing considerin'." + +Again Mulcahy shivered. + +"An' how could a man wish to die better than fightin'?" added Dan +consolingly. + +"And if I won't?" said the corporal in a dry whisper. + +"There'll be a dale of smoke," returned Dan, sitting up and ticking off +the situation on his fingers, "sure to be, an' the noise of the firin'll +be tremenjus, an' we'll be running about up and down, the regiment will. +But we, Horse and I--we'll stay by you, Mulcahy, and never let you go. +Maybe there'll be an accident." + +"It's playing it low on me. Let me go. For pity's sake, let me go. I +never did you harm, and--and I stood you as much beer as I could. Oh, +don't be hard on me, Dan! You are--you were in it too. You won't kill me +up there, will you?" + +"I'm not thinkin' of the treason; though you shud be glad any honest +boys drank with you. It's for the regiment. We can't have the shame o' +you bringin' shame on us. You went to the doctor quiet as a sick cat +to get and stay behind an' live with the women at the depot--you that +wanted us to run to the sea in wolf-packs like the rebels none of your +black blood dared to be! But we knew about your goin' to the doctor, for +he told in mess, and it's all over the regiment. Bein', as we are, your +best friends, we didn't allow any one to molest you yet. We will see to +you ourselves. Fight which you will--us or the enemy you'll never lie +in that cot again, and there's more glory and maybe less kicks from +fightin' the enemy. That's fair speakin'." + +"And he told us by word of mouth to go and join with the niggers--you've +forgotten that, Dan," said Horse Egan, to justify sentence. + +"What's the use of plaguin' the man? One shot pays for all. Sleep ye +sound, Mulcahy. But you onderstand, do ye not?" + +Mulcahy for some weeks understood very little of anything at all save +that ever at his elbow, in camp or at parade, stood two big men with +soft voices adjuring him to commit hari-kari lest a worse thing should +happen--to die for the honour of the regiment in decency among the +nearest knives. But Mulcahy dreaded death. He remembered certain things +that priests had said in his infancy, and his mother--not the one at New +York--starting from her sleep with shrieks to pray for a husband's soul +in torment. It is well to be of a cultured intelligence, but in time +of trouble the weak human mind returns to the creed it sucked in at the +breast, and if that creed be not a pretty one trouble follows. Also, +the death he would have to face would be physically painful. Most +conspirators have large imaginations. Mulcahy could see himself, as he +lay on the earth in the night, dying by various causes. They were all +horrible; the mother in New York was very far away, and the Regiment, +the engine that, once you fall in its grip, moves you forward whether +you will or won't, was daily coming closer to the enemy! + +They were brought to the field of Marzun Katai, and with the Black +Boneens to aid, they fought a fight that has never been set down in the +newspapers. In response, many believe, to the fervent prayers of Father +Dennis, the enemy not only elected to fight in the open, but made a +beautiful fight, as many weeping Irish mothers knew later. They gathered +behind walls or flickered across the open in shouting masses, and were +pot-valiant in artillery. It was expedient to hold a large reserve +and wait for the psychological moment that was being prepared by the +shrieking shrapnel. Therefore the Mavericks lay down in open order on +the brow of a hill to watch the play till their call should come. +Father Dennis, whose duty was in the rear, to smooth the trouble of the +wounded, had naturally managed to make his way to the foremost of his +boys, and lay like a black porpoise, at length on the grass. To him +crawled Mulcahy, ashen-gray, demanding absolution. + +"'Wait till you're shot," said Father Dennis sweetly. "There's a time +for everything." + +Dan Grady chuckled as he blew for the fiftieth time into the breech of +his speckless rifle. Mulcahy groaned and buried his head in his arms +till a stray shot spoke like a snipe immediately above his head, and a +general heave and tremour rippled the line. Other shots followed and a +few took effect, as a shriek or a grunt attested. The officers, who had +been lying down with the men, rose and began to walk steadily up and +down the front of their companies. + +This manoeuvre, executed, not for publication, but as a guarantee of +good faith, to soothe men, demands nerve. You must not hurry, you must +not look nervous, though you know that you are a mark for every rifle +within extreme range, and above all if you are smitten you must make as +little noise as possible and roll inwards through the files. It is at +this hour, when the breeze brings the first salt whiff of the powder +to noses rather cold at the tip, and the eye can quietly take in the +appearance of each red casualty, that the strain on the nerves is +strongest. Scotch regiments can endure for half a day and abate no +whit of their zeal at the end; English regiments sometimes sulk under +punishment, while the Irish, like the French, are apt to run forward +by ones and twos, which is just as bad as running back. The truly wise +commandant of highly-strung troops allows them, in seasons of waiting, +to hear the sound of their own voices uplifted in song. There is a +legend of an English regiment that lay by its arms under fire chaunting +"Sam Hall," to the horror of its newly appointed and pious colonel. The +Black Boneens, who were suffering more than the Mavericks, on a hill +half a mile away, began presently to explain to all who cared to +listen-- + + We'll sound the jubilee, from the centre to the sea, + And Ireland shall be free, says the Shan-van Vogh. + +"Sing, boys," said Father Dennis softly. "It looks as if we cared for +their Afghan peas." + +Dan Grady raised himself to his knees and opened his mouth in a song +imparted to him, as to most of his comrades, in the strictest confidence +by Mulcahy--that Mulcahy then lying limp and fainting on the grass, the +chill fear of death upon him. + +Company after company caught up the words which, the I. A. A. say, are +to herald the general rising of Erin, and to breathe which, except to +those duly appointed to hear, is death. Wherefore they are printed in +this place. + + The Saxon in Heaven's just balance is weighed, + His doom like Belshazzar's in death has been cast, + And the hand of the venger shall never be stayed + Till his race, faith, and speech are a dream of the past. + +They were heart-filling lines and they ran with a swirl; the I. A. A. +are better served by their pens than their petards. Dan clapped Mulcahy +merrily on the back, asking him to sing up. The officers lay down again. +There was no need to walk any more. Their men were soothing themselves +thunderously, thus-- + + St. Mary in Heaven has written the vow + That the land shall not rest till the heretic blood, + From the babe at the breast to the hand at the plough, + Has rolled to the ocean like Shannon in flood! + +"I'll speak to you after all's over," said Father Dennis authoritatively +in Dan's ear. "What's the use of confessing to me when you do this +foolishness? Dan, you've been playing with fire! I'll lay you more +penance in a week than--" + +"Come along to Purgatory with us, Father dear. The Boneens are on the +move; they'll let us go now!" + +The regiment rose to the blast of the bugle as one man; but one man +there was who rose more swiftly than all the others, for half an inch of +bayonet was in the fleshy part of his leg. + +"You've got to do it," said Dan grimly. "Do it decent, anyhow;" and +the roar of the rush drowned his words, for the rear companies thrust +forward the first, still singing as they swung down the slope-- + + From the child at the breast to the hand at the plough + Shall roll to the ocean like Shannon in flood! + +They should have sung it in the face of England, not of the Afghans, +whom it impressed as much as did the wild Irish yell. + +"They came down singing," said the unofficial report of the enemy, borne +from village to village the next day. "They continued to sing, and it +was written that our men could not abide when they came. It is believed +that there was magic in the aforesaid song." + +Dan and Horse Egan kept themselves in the neighbourhood of Mulcahy. +Twice the man would have bolted back in the confusion. Twice he was +heaved, kicked, and shouldered back again into the unpaintable inferno +of a hotly contested charge. + +At the end, the panic excess of his fear drove him into madness beyond +all human courage. His eyes staring at nothing, his mouth open and +frothing, and breathing as one in a cold bath, he went forward demented, +while Dan toiled after him. The charge checked at a high mud wall. It +was Mulcahy who scrambled up tooth and nail and hurled down among the +bayonets the amazed Afghan who barred his way. It was Mulcahy, keeping +to the straight line of the rabid dog, who led a collection of ardent +souls at a newly unmasked battery and flung himself on the muzzle of a +gun as his companions danced among the gunners. It was Mulcahy who ran +wildly on from that battery into the open plain, where the enemy were +retiring in sullen groups. His hands were empty, he had lost helmet and +belt, and he was bleeding from a wound in the neck. Dan and Horse Egan, +panting and distressed, had thrown themselves down on the ground by the +captured guns, when they noticed Mulcahy's charge. + +"Mad," said Horse Egan critically. "Mad with fear! He's going straight +to his death, an' shouting's no use." + +"Let him go. Watch now! If we fire we'll hit him maybe." + +The last of a hurrying crowd of Afghans turned at the noise of shod feet +behind him, and shifted his knife ready to hand. This, he saw, was no +time to take prisoners. Mulcahy tore on, sobbing; the straight-held +blade went home through the defenceless breast, and the body pitched +forward almost before a shot from Dan's rifle brought down the slayer +and still further hurried the Afghan retreat. The two Irishmen went out +to bring in their dead. + +"He was given the point, and that was an easy death," said Horse Egan, +viewing the corpse. "But would you ha' shot him, Danny, if he had +lived?" + +"He didn't live, so there's no sayin'. But I doubt I wud have bekaze +of the fun he gave us--let alone the beer. Hike up his legs, Horse, and +we'll bring him in. Perhaps 'tis better this way." + +They bore the poor limp body to the mass of the regiment, lolling +open-mouthed on their rifles; and there was a general snigger when one +of the younger subalterns said, "That was a good man!" + +"Phew," said Horse Egan, when a burial-party had taken over the burden. +"I'm powerful dhry, and this reminds me there'll be no more beer at +all." + +"Fwhy not?" said Dan, with a twinkle in his eye as he stretched himself +for rest. "Are we not conspirin' all we can, an' while we conspire are +we not entitled to free dhrinks? Sure his ould mother in New York would +not let her son's comrades perish of drouth--if she can be reached at +the end of a letter." + +"You're a janius," said Horse Egan. "0' coorse she will not. I wish +this crool war was over, an' we'd get back to canteen. Faith, the +Commander-in-chief ought to be hanged in his own little sword-belt for +makin' us work on wather." + +The Mavericks were generally of Horse Egan's opinion. So they made +haste to get their work done as soon as possible, and their industry was +rewarded by unexpected peace. "We can fight the sons of Adam," said the +tribesmen, "but we cannot fight the sons of Eblis, and this regiment +never stays still in one place. Let us therefore come in." They came +in, and "this regiment" withdrew to conspire under the leadership of Dan +Grady. + +Excellent as a subordinate, Dan failed altogether as a +chief-in-command--possibly because he was too much swayed by the advice +of the only man in the regiment who could manufacture more than one kind +of handwriting. The same mail that bore to Mulcahy's mother in New York +a letter from the colonel telling her how valiantly her son had fought +for the Queen, and how assuredly he would have been recommended for the +Victoria Cross had he survived, carried a communication signed, I grieve +to say, by that same colonel and all the officers of the regiment, +explaining their willingness to do "anything which is contrary to the +regulations and all kinds of revolutions" if only a little money could +be forwarded to cover incidental expenses. Daniel Grady, Esquire, would +receive funds, vice Mulcahy, who "was unwell at this present time of +writing." + +Both letters were forwarded from New York to Tehama Street, San +Francisco, with marginal comments as brief as they were bitter. +The Third Three read and looked at each other. Then the Second +Conspirator--he who believed in "joining hands with the practical +branches"--began to laugh, and on recovering his gravity said, +"Gentlemen, I consider this will be a lesson to us. We're left again. +Those cursed Irish have let us down. I knew they would, but"--here he +laughed afresh--"I'd give considerable to know what was at the back of +it all." + +His curiosity would have been satisfied had he seen Dan Grady, +discredited regimental conspirator, trying to explain to his thirsty +comrades in India the non-arrival of funds from New York. + + + + +THE MAN WHO WAS + + The Earth gave up her dead that tide, + Into our camp he came, + And said his say, and went his way, + And left our hearts aflame. + + Keep tally--on the gun-butt score + The vengeance we must take, + When God shall bring full reckoning, + For our dead comrade's sake. + + Ballad. + +Let it be clearly understood that the Russian is a delightful person +till he tucks in his shirt. As an Oriental he is charming. It is only +when he insists upon being treated as the most easterly of western +peoples instead of the most westerly of easterns that he becomes a +racial anomaly extremely difficult to handle. The host never knows which +side of his nature is going to turn up next. + +Dirkovitch was a Russian--a Russian of the Russians--who appeared to get +his bread by serving the Czar as an officer in a Cossack regiment, and +corresponding for a Russian newspaper with a name that was never twice +alike. He was a handsome young Oriental, fond of wandering through +unexplored portions of the earth, and he arrived in India from nowhere +in particular. At least no living man could ascertain whether it was by +way of Balkh, Badakshan, Chitral, Beluchistan, or Nepaul, or anywhere +else. The Indian Government, being in an unusually affable mood, gave +orders that he was to be civilly treated and shown everything that was +to be seen. So he drifted, talking bad English and worse French, from +one city to another, till he foregathered with Her Majesty's White +Hussars in the city of Peshawur, which stands at the mouth of that +narrow swordcut in the hills that men call the Khyber Pass. He was +undoubtedly an officer, and he was decorated after the manner of the +Russians with little enamelled crosses, and he could talk, and (though +this has nothing to do with his merits) he had been given up as a +hopeless task, or cask, by the Black Tyrone, who individually and +collectively, with hot whiskey and honey, mulled brandy, and mixed +spirits of every kind, had striven in all hospitality to make him drunk. +And when the Black Tyrone, who are exclusively Irish, fail to disturb +the peace of head of a foreigner--that foreigner is certain to be a +superior man. + +The White Hussars were as conscientious in choosing their wine as in +charging the enemy. All that they possessed, including some wondrous +brandy, was placed at the absolute disposition of Dirkovitch, and he +enjoyed himself hugely--even more than among the Black Tyrones. + +But he remained distressingly European through it all. The White Hussars +were "My dear true friends," "Fellow-soldiers glorious," and "Brothers +inseparable." He would unburden himself by the hour on the glorious +future that awaited the combined arms of England and Russia when their +hearts and their territories should run side by side, and the great +mission of civilising Asia should begin. That was unsatisfactory, +because Asia is not going to be civilised after the methods of the West. +There is too much Asia and she is too old. You cannot reform a lady of +many lovers, and Asia has been insatiable in her flirtations aforetime. +She will never attend Sunday-school or learn to vote save with swords +for tickets. + +Dirkovitch knew this as well as any one else, but it suited him to talk +special-correspondently and to make himself as genial as he could. Now +and then he volunteered a little, a very little, information about +his own sotnia of Cossacks, left apparently to look after themselves +somewhere at the back of beyond. He had done rough work in Central Asia, +and had seen rather more help-yourself fighting than most men of his +years. But he was careful never to betray his superiority, and more than +careful to praise on all occasions the appearance, drill, uniform, and +organisation of Her Majesty's White Hussars. And indeed they were a +regiment to be admired. When Lady Durgan, widow of the late Sir John +Durgan, arrived in their station, and after a short time had been +proposed to by every single man at mess, she put the public sentiment +very neatly when she explained that they were all so nice that unless +she could marry them all, including the colonel and some majors already +married, she was not going to content herself with one hussar. +Wherefore she wedded a little man in a rifle regiment, being by nature +contradictious; and the White Hussars were going to wear crape on their +arms, but compromised by attending the wedding in full force, and lining +the aisle with unutterable reproach. She had jilted them all--from +Basset-Holmer the senior captain to little Mildred the junior subaltern, +who could have given her four thousand a year and a title. + +The only persons who did not share the general regard for the White +Hussars were a few thousand gentlemen of Jewish extraction who lived +across the border, and answered to the name of Pathan. They had once met +the regiment officially and for something less than twenty minutes, but +the interview, which was complicated with many casualties, had filled +them with prejudice. They even called the White Hussars children of the +devil and sons of persons whom it would be perfectly impossible to meet +in decent society. Yet they were not above making their aversion +fill their money-belts. The regiment possessed carbines--beautiful +Martini-Henry carbines that would lob a bullet into an enemy's camp at +one thousand yards, and were even handier than the long rifle. Therefore +they were coveted all along the border, and since demand inevitably +breeds supply, they were supplied at the risk of life and limb for +exactly their weight in coined silver--seven and one half pounds' weight +of rupees, or sixteen pounds sterling reckoning the rupee at par. +They were stolen at night by snaky-haired thieves who crawled on their +stomachs under the nose of the sentries; they disappeared mysteriously +from locked arm-racks, and in the hot weather, when all the barrack +doors and windows were open, they vanished like puffs of their +own smoke. The border people desired them for family vendettas and +contingencies. But in the long cold nights of the northern Indian winter +they were stolen most extensively. The traffic of murder was liveliest +among the hills at that season, and prices ruled high. The regimental +guards were first doubled and then trebled. A trooper does not much +care if he loses a weapon--Government must make it good--but he deeply +resents the loss of his sleep. The regiment grew very angry, and one +rifle-thief bears the visible marks of their anger upon him to this +hour. That incident stopped the burglaries for a time, and the guards +were reduced accordingly, and the regiment devoted itself to polo with +unexpected results; for it beat by two goals to one that very terrible +polo corps the Lushkar Light Horse, though the latter had four ponies +apiece for a short hour's fight, as well as a native officer who played +like a lambent flame across the ground. + +They gave a dinner to celebrate the event. The Lushkar team came, and +Dirkovitch came, in the fullest full uniform of a Cossack officer, which +is as full as a dressing-gown, and was introduced to the Lushkars, and +opened his eyes as he regarded. They were lighter men than the Hussars, +and they carried themselves with the swing that is the peculiar right of +the Punjab Frontier Force and all Irregular Horse. Like everything else +in the Service it has to be learnt, but, unlike many things, it is never +forgotten, and remains on the body till death. + +The great beam-roofed mess-room of the White Hussars was a sight to be +remembered. All the mess plate was out on the long table--the same table +that had served up the bodies of five officers after a forgotten fight +long and long ago--the dingy, battered standards faced the door of +entrance, clumps of winter-roses lay between the silver candlesticks, +and the portraits of eminent officers deceased looked down on their +successors from between the heads of sambhur, nilghai, markhor, +and, pride of all the mess, two grinning snow-leopards that had cost +Basset-Holmer four months' leave that he might have spent in England, +instead of on the road to Thibet and the daily risk of his life by +ledge, snow-slide, and grassy slope. + +The servants in spotless white muslin and the crest of their regiments +on the brow of their turbans waited behind their masters, who were clad +in the scarlet and gold of the White Hussars, and the cream and silver +of the Lushkar Light Horse. Dirkovitch's dull green uniform was the only +dark spot at the board, but his big onyx eyes made up for it. He was +fraternising effusively with the captain of the Lushkar team, who was +wondering how many of Dirkovitch's Cossacks his own dark wiry +down-countrymen could account for in a fair charge. But one does not +speak of these things openly. + +The talk rose higher and higher, and the regimental band played between +the courses, as is the immemorial custom, till all tongues ceased for +a moment with the removal of the dinner-slips and the first toast of +obligation, when an officer rising said, "Mr. Vice, the Queen," and +little Mildred from the bottom of the table answered, "The Queen, God +bless her," and the big spurs clanked as the big men heaved themselves +up and drank the Queen upon whose pay they were falsely supposed to +settle their mess-bills. That Sacrament of the Mess never grows old, and +never ceases to bring a lump into the throat of the listener wherever he +be by sea or by land. Dirkovitch rose with his "brothers glorious," but +he could not understand. No one but an officer can tell what the toast +means; and the bulk have more sentiment than comprehension. Immediately +after the little silence that follows on the ceremony there entered the +native officer who had played for the Lushkar team. He could not, of +course, eat with the mess, but he came in at dessert, all six feet +of him, with the blue and silver turban atop, and the big black boots +below. The mess rose joyously as he thrust forward the hilt of his sabre +in token of fealty for the colonel of the White Hussars to touch, and +dropped into a vacant chair amid shouts of: "Rung ho, Hira Singh!" +(which being translated means "Go in and win"). "Did I whack you over +the knee, old man?" "Ressaidar Sahib, what the devil made you play that +kicking pig of a pony in the last ten minutes?" "Shabash, Ressaidar +Sahib!" Then the voice of the colonel, "The health of Ressaidar Hira +Singh!" + +After the shouting had died away Hira Singh rose to reply, for he was +the cadet of a royal house, the son of a king's son, and knew what was +due on these occasions. Thus he spoke in the vernacular:--"Colonel Sahib +and officers of this regiment. Much honour have you done me. This will I +remember. We came down from afar to play you. But we were beaten." ("No +fault of yours, Ressaidar Sahib. Played on our own ground, y' know. +Your ponies were cramped from the railway. Don't apologise!") "Therefore +perhaps we will come again if it be so ordained." ("Hear! Hear! Hear, +indeed! Bravo! Hsh!") "Then we will play you afresh" ("Happy to meet +you.") "till there are left no feet upon our ponies. Thus far for +sport." He dropped one hand on his sword-hilt and his eye wandered to +Dirkovitch lolling back in his chair. "But if by the will of God there +arises any other game which is not the polo game, then be assured, +Colonel Sahib and officers, that we will play it out side by side, +though they," again his eye sought Dirkovitch, "though they, I say, have +fifty ponies to our one horse." And with a deep-mouthed Rung ho! +that sounded like a musket-butt on flagstones he sat down amid leaping +glasses. + +Dirkovitch, who had devoted himself steadily to the brandy--the terrible +brandy aforementioned--did not understand, nor did the expurgated +translations offered to him at all convey the point. Decidedly Hira +Singh's was the speech of the evening, and the clamour might have +continued to the dawn had it not been broken by the noise of a shot +without that sent every man feeling at his defenseless left side. Then +there was a scuffle and a yell of pain. + +"Carbine-stealing again!" said the adjutant, calmly sinking back in +his chair. "This comes of reducing the guards. I hope the sentries have +killed him." + +The feet of armed men pounded on the verandah flags, and it was as +though something was being dragged. + +"Why don't they put him in the cells till the morning?" said the colonel +testily. "See if they've damaged him, sergeant." + +The mess sergeant fled out into the darkness and returned with two +troopers and a corporal, all very much perplexed. + +"Caught a man stealin' carbines, sir," said the corporal. "Leastways 'e +was crawlin' towards the barricks, sir, past the main road sentries, an' +the sentry 'e sez, sir--" + +The limp heap of rags upheld by the three men groaned. Never was seen so +destitute and demoralised an Afghan. He was turbanless, shoeless, caked +with dirt, and all but dead with rough handling. Hira Singh started +slightly at the sound of the man's pain. Dirkovitch took another glass +of brandy. + +"What does the sentry say?" said the colonel. + +"Sez 'e speaks English, sir," said the corporal. + +"So you brought him into mess instead of handing him over to the +sergeant! If he spoke all the Tongues of the Pentecost you've no +business--" + +Again the bundle groaned and muttered. Little Mildred had risen from his +place to inspect. He jumped back as though he had been shot. + +"Perhaps it would be better, sir, to send the men away," said he to the +colonel, for he was a much privileged subaltern. He put his arms round +the rag-bound horror as he spoke, and dropped him into a chair. It may +not have been explained that the littleness of Mildred lay in his being +six feet four and big in proportion. The corporal seeing that an officer +was disposed to look after the capture, and that the colonel's eye was +beginning to blaze, promptly removed himself and his men. The mess was +left alone with the carbine-thief, who laid his head on the table and +wept bitterly, hopelessly, and inconsolably as little children weep. + +Hira Singh leapt to his feet. "Colonel Sahib," said he, "that man is no +Afghan, for they weep Ai! Ai! Nor is he of Hindustan, for they weep Oh! +Ho! He weeps after the fashion of the white men, who say Ow! Ow!" + +"Now where the dickens did you get that knowledge, Hira Singh?" said the +captain of the Lushkar team. + +"Hear him!" said Hira Singh simply, pointing at the crumpled figure that +wept as though it would never cease. + +"He said, 'My God!" said little Mildred. "I heard him say it." + +The colonel and the mess-room looked at the man in silence. It is a +horrible thing to hear a man cry. A woman can sob from the top--of +her palate, or her lips, or anywhere else, but a man must cry from his +diaphragm, and it rends him to pieces. + +"Poor devil!" said the colonel, coughing tremendously. "We ought to send +him to hospital. He's been man-handled." + +Now the adjutant loved his carbines. They were to him as his +grandchildren, the men standing in the first place. He grunted +rebelliously: "I can understand an Afghan stealing, because he's built +that way. But I can't understand his crying. That makes it worse." + +The brandy must have affected Dirkovitch, for he lay back in his chair +and stared at the ceiling. There was nothing special in the ceiling +beyond a shadow as of a huge black coffin. Owing to some peculiarity in +the construction of the mess-room, this shadow was always thrown when +the candles were lighted. It never disturbed the digestion of the White +Hussars. They were in fact rather proud of it. + +"Is he going to cry all night?" said the colonel, "or are we supposed to +sit up with little Mildred's guest until he feels better?" + +The man in the chair threw up his head and stared at the mess. "Oh, my +God!" he said, and every soul in the mess rose to his feet. Then the +Lushkar captain did a deed for which he ought to have been given the +Victoria Cross--distinguished gallantry in a fight against overwhelming +curiosity. He picked up his team with his eyes as the hostess picks up +the ladies at the opportune moment, and pausing only by the colonel's +chair to say, "This isn't our affair, you know, sir," led them into the +verandah and the gardens. Hira Singh was the last to go, and he looked +at Dirkovitch. But Dirkovitch had departed into a brandy-paradise of his +own. His lips moved without sound and he was studying the coffin on the +ceiling. + +"White--white all over," said Basset-Holmer, the adjutant. "What a +pernicious renegade he must be! I wonder where he came from?" + +The colonel shook the man gently by the arm, and "Who are you?" said he. + +There was no answer. The man stared round the mess-room and smiled in +the colonel's face. Little Mildred, who was always more of a woman than +a man till "Boot and saddle" was sounded, repeated the question in a +voice that would have drawn confidences from a geyser. The man only +smiled. Dirkovitch at the far end of the table slid gently from his +chair to the floor. No son of Adam in this present imperfect world can +mix the Hussars' champagne with the Hussars' brandy by five and eight +glasses of each without remembering the pit whence he was digged and +descending thither. The band began to play the tune with which the +White Hussars from the date of their formation have concluded all their +functions. They would sooner be disbanded than abandon that tune; it is +a part of their system. The man straightened himself in his chair and +drummed on the table with his fingers. + +"I don't see why we should entertain lunatics," said the colonel. "Call +a guard and send him off to the cells. We'll look into the business in +the morning. Give him a glass of wine first, though." + +Little Mildred filled a sherry-glass with the brandy and thrust it over +to the man. He drank, and the tune rose louder, and he straightened +himself yet more. Then he put out his long-taloned hands to a piece of +plate opposite and fingered it lovingly. There was a mystery connected +with that piece of plate, in the shape of a spring which converted what +was a seven-branched candlestick, three springs on each side and one in +the middle, into a sort of wheel-spoke candelabrum. He found the spring, +pressed it, and laughed weakly. He rose from his chair and inspected a +picture on the wall, then moved on to another picture, the mess watching +him without a word. When he came to the mantelpiece he shook his head +and seemed distressed. A piece of plate representing a mounted hussar +in full uniform caught his eye. He pointed to it, and then to the +mantelpiece with inquiry in his eyes. + +"What is it--Oh, what is it?" said little Mildred. Then as a mother +might speak to a child, "That is a horse. Yes, a horse." + +Very slowly came the answer in a thick, passionless guttural--"Yes, +I--have seen. But--where is the horse?" + +You could have heard the hearts of the mess beating as the men drew back +to give the stranger full room in his wanderings. There was no question +of calling the guard. + +Again he spoke--very slowly, "Where is our horse?" + +There is but one horse in the White Hussars, and his portrait hangs +outside the door of the mess-room. He is the piebald drum-horse, +the king of the regimental band, that served the regiment for +seven-and-thirty years, and in the end was shot for old age. Half the +mess tore the thing down from its place and thrust it into the man's +hands. He placed it above the mantelpiece, it clattered on the ledge as +his poor hands dropped it, and he staggered towards the bottom of the +table, falling into Mildred's chair. Then all the men spoke to one +another something after this fashion, "The drum-horse hasn't hung over +the mantelpiece since '67." "How does he know?" "Mildred, go and speak +to him again." "Colonel, what are you going to do?" "Oh, dry up, and +give the poor devil a chance to pull himself together." "It isn't +possible anyhow. The man's a lunatic." + +Little Mildred stood at the colonel's side, talking in his ear. "Will +you be good enough to take your seats please, gentlemen!" he said, and +the mess dropped into the chairs. Only Dirkovitch's seat, next to little +Mildred's, was blank, and little Mildred himself had found Hira Singh's +place. The wide-eyed mess-sergeant filled the glasses in dead silence. +Once more the colonel rose, but his hand shook, and the port spilled on +the table as he looked straight at the man in little Mildred's chair and +said hoarsely, "Mr. Vice, the Queen." There was a little pause, but the +man sprung to his feet and answered without hesitation, "The Queen, +God bless her!" and as he emptied the thin glass he snapped the shank +between his fingers. + +Long and long ago, when the Empress of India was a young woman, and +there were no unclean ideals in the land, it was the custom of a few +messes to drink the Queen's toast in broken glass, to the vast delight +of the mess-contractors. The custom is now dead, because there is +nothing to break anything for, except now and again the word of a +Government, and that has been broken already. + +"That settles it," said the colonel, with a gasp. "He's not a sergeant. +What in the world is he?" + +The entire mess echoed the word, and the volley of questions would have +scared any man. It was no wonder that the ragged, filthy invader could +only smile and shake his head. + +From under the table, calm and smiling, rose Dirkovitch, who had been +roused from healthful slumber by feet upon his body. By the side of +the man he rose, and the man shrieked and grovelled. It was a horrible +sight, coming so swiftly upon the pride and glory of the toast that had +brought the strayed wits together. + +Dirkovitch made no offer to raise him, but little Mildred heaved him +up in an instant. It is not good that a gentleman who can answer to the +Queen's toast should lie at the feet of a subaltern of Cossacks. + +The hasty action tore the wretch's upper clothing nearly to the waist, +and his body was seamed with dry black scars. There is only one weapon +in the world that cuts in parallel lines, and it is neither the cane nor +the cat. Dirkovitch saw the marks, and the pupils of his eyes dilated. +Also his face changed. He said something that sounded like Shto ve +takete, and the man fawning answered, Chetyre. + +"What's that?" said everybody together. + +"His number. That is number four, you know." Dirkovitch spoke very +thickly. + +"What has a Queen's officer to do with a qualified number?" said the +Colonel, and an unpleasant growl ran round the table. + +"How can I tell?" said the affable Oriental with a sweet smile. "He +is a--how you have it?--escape--run-a-way, from over there." He nodded +towards the darkness of the night. + +"Speak to him if he'll answer you, and speak to him gently," said little +Mildred, settling the man in a chair. It seemed most improper to all +present that Dirkovitch should sip brandy as he talked in purring, +spitting Russian to the creature who answered so feebly and with such +evident dread. But since Dirkovitch appeared to understand, no one said +a word. All breathed heavily, leaning forward, in the long gaps of the +conversation. The next time that they have no engagements on hand the +White Hussars intend to go to St. Petersburg in a body to learn Russian. + +"He does not know how many years ago," said Dirkovitch, facing the mess, +"but he says it was very long ago in a war. I think that there was an +accident. He says he was of this glorious and distinguished regiment in +the war." + +"The rolls! The rolls! Holmer, get the rolls!" said little Mildred, +and the adjutant dashed off bare-headed to the orderly-room, where the +muster-rolls of the regiment were kept. He returned just in time to hear +Dirkovitch conclude, "Therefore, my dear friends, I am most sorry to +say there was an accident which would have been reparable if he had +apologised to that our colonel, which he had insulted." + +Then followed another growl which the colonel tried to beat down. The +mess was in no mood just then to weigh insults to Russian colonels. + +"He does not remember, but I think that there was an accident, and so +he was not exchanged among the prisoners, but he was sent to another +place--how do you say?--the country. So, he says, he came here. He does +not know how he came. Eh? He was at Chepany,"--the man caught the word, +nodded, and shivered,--"at Zhigansk and Irkutsk. I cannot understand how +he escaped. He says, too, that he was in the forests for many years, +but how many years he has forgotten--that with many things. It was an +accident; done because he did not apologise to that our colonel. Ah!" + +Instead of echoing Dirkovitch's sigh of regret, it is sad to record +that the White Hussars livelily exhibited un-Christian delight and other +emotions, hardly restrained by their sense of hospitality. Holmer flung +the frayed and yellow regimental rolls on the table, and the men flung +themselves at these. + +"Steady! Fifty-six--fifty-five--fifty-four," said Holmer. "Here we are. +'Lieutenant Austin Limmason. Missing.' That was before Sebastopol. +What an infernal shame! Insulted one of their colonels, and was quietly +shipped off. Thirty years of his life wiped out." + +"But he never apologised. Said he'd see him damned first," chorused the +mess. + +"Poor chap! I suppose he never had the chance afterwards. How did he +come here?" said the colonel. + +The dingy heap in the chair could give no answer. + +"Do you know who you are?" + +It laughed weakly. + +"Do you know that you are Limmason--Lieutenant Limmason of the White +Hussars?" + +Swiftly as a shot came the answer, in a slightly surprised tone, "Yes, +I'm--Limmason, of course." The light died out in his eyes, and the man +collapsed, watching every motion of Dirkovitch with terror. A flight +from Siberia may fix a few elementary facts in the mind, but it does not +seem to lead to continuity of thought. The man could not explain how, +like a homing pigeon, he had found his way to his own old mess again. +Of what he had suffered or seen he knew nothing. He cringed before +Dirkovitch as instinctively as he had pressed the spring of the +candlestick, sought the picture of the drum-horse, and answered to the +toast of the Queen. The rest was a blank that the dreaded Russian tongue +could only in part remove. His head bowed on his breast, and he giggled +and cowered alternately. + +The devil that lived in the brandy prompted Dirkovitch at this extremely +inopportune moment to make a speech. He rose, swaying slightly, gripped +the table-edge, while his eyes glowed like opals, and began: + +"Fellow-soldiers glorious--true friends and hospitables. It was an +accident, and deplorable--most deplorable." Here he smiled sweetly all +round the mess. "But you will think of this little, little thing. So +little, is it not? The Czar! Posh! I slap my fingers--I snap my fingers +at him. Do I believe in him? No! But in us Slav who has done nothing, +him I believe. Seventy--how much--millions peoples that have done +nothing--not one thing. Posh! Napoleon was an episode." He banged a +hand on the table. "Hear you, old peoples, we have done nothing in +the world--out here. All our work is to do; and it shall be done, old +peoples. Get a-way!" He waved his hand imperiously, and pointed to the +man. "You see him. He is not good to see. He was just one little--oh, so +little--accident, that no one remembered. Now he is----" + +"That! So will you be, brother soldiers so brave so will you be. But you +will never come back. You will all go where he is gone, or"--he pointed +to the great coffin-shadow on the ceiling, and muttering, "Seventy +millions--get a-way, you old peoples," fell asleep. + +"Sweet, and to the point," said little Mildred. "What's the use of +getting wroth? Let's make this poor devil comfortable." + +But that was a matter suddenly and swiftly taken from the loving hands +of the White Hussars. The lieutenant had returned only to go away again +three days later, when the wail of the Dead March, and the tramp of the +squadrons, told the wondering Station, who saw no gap in the mess-table, +that an officer of the regiment had resigned his new-found commission. + +And Dirkovitch, bland, supple, and always genial, went away too by a +night train. Little Mildred and another man saw him off, for he was the +guest of the mess, and even had he smitten the colonel with the open +hand, the law of that mess allowed no relaxation of hospitality. + +"Good-bye, Dirkovitch, and a pleasant journey," said little Mildred. + +"Au revoir," said the Russian. + +"Indeed! But we thought you were going home?" + +"Yes, but I will come again. My dear friends, is that road shut?" He +pointed to where the North Star burned over the Khyber Pass. + +"By Jove! I forgot. Of course. Happy to meet you, old man, any time you +like. Got everything you want? Cheroots, ice, bedding? That's all right. +Well, au revoir, Dirkovitch." + +"Um," said the other man, as the tail-lights of the train grew small. +"Of--all--the--unmitigated!" + +Little Mildred answered nothing, but watched the North Star and hummed a +selection from recent Simla burlesque that had much delighted the White +Hussars. It ran-- + + I'm sorry for Mister Bluebeard, + I'm sorry to cause him pain; + But a terrible spree there's sure to be + When he comes back again. + + + + +ONLY A SUBALTERN + + Not only to enforce by command but to encourage by example + the energetic discharge of duty and the steady endurance of + the difficulties and privations inseparable from Military + Service.--Bengal Army Regulations. + +They made Bobby Wick pass an examination at Sandhurst. He was a +gentleman before he was gazetted, so, when the Empress announced that +"Gentleman-Cadet Robert Hanna Wick" was posted as Second Lieutenant to +the Tyneside Tail Twisters at Krab Bokhar, he became an officer and a +gentleman, which is an enviable thing; and there was joy in the house +of Wick, where Mamma Wick and all the little Wicks fell upon their knees +and offered incense to Bobby by virtue of his achievements. + +Papa Wick had been a Commissioner in his day, holding authority over +three millions of men in the Chota-Buldana Division, building great +works for the good of the land, and doing his best to make two blades +of grass grow where there was but one before. Of course, nobody knew +anything about this in the little English village where he was just "old +Mr. Wick" and had forgotten that he was a Companion of the Order of the +Star of India. + +He patted Bobby on the shoulder and said: "Well done, my boy!" + +There followed, while the uniform was being prepared, an interval of +pure delight, during which Bobby took brevet-rank as a "man" at the +women-swamped tennis-parties and tea-fights of the village, and, I +daresay, had his joining-time been extended, would have fallen in love +with several girls at once. Little country villages at Home are very +full of nice girls, because all the young men come out to India to make +their fortunes. + +"India," said Papa Wick, "is the place. I've had thirty years of it, +and, begad, I'd like to go back again. When you join the Tail Twisters +you'll be among friends, if every one hasn't forgotten Wick of +Chota-Buldana, and a lot of people will be kind to you for our sakes. +The mother will tell you more about outfit than I can, but remember +this. Stick to your Regiment, Bobby--stick to your Regiment. You'll see +men all round you going into the Staff Corps, and doing every possible +sort of duty but regimental, and you may be tempted to follow suit. Now +so long as you keep within your allowance, and I haven't stinted you +there, stick to the Line, the whole Line, and nothing but the Line. Be +careful how you back another young fool's bill, and if you fall in love +with a woman twenty years older than yourself, don't tell me about it, +that's all." + +With these counsels, and many others equally valuable, did Papa Wick +fortify Bobby ere that last awful night at Portsmouth when the Officers' +Quarters held more inmates than were provided for by the Regulations, +and the liberty-men of the ships fell foul of the drafts for India, and +the battle raged from the Dockyard Gates even to the slums of Longport, +while the drabs of Fratton came down and scratched the faces of the +Queen's Officers. + +Bobby Wick, with an ugly bruise on his freckled nose, a sick and shaky +detachment to manoeuvre inship, and the comfort of fifty scornful +females to attend to, had no time to feel homesick till the Malabar +reached mid-Channel, when he doubled his emotions with a little +guard-visiting and a great many other matters. + +The Tail Twisters were a most particular Regiment. Those who knew them +least said that they were eaten up with "side." But their reserve and +their internal arrangements generally were merely protective diplomacy. +Some five years before, the Colonel commanding had looked into the +fourteen fearless eyes of seven plump and juicy subalterns who had all +applied to enter the Staff Corps, and had asked them why the three +stars should he, a colonel of the Line, command a dashed nursery for +double-dashed bottle-suckers who put on condemned tin spurs and rode +qualified mokes at the hiatused heads of forsaken Black Regiments. He +was a rude man and a terrible. Wherefore the remnant took measures +(with the half-butt as an engine of public opinion) till the rumour +went abroad that young men who used the Tail Twisters as a crutch to the +Staff Corps had many and varied trials to endure. However, a regiment +has just as much right to its own secrets as a woman. + +When Bobby came up from Deolali and took his place among the Tail +Twisters, it was gently but firmly borne in upon him that the Regiment +was his father and his mother and his indissolubly wedded wife, and +that there was no crime under the canopy of heaven blacker than that +of bringing shame on the Regiment, which was the best-shooting, +best-drilled, best set-up, bravest, most illustrious, and in all +respects most desirable Regiment within the compass of the Seven Seas. +He was taught the legends of the Mess Plate, from the great grinning +Golden Gods that had come out of the Summer Palace in Pekin to the +silver-mounted markhor-horn snuffmull presented by the last C. O. (he +who spake to the seven subalterns). And every one of those legends told +him of battles fought at long odds, without fear as without support; of +hospitality catholic as an Arab's; of friendships deep as the sea and +steady as the fighting-line; of honour won by hard roads for honour's +sake; and of instant and unquestioning devotion to the Regiment--the +Regiment that claims the lives of all and lives forever. + +More than once, too, he came officially into contact with the Regimental +colours, which looked like the lining of a bricklayer's hat on the end +of a chewed stick. Bobby did not kneel and worship them, because British +subalterns are not constructed in that manner. Indeed, he condemned them +for their weight at the very moment that they were filling him with awe +and other more noble sentiments. + +But best of all was the occasion when he moved with the Tail Twisters +in review order at the breaking of a November day. Allowing for duty-men +and sick, the Regiment was one thousand and eighty strong, and Bobby +belonged to them; for was he not a Subaltern of the Line,--the whole +Line and nothing but the Line,--as the tramp of two thousand one hundred +and sixty sturdy ammunition boots attested? He would not have changed +places with Deighton of the Horse Battery, whirling by in a pillar of +cloud to a chorus of "Strong right! Strong left!" or Hogan-Yale of the +White Hussars, leading his squadron for all it was worth, with the price +of horseshoes thrown in; or "Tick" Boileau, trying to live up to his +fierce blue and gold turban while the wasps of the Bengal Cavalry +stretched to a gallop in the wake of the long, lollopping Walers of the +White Hussars. + +They fought through the clear cool day, and Bobby felt a little thrill +run down his spine when he heard the tinkle-tinkle-tinkle of the empty +cartridge-cases hopping from the breech-blocks after the roar of the +volleys; for he knew that he should live to hear that sound in action. +The review ended in a glorious chase across the plain--batteries +thundering after cavalry to the huge disgust of the White Hussars, and +the Tyneside Tail Twisters hunting a Sikh Regiment till the lean, lathy +Singhs panted with exhaustion. Bobby was dusty and dripping long before +noon, but his enthusiasm was merely focused--not diminished. + +He returned to sit at the feet of Revere, his "skipper," that is to say, +the Captain of his Company, and to be instructed in the dark art and +mystery of managing men, which is a very large part of the Profession of +Arms. + +"If you haven't a taste that way," said Revere between his puffs of +his cheroot, "you'll never be able to get the hang of it, but remember, +Bobby, 'tisn't the best drill, though drill is nearly everything, that +hauls a Regiment through Hell and out on the other side. It's the man +who knows how to handle men--goat-men, swine-men, dog-men, and so on." + +"Dormer, for instance," said Bobby; "I think he comes under the head of +fool-men. He mopes like a sick owl." + +"That 's where you make your mistake, my son. Dormer isn't a fool yet, +but he's a dashed dirty soldier, and his room corporal makes fun of his +socks before kit-inspection. Dormer, being two-thirds pure brute, goes +into a corner and growls." + +"How do you know'?" said Bobby admiringly. + +"Because a Company commander has to know these things--because, if he +does not know, he may have crime--ay, murder--brewing under his very +nose and yet not see that it's there. Dormer is being badgered out of +his mind--big as he is--and he hasn't intellect enough to resent it. +He's taken to quiet boozing, and, Bobby, when the butt of a room goes on +the drink, or takes to moping by himself, measures are necessary to pull +him out of himself." + +"What measures? Man can't run round coddling his men for ever." + +"No. The men would precious soon show him that he was not wanted. You've +got to--" + +Here the Colour-sergeant entered with some papers; Bobby reflected for a +while as Revere looked through the Company forms. + +"Does Dormer do anything, Sergeant?" Bobby asked with the air of one +continuing an interrupted conversation. + +"No, sir. Does 'is dooty like a hortomato," said the Sergeant, who +delighted in long words. "A dirty soldier, and 'e's under full stoppages +for new kit. It's covered with scales, sir." + +"Scales? What scales?" + +"Fish-scales, sir. 'E's always pokin' in the mud by the river an' +a-cleanin' them muchly-fish with 'is thumbs." Revere was still absorbed +in the Company papers, and the Sergeant, who was sternly fond of Bobby, +continued,--"'E generally goes down there when 'e's got 'is skinful, +beggin' your pardon, sir, an' they do say that the more lush--inebriated +'e is, the more fish 'e catches. They call 'im the Looney Fishmonger in +the Comp'ny, sir." + +Revere signed the last paper and the Sergeant retreated. + +"It's a filthy amusement," sighed Bobby to himself. Then aloud to +Revere: "Are you really worried about Dormer?" + +"A little. You see he's never mad enough to send to hospital, or drunk +enough to run in, but at any minute he may flare up, brooding and +sulking as he does. He resents any interest being shown in him, and the +only time I took him out shooting he all but shot me by accident." + +"I fish," said Bobby, with a wry face. "I hire a country-boat and go +down river from Thursday to Sunday, and the amiable Dormer goes with +me--if you can spare us both." + +"You blazing young fool!" said Revere, but his heart was full of much +more pleasant words. + +Bobby, the Captain of a dhoni, with Private Dormer for mate, dropped +down the river on Thursday morning--the Private at the bow, the +Subaltern at the helm. The Private glared uneasily at the Subaltern, who +respected the reserve of the Private. + +After six hours, Dormer paced to the stern, saluted, and said--"Beg +y' pardon, sir, but was you ever on the Durh'm Canal?" + +"No," said Bobby Wick. "Come and have some tiffin." + +They ate in silence. As the evening fell, Private Dormer broke forth, +speaking to himself-- + +"Hi was on the Durh'm Canal, jes' such a night, come next week +twelvemonth, a-trailin' of my toes in the water." He smoked and said no +more till bedtime. + +The witchery of the dawn turned the gray river-reaches to purple, gold, +and opal; and it was as though the lumbering dhoni crept across the +splendours of a new heaven. + +Private Dormer popped his head out of his blanket and gazed at the glory +below and around. + +"Well--damn--my eyes!" said Private Dormer in an awed whisper. "This +'ere is like a bloomin' gallantry-show!" For the rest of the day he was +dumb, but achieved an ensanguined filthiness through the cleaning of big +fish. + +The boat returned on Saturday evening. Dormer had been struggling with +speech since noon. As the lines and luggage were being disembarked, he +found tongue. + +"Beg y' pardon, sir," he said, "but would you--would you min' shakin' +'ands with me, sir?" + +"Of course not," said Bobby, and he shook accordingly. Dormer returned +to barracks and Bobby to mess. + +"He wanted a little quiet and some fishing, I think," said Bobby. "My +aunt, but he's a filthy sort of animal! Have you ever seen him clean +'them muchly-fish with 'is thumbs?" + +"Anyhow," said Revere three weeks later, "he's doing his best to keep +his things clean." + +When the spring died, Bobby joined in the general scramble for Hill +leave, and to his surprise and delight secured three months. + +"As good a boy as I want," said Revere, the admiring skipper. + +"The best of the batch," said the Adjutant to the Colonel. "Keep back +that young skrimshanker Porkiss, sir, and let Revere make him sit up." + +So Bobby departed joyously to Simla Pahar with a tin box of gorgeous +raiment. + +"Son of Wick--old Wick of Chota-Buldana? Ask him to dinner, dear," said +the aged men. + +"What a nice boy!" said the matrons and the maids. + +"First-class place, Simla. Oh, ri----ipping!" said Bobby Wick, and +ordered new white cord breeches on the strength of it. + +"We're in a bad way," wrote Revere to Bobby at the end of two months. +"Since you left, the Regiment has taken to fever and is fairly rotten +with it--two hundred in hospital, about a hundred in cells--drinking to +keep off fever--and the Companies on parade fifteen file strong at the +outside. There's rather more sickness in the out-villages than I care +for, but then I'm so blistered with prickly-heat that I'm ready to hang +myself. What's the yarn about your mashing a Miss Haverley up there? Not +serious, I hope? You're over-young to hang millstones round your neck, +and the Colonel will turf you out of that in double-quick time if you +attempt it." + +It was not the Colonel that brought Bobby out of Simla, but a much more +to be respected Commandant. The sickness in the out-villages spread, +the Bazar was put out of bounds, and then came the news that the +Tail Twisters must go into camp. The message flashed to the Hill +stations.--"Cholera--Leave stopped--Officers recalled." Alas, for the +white gloves in the neatly soldered boxes, the rides and the dances and +picnics that were to be, the loves half spoken, and the debts unpaid! +Without demur and without question, fast as tonga could fly or pony +gallop, back to their Regiments and their Batteries, as though they were +hastening to their weddings, fled the subalterns. + +Bobby received his orders on returning from a dance at Viceregal Lodge, +where he had but only the Haverley girl knows what Bobby had said or how +many waltzes he had claimed for the next ball. Six in the morning saw +Bobby at the Tonga Office in the drenching rain, the whirl of the last +waltz still in his ears, and an intoxication due neither to wine nor +waltzing in his brain. + +"Good man!" shouted Deighton of the Horse Battery through the mists. +"Whar you raise dat tonga? I'm coming with you. Ow! But I've a head and +half. I didn't sit out all night. They say the Battery's awful bad," and +he hummed dolorously-- + + "Leave the what at the what's-its-name, + Leave the flock without shelter, + Leave the corpse uninterred, + Leave the bride at the altar + + +"My faith! It'll be more bally corpse than bride, though, this journey. +Jump in, Bobby. Get on, Coachwan!" + +On the Umballa platform waited a detachment of officers discussing the +latest news from the stricken cantonment, and it was here that Bobby +learned the real condition of the Tail Twisters. + +"They went into camp," said an elderly Major recalled from the +whist-tables at Mussoorie to a sickly Native Regiment, "they went into +camp with two hundred and ten sick in carts. Two hundred and ten fever +cases only, and the balance looking like so many ghosts with sore eyes. +A Madras Regiment could have walked through 'em." + +"But they were as fit as be-damned when I left them!" said Bobby. + +"Then you'd better make them as fit as be-damned when you rejoin," said +the Major brutally. + +Bobby pressed his forehead against the rain-splashed window-pane as the +train lumbered across the sodden Doab, and prayed for the health of the +Tyneside Tail Twisters. Naini Tal had sent down her contingent with +all speed; the lathering ponies of the Dalhousie Road staggered into +Pathankot, taxed to the full stretch of their strength; while from +cloudy Darjiling the Calcutta Mail whirled up the last straggler of the +little army that was to fight a fight, in which was neither medal nor +honour for the winning, against an enemy none other than "the sickness +that destroyeth in the noonday." + +And as each man reported himself, he said: "This is a bad business," +and went about his own forthwith, for every Regiment and Battery in the +cantonment was under canvas, the sickness bearing them company. + +Bobby fought his way through the rain to the Tail Twisters' temporary +mess, and Revere could have fallen on the boy's neck for the joy of +seeing that ugly, wholesome phiz once more. + +"Keep 'em amused and interested," said Revere. "They went on the drink, +poor fools, after the first two cases, and there was no improvement. Oh, +it's good to have you back, Bobby! Porkiss is a--never mind." + +Deighton came over from the Artillery camp to attend a dreary mess +dinner, and contributed to the general gloom by nearly weeping over the +condition of his beloved Battery. Porkiss so far forgot himself as to +insinuate that the presence of the officers could do no earthly good, +and that the best thing would be to send the entire Regiment into +hospital and "let the doctors look after them." Porkiss was demoralised +with fear, nor was his peace of mind restored when Revere said coldly: +"Oh! The sooner you go out the better, if that's your way of thinking. +Any public school could send us fifty good men in your place, but it +takes time, time, Porkiss, and money, and a certain amount of trouble, +to make a Regiment. S'pose you're the person we go into camp for, eh?" + +Whereupon Porkiss was overtaken with a great and chilly fear which a +drenching in the rain did not allay, and, two days later, quitted this +world for another where, men do fondly hope, allowances are made for the +weaknesses of the flesh. The Regimental Sergeant-Major looked wearily +across the Sergeants' Mess tent when the news was announced. + +"There goes the worst of them," he said. "It'll take the best, and then, +please God, it'll stop." The Sergeants were silent till one said: "It +couldn't be him!" and all knew of whom Travis was thinking. + +Bobby Wick stormed through the tents of his Company, rallying, +rebuking, mildly, as is consistent with the Regulations, chaffing the +fainthearted; haling the sound into the watery sunlight when there was +a break in the weather, and bidding them be of good cheer, for their +trouble was nearly at an end; scuttling on his dun pony round the +outskirts of the camp and heading back men who, with the innate +perversity of British soldiers, were always wandering into infected +villages, or drinking deeply from rain-flooded marshes; comforting the +panic-stricken with rude speech, and more than once tending the dying +who had no friends--the men without "townies"; organizing, with banjos +and burnt cork, Sing-songs which should allow the talent of the +Regiment full play; and generally, as he explained, "playing the giddy +garden-goat all round." + +"You're worth half a dozen of us, Bobby," said Revere in a moment of +enthusiasm. "How the devil do you keep it up?" + +Bobby made no answer, but had Revere looked into the breast-pocket of +his coat he might have seen there a sheaf of badly-written letters which +perhaps accounted for the power that possessed the boy. A letter came +to Bobby every other day. The spelling was not above reproach, but the +sentiments must have been most satisfactory, for on receipt Bobby's eyes +softened marvellously, and he was wont to fall into a tender abstraction +for a while ere, shaking his cropped head, he charged into his work. + +By what power he drew after him the hearts of the roughest, and the +Tail Twisters counted in their ranks some rough diamonds indeed, was +a mystery to both skipper and C. O., who learned from the regimental +chaplain that Bobby was considerably more in request in the hospital +tents than the Reverend John Emery. + +"The men seem fond of you. Are you in the hospitals much?" said the +Colonel, who did his daily round and ordered the men to get well with a +hardness that did not cover his bitter grief. + +"A little, sir," said Bobby. + +"Shouldn't go there too often if I were you. They say it's not +contagious, but there's no use in running unnecessary risks. We can't +afford to have you down, y' know." + +Six days later, it was with the utmost difficulty that the post-runner +plashed his way out to the camp with the mail-bags, for the rain was +falling in torrents. Bobby received a letter, bore it off to his tent, +and, the programme for the next week's Sing-song being satisfactorily +disposed of, sat down to answer it. For an hour the unhandy pen toiled +over the paper, and where sentiment rose to more than normal tide-level, +Bobby Wick stuck out his tongue and breathed heavily. He was not used to +letter-writing. + +"Beg y' pardon, sir," said a voice at the tent door; "but Dormer's +'orrid bad, sir, an' they've taken him orf, sir." + +"Damn Private Dormer and you too!" said Bobby Wick, running the blotter +over the half-finished letter. "Tell him I'll come in the morning." + +"'E's awful bad, sir," said the voice hesitatingly. There was an +undecided squelching of heavy boots. + +"Well?" said Bobby impatiently. + +"Excusin' 'imself before 'and for takin' the liberty, 'e says it would +be a comfort for to assist 'im, sir, if--tattoo lao! Get my pony! Here, +come in out of the rain till I'mready. What blasted nuisances you are! +That's brandy. Drink some; you want it. Hang on to my stirrup and tell +me if I go too fast." + +Strengthened by a four-finger "nip" which he swallowed without a wink, +the Hospital Orderly kept up with the slipping, mud-stained, and very +disgusted pony as it shambled to the hospital tent. + +Private Dormer was certainly "'orrid bad." He had all but reached the +stage of collapse, and was not pleasant to look upon. + +"What's this, Dormer?" said Bobby, bending over the man. "You're not +going out this time. You've got to come fishing with me once or twice +more yet." + +The blue lips parted and in the ghost of a whisper said,--"Beg y' +pardon, sir, disturbin' of you now, but would you min' 'oldin' my 'and, +sir'?" + +Bobby sat on the side of the bed, and the icy-cold hand closed on his +own like a vice, forcing a lady's ring which was on the little finger +deep into the flesh. Bobby set his lips and waited, the water dripping +from the hem of his trousers. An hour passed, and the grasp of the hand +did not relax, nor did the expression of the drawn face change. Bobby +with infinite craft lit himself a cheroot with the left hand (his right +arm was numbed to the elbow), and resigned himself to a night of pain. + +Dawn showed a very white-faced Subaltern sitting on the side of a +sick man's cot, and a Doctor in the doorway using language unfit for +publication. + +"Have you been here all night, you young ass?" said the Doctor. + +"There or thereabouts," said Bobby ruefully. "He's frozen on to me." + +Dormer's mouth shut with a click. He turned his head and sighed. The +clinging hand opened, and Bobby's arm fell useless at his side. + +"He'll do," said the Doctor quietly. "It must have been a toss-up all +through the night. 'Think you're to be congratulated on this case." + +"Oh, bosh!" said Bobby. "I thought the man had gone out long +ago--only--only I didn't care to take my hand away. Rub my arm down, +there's a good chap. What a grip the brute has! I'm chilled to the +marrow!" He passed out of the tent shivering. + +Private Dormer was allowed to celebrate his repulse of Death by strong +waters. Four days later, he sat on the side of his cot and said to the +patients mildly: "I'd 'a' liken to 'a' spoken to 'im--so I should." + +But at that time Bobby was reading yet another letter,--he had the most +persistent correspondent of any man in camp,--and was even then about to +write that the sickness had abated, and in another week at the outside +would be gone. He did not intend to say that the chill of a sick man's +hand seemed to have struck into the heart whose capacities for affection +he dwelt on at such length. He did intend to enclose the illustrated +programme of the forthcoming Sing-song, whereof he was not a little +proud. He also intended to write on many other matters which do not +concern us, and doubtless would have done so but for the slight feverish +headache which made him dull and unresponsive at mess. + +"You are overdoing it, Bobby," said his skipper. "'Might give the rest +of us credit of doing a little work. You go on as if you were the whole +Mess rolled into one. Take it easy." + +"I will," said Bobby. "I'm feeling done up, somehow." Revere looked at +him anxiously and said nothing. + +There was a flickering of lanterns about the camp that night, and a +rumour that brought men out of their cots to the tent doors, a paddling +of the naked feet of doolie-bearers, and the rush of a galloping horse. + +"Wot's up?" asked twenty tents; and through twenty tents ran the +answer--"Wick, 'e's down." + +They brought the news to Revere and he groaned. "Any one but Bobby and I +shouldn't have cared! The Sergeant-Major was right." + +"Not going out this journey," gasped Bobby, as he was lifted from +the doolie. "Not going out this journey." Then with an air of supreme +conviction--"I can't, you see." + +"Not if I can do anything!" said the Surgeon-Major, who had hastened +over from the mess where he had been dining. + +He and the Regimental Surgeon fought together with Death for the life +of Bobby Wick. Their work was interrupted by a hairy apparition in a +blue-gray dressing-gown, who stared in horror at the bed and cried--"Oh, +my Gawd! It can't be 'im!" until an indignant Hospital Orderly whisked +him away. + +If care of man and desire to live could have done aught, Bobby would +have been saved. As it was, he made a fight of three days, and the +Surgeon-Major's brow uncreased. "We'll save him yet," he said; and the +Surgeon, who, though he ranked with the Captain, had a very youthful +heart, went out upon the word and pranced joyously in the mud. + +"Not going out this journey," whispered Bobby Wick gallantly, at the end +of the third day. + +"Bravo!" said the Surgeon-Major. "That's the way to look at it, Bobby." + +As evening fell a gray shade gathered round Bobby's mouth, and he turned +his face to the tent-wall wearily. The Surgeon-Major frowned. + +"I'm awfully tired," said Bobby, very faintly. "What's the use of +bothering me with medicine? I--don't--want--it. Let me alone." + +The desire for life had departed, and Bobby was content to drift away on +the easy tide of Death. + +"It's no good," said the Surgeon-Major. "He doesn't want to live. He's +meeting it, poor child." And he blew his nose. + +Half a mile away, the regimental band was playing the overture to the +Sing-song, for the men had been told that Bobby was out of danger. The +clash of the brass and the wail of the horns reached Bobby's ears. + + Is there a single joy or pain, + That I should never kno-ow? + You do not love me, 'tis in vain, + Bid me good-bye and go! + +An expression of hopeless irritation crossed the boy's face, and he +tried to shake his head. + +The Surgeon-Major bent down--"What is it, Bobby?"---"Not that waltz," +muttered Bobby. "That's our own--our very ownest own... Mummy dear." + +With this he sank into the stupor that gave place to death early next +morning. + +Revere, his eyes red at the rims and his nose very white, went into +Bobby's tent to write a letter to Papa Wick which should bow the white +head of the ex-Commissioner of Chota-Buldana in the keenest sorrow of +his life. Bobby's little store of papers lay in confusion on the table, +and among them a half-finished letter. The last sentence ran: "So you +see, darling, there is really no fear, because as long as I know you +care for me and I care for you, nothing can touch me." + +Revere stayed in the tent for an hour. When he came out, his eyes were +redder than ever. + +Private Conklin sat on a turned-down bucket, and listened to a not +unfamiliar tune. Private Conklin was a convalescent and should have been +tenderly treated. + +"Ho!" said Private Conklin. "There's another bloomin' orf'cer da-ed." + +The bucket shot from under him, and his eyes filled with a smithyful of +sparks. A tall man in a blue-gray bedgown was regarding him with deep +disfavour. + +"You ought to take shame for yourself, Conky! Orf'cer?--bloomin' +orf'cer? I'll learn you to misname the likes of 'im. Hangel! Bloomin' +Hangel! That's wot 'e is!" + +And the Hospital Orderly was so satisfied with the justice of the +punishment that he did not even order Private Dormer back to his cot. + + + + +IN THE MATTER OF A PRIVATE + + Hurrah! hurrah! a soldier's life for me! + Shout, boys, shout! for it makes you jolly and free. + + The Ramrod Corps. + +People who have seen say that one of the quaintest spectacles of human +frailty is an outbreak of hysterics in a girls' school. It starts +without warning, generally on a hot afternoon, among the elder pupils. A +girl giggles till the giggle gets beyond control. Then she throws up +her head and cries, "Honk, honk, honk," like a wild goose, and tears mix +with the laughter. If the mistress be wise, she will rap out something +severe at this point to check matters. If she be tender-hearted, and +send for a drink of water, the chances are largely in favour of another +girl laughing at the afflicted one and herself collapsing. Thus the +trouble spreads, and may end in half of what answers to the Lower Sixth +of a boys' school rocking and whooping together. Given a week of warm +weather, two stately promenades per diem, a heavy mutton and rice meal +in the middle of the day, a certain amount of nagging from the teachers, +and a few other things, some amazing effects develop. At least, this is +what folk say who have had experience. + +Now, the Mother Superior of a Convent and the Colonel of a British +Infantry Regiment would be justly shocked at any comparison being made +between their respective charges. But it is a fact that, under certain +circumstances, Thomas in bulk can be worked up into ditthering, rippling +hysteria. He does not weep, but he shows his trouble unmistakably, and +the consequences get into the newspapers, and all the good people +who hardly know a Martini from a Snider say: "Take away the brute's +ammunition!" + +Thomas isn't a brute, and his business, which is to look after the +virtuous people, demands that he shall have his ammunition to his hand. +He doesn't wear silk stockings, and he really ought to be supplied with +a new Adjective to help him to express his opinions: but, for all that, +he is a great man. If you call him "the heroic defender of the national +honour" one day, and "a brutal and licentious soldiery" the next, you +naturally bewilder him, and he looks upon you with suspicion. There is +nobody to speak for Thomas except people who have theories to work off +on him, and nobody understands Thomas except Thomas, and he does not +always know what is the matter with himself. + +That is the prologue. This is the story:-- + +Corporal Slane was engaged to be married to Miss Jhansi M'Kenna, +whose history is well known in the regiment and elsewhere. He had his +Colonel's permission, and, being popular with the men, every arrangement +had been made to give the wedding what Private Ortheris called "eeklar." +It fell in the heart of the hot weather, and, after the wedding, +Slane was going up to the Hills with the bride. None the less, Slane's +grievance was that the affair would be only a hired-carriage wedding, +and he felt that the "eeklar" of that was meagre. Miss M'Kenna did +not care so much. The Sergeant's wife was helping her to make her +wedding-dress, and she was very busy. Slane was, just then, the only +moderately contented man in barracks. All the rest were more or less +miserable. + +And they had so much to make them happy, too. All their work was over +at eight in the morning, and for the rest of the day they could lie on +their backs and smoke Canteen-plug and swear at the punkah-coolies. They +enjoyed a fine, full flesh meal in the middle of the day, and then threw +themselves down on their cots and sweated and slept till it was cool +enough to go out with their "towny," whose vocabulary contained less +than six hundred words, and the Adjective, and whose views on every +conceivable question they had heard many times before. + +There was the Canteen, of course, and there was the Temperance Room with +the second-hand papers in it; but a man of any profession cannot read +for eight hours a day in a temperature of 96 deg. or 98 deg. in the shade, +running up sometimes to 103 deg. at midnight. Very few men, even though they +get a pannikin of flat, stale, muddy beer and hide it under their cots, +can continue drinking for six hours a day. One man tried, but he died, +and nearly the whole regiment went to his funeral because it gave +them something to do. It was too early for the excitement of fever or +cholera. The men could only wait and wait and wait, and watch the shadow +of the barrack creeping across the blinding white dust. That was a gay +life. + +They lounged about cantonments--it was too hot for any sort of game, +and almost too hot for vice--and fuddled themselves in the evening, +and filled themselves to distension with the healthy nitrogenous food +provided for them, and the more they stoked the less exercise they took +and more explosive they grew. Then tempers began to wear away, and men +fell a-brooding over insults real or imaginary, for they had nothing +else to think of. The tone of the repartees changed, and instead +of saying light-heartedly: "I'll knock your silly face in," men grew +laboriously polite and hinted that the cantonments were not big enough +for themselves and their enemy, and that there would be more space for +one of the two in another Place. + +It may have been the Devil who arranged the thing, but the fact of the +case is that Losson had for a long time been worrying Simmons in an +aimless way. It gave him occupation. The two had their cots side by +side, and would sometimes spend a long afternoon swearing at each other; +but Simmons was afraid of Losson and dared not challenge him to a fight. +He thought over the words in the hot still nights, and half the hate he +felt towards Losson he vented on the wretched punkah-coolie. + +Losson bought a parrot in the bazar, and put it into a little cage, +and lowered the cage into the cool darkness of a well, and sat on the +well-curb, shouting bad language down to the parrot. He taught it to +say: "Simmons, ye so-oor," which means swine, and several other things +entirely unfit for publication. He was a big gross man, and he shook +like a jelly when the parrot had the sentence correctly. Simmons, +however, shook with rage, for all the room were laughing at him--the +parrot was such a disreputable puff of green feathers and it looked so +human when it chattered. Losson used to sit, swinging his fat legs, on +the side of the cot, and ask the parrot what it thought of Simmons. The +parrot would answer: "Simmons, ye so-oor." "Good boy," Losson used to +say, scratching the parrot's head; "ye 'ear that, Sim?" And Simmons +used to turn over on his stomach and make answer: "I 'ear. Take 'eed you +don't 'ear something one of these days." + +In the restless nights, after he had been asleep all day, fits of blind +rage came upon Simmons and held him till he trembled all over, while he +thought in how many different ways he would slay Losson. Sometimes +he would picture himself trampling the life out of the man with heavy +ammunition-boots, and at others smashing in his face with the butt, and +at others jumping on his shoulders and dragging the head back till the +neckbone cracked. Then his mouth would feel hot and fevered, and he +would reach out for another sup of the beer in the pannikin. + +But the fancy that came to him most frequently and stayed with him +longest was one connected with the great roll of fat under Losson's +right ear. He noticed it first on a moonlight night, and thereafter +it was always before his eyes. It was a fascinating roll of fat. A man +could get his hand upon it and tear away one side of the neck; or he +could place the muzzle of a rifle on it and blow away all the head in +a flash. Losson had no right to be sleek and contented and well-to-do, +when he, Simmons, was the butt of the room. Some day, perhaps, he would +show those who laughed at the "Simmons, ye so-oor" joke, that he was as +good as the rest, and held a man's life in the crook of his forefinger. +When Losson snored, Simmons hated him more bitterly than ever. Why +should Losson be able to sleep when Simmons had to stay awake hour after +hour, tossing and turning on the tapes, with the dull liver pain gnawing +into his right side and his head throbbing and aching after Canteen? +He thought over this for many, many nights, and the world became +unprofitable to him. He even blunted his naturally fine appetite with +beer and tobacco; and all the while the parrot talked at and made a mock +of him. + +The heat continued and the tempers wore away more quickly than before. +A Sergeant's wife died of heat-apoplexy in the night, and the rumour ran +abroad that it was cholera. Men rejoiced openly, hoping that it would +spread and send them into camp. But that was a false alarm. + +It was late on a Tuesday evening, and the men were waiting in the deep +double verandahs for "Last Post," when Simmons went to the box at the +foot of his bed, took out his pipe, and slammed the lid down with a +bang that echoed through the deserted barrack like the crack of a rifle. +Ordinarily speaking, the men would have taken no notice; but their +nerves were fretted to fiddle-strings. They jumped up, and three or four +clattered into the barrack-room only to find Simmons kneeling by his +box. + +"Ow! It's you, is it?" they said, and laughed foolishly. "We thought +'twas--" + +Simmons rose slowly. If the accident had so shaken his fellows, what +would not the reality do? + +"You thought it was--did you? And what makes you think?" he said, +lashing himself into madness as he went on; "to Hell with your thinking, +ye dirty spies!" + +"Simmons, ye so-oor," chuckled the parrot in the verandah sleepily, +recognising a well-known voice. Now that was absolutely all. + +The tension snapped. Simmons fell back on the arm-rack +deliberately,--the men were at the far end of the room,--and took out +his rifle and packet of ammunition. "Don't go playing the goat, Sim!" +said Losson. "Put it down," but there was a quaver in his voice. Another +man stooped, slipped his boot, and hurled it at Simmons's head. The +prompt answer was a shot which, fired at random, found its billet in +Losson's throat. Losson fell forward without a word, and the others +scattered. + +"You thought it was!" yelled Simmons. "You're drivin' me to it! I tell +you you're drivin' me to it! Get up, Losson, an' don't lie shammin' +there--you an' your blasted parrit that druv me to it!" + +But there was an unaffected reality about Losson's pose that showed +Simmons what he had done. The men were still clamouring in the verandah. +Simmons appropriated two more packets of ammunition and ran into the +moonlight, muttering: "I'll make a night of it. Thirty roun's, an' the +last for myself. Take you that, you dogs!" + +He dropped on one knee and fired into the brown of the men on the +verandah, but the bullet flew high, and landed in the brickwork with a +vicious phwit that made some of the younger ones turn pale. It is, as +musketry theorists observe, one thing to fire and another to be fired +at. + +Then the instinct of the chase flared up. The news spread from barrack +to barrack, and the men doubled out intent on the capture of Simmons, +the wild beast, who was heading for the Cavalry parade-ground, stopping +now and again to send back a shot and a curse in the direction of his +pursuers. + +"I'll learn you to spy on me!" he shouted; "I'll learn you to give me +dorg's names! Come on, the 'ole lot o' you! Colonel John Anthony Deever, +C. B.!"--he turned towards the Infantry Mess and shook his rifle--"you +think yourself the devil of a man--but I tell you that if you put your +ugly old carcass outside o' that door, I'll make you the poorest-lookin' +man in the army. Come out, Colonel John Anthony Deever, C. B.! Come +Out and see me practiss on the rainge. I'm the crack shot of the 'ole +bloomin' battalion." In proof of which statement Simmons fired at the +lighted windows of the mess-house. + +"Private Simmons, E Comp'ny, on the Cavalry p'rade-ground, Sir, with +thirty rounds," said a Sergeant breathlessly to the Colonel. "Shootin' +right and lef', Sir. Shot Private Losson. What's to be done, Sir?" + +Colonel John Anthony Deever, C. B., sallied out, only to be saluted by a +spurt of dust at his feet. + +"Pull up!" said the Second in Command; "I don't want my step in that +way, Colonel. He's as dangerous as a mad dog." + +"Shoot him like one, then," said the Colonel bitterly, "if he won't take +his chance. My regiment, too! If it had been the Towheads I could have +understood." + +Private Simmons had occupied a strong position near a well on the edge +of the parade-ground, and was defying the regiment to come on. The +regiment was not anxious to comply, for there is small honour in being +shot by a fellow-private. Only Corporal Slane, rifle in hand, threw +himself down on the ground, and wormed his way towards the well. + +"Don't shoot," said he to the men round him; "like as not you'll 'it me. +I'll catch the beggar livin'." + +Simmons ceased shouting for a while, and th noise of trap-wheels could +be heard across the plain. Major Oldyne, Commanding the Horse Battery, +was coming back from a dinner in the Civil Lines; was driving after his +usual custom--that is to say, as fast as the horse could go. + +"A orf'cer! A blooming spangled orf'cer!" shrieked Simmons; "I'll make a +scarecrow of that orf'cer!" The trap stopped. + +"What's this?" demanded the Major of Gunners. "You there, drop your +rifle." + +"Why, it's Jerry Blazes! I ain't got no quarrel with you, Jerry Blazes. +Pass, frien', an' all's well!" + +But Jerry Blazes had not the faintest intention of passing a dangerous +murderer. He was, as his adoring Battery swore long and fervently, +without knowledge of fear, and they were surely the best judges, for +Jerry Blazes, it was notorious, had done his possible to kill a man each +time the Battery went out. + +He walked towards Simmons, with the intention of rushing him and +knocking him down. + +"Don't make me do it, Sir," said Simmons; "I ain't got nothing ag'in' +you. Ah! you would?"--the Major broke into a run--"Take that, then!" + +The Major dropped with a bullet through his shoulder, and Simmons stood +over him. He had lost the satisfaction of killing Losson in the desired +way: but here was a helpless body to his hand. Should he slip in another +cartridge, and blow off the head, or with the butt smash in the white +face? He stopped to consider, and a cry went up from the far side of +the parade-ground: "He's killed Jerry Blazes!" But in the shelter of the +well-pillars Simmons was safe, except when he stepped out to fire. "I'll +blow yer 'andsome 'ead off, Jerry Blazes," said Simmons reflectively. +"Six and three is nine an' one is ten, an' that leaves me another +nineteen, an' one for myself" He tugged at the string of the second +packet of ammunition. Corporal Slane crawled out of the shadow of a bank +into the moonlight. + +"I see you!" said Simmons. "Come a bit furder on an' I'll do for you." + +"I'm comin'," said Corporal Slane briefly; "you've done a bad day's +work, Sim. Come out 'ere an' come back with me." + +"Come to," laughed Simmons, sending a cartridge home with his thumb. +"Not before I've settled you an' Jerry Blazes." + +The Corporal was lying at full length in the dust of the parade-ground, +a rifle under him. Some of the less cautious men in the distance +shouted: "Shoot 'im! Shoot 'im, Slane!" + +"You move 'and or foot, Slane," said Simmons, "an' I'll kick Jerry +Blazes' 'ead in, and shoot you after." + +"I ain't movin'," said the Corporal, raising his head; "you daren't 'it +a man on 'is legs. Let go o' Jerry Blazes an' come out o' that with your +fistes. Come an' 'it me. You daren't, you bloomin' dog-shooter!" + +"I dare." + +"You lie, you man-sticker. You sneakin', Sheeny butcher, you lie. See +there!" Slane kicked the rifle away, and stood up in the peril of his +life. "Come on, now!" + +The temptation was more than Simmons could resist, for the Corporal in +his white clothes offered a perfect mark. + +"Don't misname me," shouted Simmons, firing as he spoke. The shot +missed, and the shooter, blind with rage, threw his rifle down and +rushed at Slane from the protection of the well. Within striking +distance, he kicked savagely at Slane's stomach, but the weedy Corporal +knew something of Simmons's weakness, and knew, too, the deadly guard +for that kick. Bowing forward and drawing up his right leg till the heel +of the right foot was set some three inches above the inside of the left +knee-cap, he met the blow standing on one leg--exactly as Gonds stand +when they meditate--and ready for the fall that would follow. There +was an oath, the Corporal fell over to his own left as shinbone met +shinbone, and the Private collapsed, his right leg broken an inch above +the ankle. + +"Pity you don't know that guard, Sim," said Slane, spitting out the dust +as he rose. Then raising his voice--"Come an' take him on. I've bruk 'is +leg." This was not strictly true, for the Private had accomplished his +own downfall, since it is the special merit of that leg-guard that the +harder the kick the greater the kicker's discomfiture. + +Slane walked to Jerry Blazes and hung over him with ostentatious +anxiety, while Simmons, weeping with pain, was carried away. "'Ope you +ain't 'urt badly, Sir," said Slane. The Major had fainted, and there was +an ugly, ragged hole through the top of his arm. Slane knelt down +and murmured: "S'elp me, I believe 'e's dead. Well, if that ain't my +blooming luck all over!" + +But the Major was destined to lead his Battery afield for many a long +day with unshaken nerve. He was removed, and nursed and petted into +convalescence, while the Battery discussed the wisdom of capturing +Simmons and blowing him from a gun. They idolised their Major, and his +reappearance on parade brought about a scene nowhere provided for in the +Army Regulations. + +Great, too, was the glory that fell to Slane's share. The Gunners would +have made him drunk thrice a day for at least a fortnight. Even the +Colonel of his own regiment complimented him upon his coolness, and the +local paper called him a hero. These things did not puff him up. When +the Major offered him money and thanks, the virtuous Corporal took the +one and put aside the other. But he had a request to make and prefaced +it with many a "Beg y' pardon, Sir." Could the Major see his way to +letting the Slane-M'Kenna wedding be adorned by the presence of four +Battery horses to pull a hired barouche? The Major could, and so could +the Battery. Excessively so. It was a gorgeous wedding. + +"Wot did I do it for?" said Corporal Slane. "For the 'orses o' course. +Jhansi ain't a beauty to look at, but I wasn't goin' to 'ave a hired +turnout. Jerry Blazes? If I 'adn't 'a' wanted something, Sim might ha' +blowed Jerry Blazes' blooming 'ead into Hirish stew for aught I'd 'a' +cared." + + +And they hanged Private Simmons--hanged him as high as Haman in hollow +square of the regiment; and the Colonel said it was Drink; and the +Chaplain was sure it was the Devil; and Simmons fancied it was both, +but he didn't know, and only hoped his fate would be a warning to +his companions; and half a dozen "intelligent publicists" wrote six +beautiful leading articles on "The Prevalence of Crime in the Army." + +But not a soul thought of comparing the "bloody-minded Simmons" to the +squawking, gaping school-girl with which this story opens. + + + + +THE LOST LEGION + +When the Indian Mutiny broke out, and a little time before the siege of +Delhi, a regiment of Native Irregular Horse was stationed at Peshawur on +the frontier of India. That regiment caught what John Lawrence called +at the time "the prevalent mania," and would have thrown in its lot with +the mutineers, had it been allowed to do so. The chance never came, for, +as the regiment swept off down south, it was headed off by a remnant +of an English corps into the hills of Afghanistan, and there the newly +conquered tribesmen turned against it as wolves turn against buck. It +was hunted for the sake of its arms and accoutrements from hill to hill, +from ravine to ravine, up and down the dried beds of rivers and round +the shoulders of bluffs, till it disappeared as water sinks in the +sand--this officerless rebel regiment. The only trace left of its +existence to-day is a nominal roll drawn up in neat round hand and +countersigned by an officer who called himself, "Adjutant, late +Irregular Cavalry." The paper is yellow with years and dirt, but on the +back of it you can still read a pencil-note by John Lawrence, to this +effect: "See that the two native officers who remained loyal are not +deprived of their estates.--J. L." Of six hundred and fifty sabres only +two stood strain, and John Lawrence in the midst of all the agony of the +first months of the Mutiny found time to think about their merits. + +That was more than thirty years ago, and the tribesmen across the Afghan +border who helped to annihilate the regiment are now old men. Sometimes +a graybeard speaks of his share in the massacre. "They came," he will +say, "across the border, very proud, calling upon us to rise and kill +the English, and go down to the sack of Delhi. But we who had just been +conquered by the same English knew that they were over-bold, and that +the Government could account easily for those down-country dogs. This +Hindustani regiment, therefore, we treated with fair words, and kept +standing in one place till the redcoats came after them very hot and +angry. Then this regiment ran forward a little more into our hills to +avoid the wrath of the English, and we lay upon their flanks watching +from the sides of the hills till we were well assured that their path +was lost behind them. Then we came down, for we desired their clothes, +and their bridles, and their rifles, and their boots--more especially +their boots. That was a great killing--done slowly." Here the old man +will rub his nose, and shake his long snaky locks, and lick his bearded +lips, and grin till the yellow tooth-stumps show. "Yea, we killed them +because we needed their gear, and we knew that their lives had been +forfeited to God on account of their sin--the sin of treachery to the +salt which they had eaten. They rode up and down the valleys, stumbling +and rocking in their saddles, and howling for mercy. We drove them +slowly like cattle till they were all assembled in one place, the flat +wide valley of Sheor Kit. Many had died from want of water, but there +still were many left, and they could not make any stand. We went among +them pulling them down with our hands two at a time, and our boys killed +them who were new to the sword. My share of the plunder was such and +such--so many guns, and so many saddles. The guns were good in those +days. Now we steal the Government rifles, and despise smooth barrels. +Yes, beyond doubt we wiped that regiment from off the face of the earth, +and even the memory of the deed is now dying. But men say--" + +At this point the tale would stop abruptly, and it was impossible to +find out what men said across the border. The Afghans were always a +secretive race, and vastly preferred doing something wicked to saying +anything at all. They would be quiet and well-behaved for months, till +one night, without word or warning, they would rush a police-post, cut +the throats of a constable or two, dash through a village, carry away +three or four women, and withdraw, in the red glare of burning thatch, +driving the cattle and goats before them to their own desolate hills. +The Indian Government would become almost tearful on these occasions. +First it would say, "Please be good and we'll forgive you." The tribe +concerned in the latest depredation would collectively put its thumb to +its nose and answer rudely. Then the Government would say: "Hadn't you +better pay up a little money for those few corpses you left behind you +the other night?" Here the tribe would temporise, and lie and bully, +and some of the younger men, merely to show contempt of authority, would +raid another police-post and fire into some frontier mud-fort, and, if +lucky, kill a real English officer. Then the Government would say:-- + +"Observe; if you really persist in this line of conduct, you will be +hurt." If the tribe knew exactly what was going on in India, it would +apologise or be rude, according as it learned whether the Government +was busy with other things or able to devote its full attention to +their performances. Some of the tribes knew to one corpse how far to go. +Others became excited, lost their heads, and told the Government to come +on. With sorrow and tears, and one eye on the British taxpayer at home, +who insisted on regarding these exercises as brutal wars of annexation, +the Government would prepare an expensive little field-brigade and some +guns, and send all up into the hills to chase the wicked tribe out of +the valleys, where the corn grew, into the hill-tops, where there was +nothing to eat. The tribe would turn out in full strength and enjoy the +campaign, for they knew that their women would never be touched, that +their wounded would be nursed, not mutilated, and that as soon as each +man's bag of corn was spent they could surrender and palaver with the +English General as though they had been a real enemy. Afterwards, years +afterwards, they would pay the blood-money, driblet by driblet, to the +Government, and tell their children how they had slain the redcoats by +thousands. The only drawback to this kind of picnic-war was the weakness +of the redcoats for solemnly blowing up with powder their fortified +towers and keeps. This the tribes always considered mean. + +Chief among the leaders of the smaller tribes--the little clans who +knew to a penny the expense of moving white troops against them--was +a priest-bandit-chief whom we will call the Gulla Kutta Mullah. His +enthusiasm for Border murder as an art was almost dignified. He would +cut down a mail-runner from pure wantonness, or bombard a mud-fort with +rifle-fire when he knew that our men needed to sleep. In his leisure +moments he would go on circuit among his neighbours, and try to +incite other tribes to devilry. Also, he kept a kind of hotel for +fellow-outlaws in his own village, which lay in a valley called Bersund. +Any respectable murderer on that section of the frontier was sure to lie +up at Bersund, for it was reckoned an exceedingly safe place. The sole +entry to it ran through a narrow gorge which could be converted into a +death-trap in five minutes. It was surrounded by high hills, reckoned +inaccessible to all save born mountaineers, and here the Gulla Kutta +Mullah lived in great state, the head of a colony of mud and stone huts, +and in each mud hut hung some portion of a red uniform and the plunder +of dead men. The Government particularly wished for his capture, and +once invited him formally to come out and be hanged on account of the +many murders in which he had taken a direct part. He replied:-- + +"I am only twenty miles, as the crow flies, from your border. Come and +fetch me." + +"Some day we will come," said the Government, "and hanged you will be." + +The Gulla Kutta Mullah let the matter slip from his mind. He knew that +the patience of the Government was as long as a summer day; but he +did not realise that its arm was as long as a winter night. Months +afterwards, when there was peace on the border, and all India was quiet, +the Indian Government turned in its sleep and remembered the Gulla Kutta +Mullah at Bersund, with his thirteen outlaws. The movement against him +of one single regiment--which the telegrams would have translated as +war--would have been highly impolitic. This was a time for silence and +speed, and, above all, absence of bloodshed. + +You must know that all along the north-west frontier of India there is +spread a force of some thirty thousand foot and horse, whose duty it is +to quietly and unostentatiously shepherd the tribes in front of them. +They move up and down, and down and up, from one desolate little post to +another; they are ready to take the field at ten minutes' notice; they +are always half in and half out of a difficulty somewhere along the +monotonous line; their lives are as hard as their own muscles, and the +papers never say anything about them. It was from this force that the +Government picked its men. + +One night, at a station where the mounted Night Patrol fire as they +challenge, and the wheat rolls in great blue-green waves under our cold +northern moon, the officers were playing billiards in the mud-walled +club-house, when orders came to them that they were to go on parade at +once for a night-drill. They grumbled, and went to turn out their men--a +hundred English troops, let us say, two hundred Goorkhas, and about a +hundred cavalry of the finest native cavalry in the world. + +When they were on the parade-ground, it was explained to them in +whispers that they must set off at once across the hills to Bersund. The +English troops were to post themselves round the hills at the side of +the valley; the Goorkhas would command the gorge and the death-trap, and +the cavalry would fetch a long march round and get to the back of the +circle of hills, whence, if there were any difficulty, they could charge +down on the Mullah's men. But orders were very strict that there should +be no fighting and no noise. They were to return in the morning with +every round of ammunition intact, and the Mullah and the thirteen +outlaws bound in their midst. If they were successful, no one would know +or care anything about their work; but failure meant probably a small +border war, in which the Gulla Kutta Mullah would pose as a popular +leader against a big bullying power, instead of a common Border +murderer. + +Then there was silence, broken only by the clicking of the +compass-needles and snapping of watch-cases, as the heads of columns +compared bearings and made appointments for the rendezvous. Five minutes +later the parade-ground was empty; the green coats of the Goorkhas and +the overcoats of the English troops had faded into the darkness, and the +cavalry were cantering away in the face of a blinding drizzle. + +What the Goorkhas and the English did will be seen later on. The heavy +work lay with the horses, for they had to go far and pick their way +clear of habitations. Many of the troopers were natives of that part of +the world, ready and anxious to fight against their kin, and some of +the officers had made private and unofficial excursions into those hills +before. They crossed the border, found a dried river-bed, cantered up +that, walked through a stony gorge, risked crossing a low hill under +cover of the darkness, skirted another hill, leaving their hoof-marks +deep in some ploughed ground, felt their way along another water-course, +ran over the neck of a spur praying that no one would hear their horses +grunting, and so worked on in the rain and the darkness till they had +left Bersund and its crater of hills a little behind them, and to the +left, and it was time to swing round. The ascent commanding the back +of Bersund was steep, and they halted to draw breath in a broad level +valley below the height. That is to say, the men reined up, but the +horses, blown as they were, refused to halt. There was unchristian +language, the worse for being delivered in a whisper, and you heard the +saddles squeaking in the darkness as the horses plunged. + +The subaltern at the rear of one troop turned in his saddle and said +very softly:-- + +"Carter, what the blessed heavens are you doing at the rear? Bring your +men up, man." + +There was no answer, till a trooper replied:-- + +"Carter Sahib is forward--not here. There is nothing behind us." + +"There is," said the subaltern. "The squadron's walking on its own +tail." + +Then the Major in command moved down to the rear, swearing softly and +asking for the blood of Lieutenant Halley--the subaltern who had just +spoken. + +"Look after your rearguard," said the Major. "Some of your infernal +thieves have got lost. They're at the head of the squadron, and you're a +several kinds of idiot." + +"Shall I tell off my men, sir?" said the subaltern sulkily, for he was +feeling wet and cold. + +"Tell 'em off!" said the Major. "Whip 'em off, by Gad! You're +squandering them all over the place. There's a troop behind you now!" + +"So I was thinking," said the subaltern calmly. "I have all my men here, +sir. Better speak to Carter." + +"Carter Sahib sends salaam and wants to know why the regiment is +stopping," said a trooper to Lieutenant Halley. + +"Where under heaven is Carter," said the Major. + +"Forward with his troop," was the answer. + +"Are we walking in a ring, then, or are we the centre of a blessed +brigade?" said the Major. + +By this time there was silence all along the column. The horses were +still; but, through the drive of the fine rain, men could hear the feet +of many horses moving over stony ground. + +"We're being stalked," said Lieutenant Halley. + +"They've no horses here. Besides they'd have fired before this," said +the Major. "It's--it's villagers' ponies." + +"Then our horses would have neighed and spoilt the attack long ago. They +must have been near us for half an hour," said the subaltern. + +"Queer that we can't smell the horses," said the Major, damping his +finger and rubbing it on his nose as he sniffed up wind. + +"Well, it's a bad start," said the subaltern, shaking the wet from his +overcoat. "What shall we do, sir?" + +"Get on," said the Major. "We shall catch it to-night." + +The column moved forward very gingerly for a few paces. Then there was +an oath, a shower of blue sparks as shod hooves crashed on small stones, +and a man rolled over with a jangle of accoutrements that would have +waked the dead. + +"Now we've gone and done it," said Lieutenant Halley. "All the hillside +awake and all the hillside to climb in the face of musketry-fire! This +comes of trying to do night-hawk work." + +The trembling trooper picked himself up and tried to explain that his +horse had fallen over one of the little cairns that are built of loose +stones on the spot where a man has been murdered. There was no need to +give reasons. The Major's big Australian charger blundered next, and the +column came to a halt in what seemed to be a very graveyard of little +cairns, all about two feet high. The manoeuvres of the squadron are not +reported. Men said that it felt like mounted quadrilles without training +and without the music; but at last the horses, breaking rank and +choosing their own way, walked clear of the cairns, till every man of +the squadron reformed and drew rein a few yards up the slope of the +hill. Then, according to Lieutenant Halley, there was another scene very +like the one which has been described. The Major and Carter insisted +that all the men had not joined rank, and that there were more of +them in the rear, clicking and blundering among the dead men's cairns. +Lieutenant Halley told off his own troopers again and resigned himself +to wait. Later on he said to me: + +"I didn't much know and I didn't much care what was going on. The row of +that trooper falling ought to have scared half the country, and I would +take my oath that we were being stalked by a full regiment in the rear, +and they were making row enough to rouse all Afghanistan. I sat tight, +but nothing happened." + +The mysterious part of the night's work was the silence on the hillside. +Everybody knew that the Gulla Kutta Mullah had his outpost-huts on the +reverse side of the hill, and everybody expected, by the time that the +Major had sworn himself into quiet, that the watchmen there would open +fire. When nothing happened, they said that the gusts of the rain had +deadened the sound of the horses, and thanked Providence. At last the +Major satisfied himself (a) that he had left no one behind among the +cairns, and (b) that he was not being taken in the rear by a large and +powerful body of cavalry. The men's tempers were thoroughly spoiled, +the horses were lathered and unquiet, and one and all prayed for the +daylight. + +They set themselves to climb up the hill, each man leading his mount +carefully. Before they had covered the lower slopes or the breast-plates +had begun to tighten, a thunderstorm came up behind, rolling across the +low hills and drowning any noise less than that of cannon. The +first flash of the lightning showed the bare ribs of the ascent, the +hill-crest standing steely-blue against the black sky, the little +falling lines of the rain, and, a few yards to their left flank, an +Afghan watch-tower, two-storied, built of stone, and entered by a ladder +from the upper story. The ladder was up, and a man with a rifle was +leaning from the window. The darkness and the thunder rolled down in +an instant, and, when the lull followed, a voice from the watch-tower +cried, "Who goes there?" + +The cavalry were very quiet, but each man gripped his carbine and stood +beside his horse. Again the voice called, "Who goes there?" and in a +louder key, "O brothers, give the alarm!" Now, every man in the cavalry +would have died in his long boots sooner than have asked for quarter, +but it is a fact that the answer to the second call was a long wail of +"Marf karo! Marf karo!" which means, "Have mercy! Have mercy!" It came +from the climbing regiment. + +The cavalry stood dumbfoundered, till the big troopers had time to +whisper one to another: "Mir Khan, was that thy voice? Abdullah, didst +thou call?" Lieutenant Halley stood beside his charger and waited. +So long as no firing was going on he was content. Another flash of +lightning showed the horses with heaving flanks and nodding heads; the +men, white eye-balled, glaring beside them, and the stone watch-tower +to the left. This time there was no head at the window, and the rude +iron-clamped shutter that could turn a rifle-bullet was closed. + +"Go on, men," said the Major. "Get up to the top at any rate!" The +squadron toiled forward, the horses wagging their tails and the men +pulling at the bridles, the stones rolling down the hillside and the +sparks flying. Lieutenant Halley declares that he never heard a squadron +make so much noise in his life. They scrambled up, he said, as though +each horse had eight legs and a spare horse to follow him. Even then +there was no sound from the watch-tower, and the men stopped exhausted +on the ridge that overlooked the pit of darkness in which the village +of Bersund lay. Girths were loosed, curb-chains shifted, and saddles +adjusted, and the men dropped down among the stones. Whatever might +happen now, they held the upper ground of any attack. + +The thunder ceased, and with it the rain, and the soft thick darkness of +a winter night before the dawn covered them all. Except for the sound of +falling water among the ravines below, everything was still. They heard +the shutter of the watch-tower below them thrown back with a clang, and +the voice of the watcher calling, "Oh, Hafiz Ullah!" + +The echoes took up the call, "La-la-la!" and an answer came from the +watch-tower hidden round the curve of the hill, "What is it, Shahbaz +Khan?" + +Shahbaz Khan replied in the high-pitched voice of the mountaineer: "Hast +thou seen?" + +The answer came back: "Yes. God deliver us from all evil spirits!" + +There was a pause, and then: "Hafiz Ullah, I am alone! Come to me." + +"Shahbaz Khan, I am alone also; but I dare not leave my post!" + +"That is a lie; thou art afraid." + +A longer pause followed, and then: "I am afraid. Be silent! They are +below us still. Pray to God and sleep." + +The troopers listened and wondered, for they could not understand what +save earth and stone could lie below the watch-towers. + +Shahbaz Khan began to call again: "They are below us. I can see them! +For the pity of God come over to me, Hafiz Ullah! My father slew ten of +them. Come over!" + +Hafiz Ullah answered in a very loud voice, "Mine was guiltless. Hear, +ye Men of the Night, neither my father nor my blood had any part in that +sin. Bear thou thine own punishment, Shahbaz Khan." + +"Oh, some one ought to stop those two chaps crowing away like cocks +there," said the Lieutenant, shivering under his rock. + +He had hardly turned round to expose a new side of him to the rain +before a bearded, long-locked, evil-smelling Afghan rushed up the hill, +and tumbled into his arms. Halley sat upon him, and thrust as much of a +sword-hilt as could be spared down the man's gullet. "If you cry out, I +kill you," he said cheerfully. + +The man was beyond any expression of terror. He lay and quaked, gasping. +When Halley took the sword-hilt from between his teeth, he was still +inarticulate, but clung to Halley's arm, feeling it from elbow to wrist. + +"The Rissala! The dead Rissala!" he gasped, "It is down there!" + +"No; the Rissala, the very much alive Rissala. It is up here," said +Halley, unshipping his watering-bridle and fastening the man's hands. +"Why were you in the towers so foolish as to let us pass?" + +"The valley is full of the dead," said the Afghan. "It is better to fall +into the hands of the English than the hands of the dead. They march to +and fro below there. I saw them in the lightning." + +He recovered his composure after a little, and whispering, because +Halley's pistol was at his stomach, said: "What is this? There is no war +between us now, and the Mullah will kill me for not seeing you pass!" + +"Rest easy," said Halley; "we are coming to kill the Mullah, if God +please. His teeth have grown too long. No harm will come to thee unless +the daylight shows thee as a face which is desired by the gallows for +crime done. But what of the dead regiment?" + +"I only kill within my own border," said the man, immensely relieved. +"The dead regiment is below. The men must have passed through it on +their journey--four hundred dead on horses, stumbling among their own +graves, among the little heaps--dead men all, whom we slew." + +"Whew!" said Halley. "That accounts for my cursing Carter and the Major +cursing me. Four hundred sabres, eh? No wonder we thought there were +a few extra men in the troop. Kurruk Shah," he whispered to a grizzled +native officer that lay within a few feet of him, "hast thou heard +anything of a dead Rissala in these hills? + +"Assuredly," said Kurruk Shah with a grim chuckle. "Otherwise, why did +I, who have served the Queen for seven-and-twenty years, and killed many +hill-dogs, shout aloud for quarter when the lightning revealed us to the +watch-towers? When I was a young man I saw the killing in the valley of +Sheor-Kit there at our feet, and I know the tale that grew up therefrom. +But how can the ghosts of unbelievers prevail against us who are of the +Faith? Strap that dog's hands a little tighter, Sahib. An Afghan is like +an eel." + +"But a dead Rissala," said Halley, jerking his captive's wrist. "That +is foolish talk, Kurruk Shah. The dead are dead. Hold still, Sag." The +Afghan wriggled. + +"The dead are dead, and for that reason they walk at night. What need to +talk? We be men; we have our eyes and ears. Thou canst both see and hear +them down the hillside," said Kurruk Shah composedly. + +Halley stared and listened long and intently. The valley was full of +stifled noises, as every valley must be at night; but whether he saw or +heard more than was natural Halley alone knows, and he does not choose +to speak on the subject. + +At last, and just before the dawn, a green rocket shot up from the far +side of the valley of Bersund, at the head of the gorge, to show that +the Goorkhas were in position. A red light from the infantry at left +and right answered it, and the cavalry burnt a white flare. Afghans in +winter are late sleepers, and it was not till full day that the Gulla +Kutta Mullah's men began to straggle from their huts, rubbing their +eyes. They saw men in green, and red, and brown uniforms, leaning on +their arms, neatly arranged all round the crater of the village of +Bersund, in a cordon that not even a wolf could have broken. They rubbed +their eyes the more when a pink-faced young man, who was not even in +the Army, but represented the Political Department, tripped down the +hillside with two orderlies, rapped at the door of the Gulla Kutta +Mullah's house, and told him quietly to step out and be tied up for safe +transport. That same young man passed on through the huts, tapping here +one cateran and there another lightly with his cane; and as each was +pointed out, so he was tied up, staring hopelessly at the crowned +heights around where the English soldiers looked down with incurious +eyes. Only the Mullah tried to carry it off with curses and high words, +till a soldier who was tying his hands said:-- + +"None o' your lip! Why didn't you come out when you was ordered, +instead o' keeping us awake all night? You're no better than my own +barrack-sweeper, you white-'eaded old polyanthus! Kim up!" + +Half an hour later the troops had gone away with the Mullah and his +thirteen friends. The dazed villagers were looking ruefully at a pile of +broken muskets and snapped swords, and wondering how in the world they +had come so to miscalculate the forbearance of the Indian Government. + +It was a very neat little affair, neatly carried out, and the men +concerned were unofficially thanked for their services. + +Yet it seems to me that much credit is also due to another regiment +whose name did not appear in brigade orders, and whose very existence is +in danger of being forgotten. + + + + +THE DRUMS OF THE FORE AND AFT + +In the Army List they still stand as "The Fore and Fit Princess +Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen-Anspach's Merther-Tydfilshire Own Royal Loyal +Light Infantry, Regimental District 329A," but the Army through all its +barracks and canteens knows them now as the "Fore and Aft." They may +in time do something that shall make their new title honourable, but at +present they are bitterly ashamed, and the man who calls them "Fore and +Aft" does so at the risk of the head which is on his shoulders. + +Two words breathed into the stables of a certain Cavalry Regiment will +bring the men out into the streets with belts and mops and bad language; +but a whisper of "Fore and Aft" will bring out this regiment with +rifles. + +Their one excuse is that they came again and did their best to finish +the job in style. But for a time all their world knows that they were +openly beaten, whipped, dumb-cowed, shaking and afraid. The men know it; +their officers know it; the Horse Guards know it, and when the next war +comes the enemy will know it also. There are two or three regiments of +the Line that have a black mark against their names which they will then +wipe out; and it will be excessively inconvenient for the troops upon +whom they do their wiping. + +The courage of the British soldier is officially supposed to be above +proof, and, as a general rule, it is so. The exceptions are decently +shovelled out of sight, only to be referred to in the freshest of +unguarded talk that occasionally swamps a Mess-table at midnight. +Then one hears strange and horrible stories of men not following their +officers, of orders being given by those who had no right to give them, +and of disgrace that, but for the standing luck of the British Army, +might have ended in brilliant disaster. These are unpleasant stories to +listen to, and the Messes tell them under their breath, sitting by +the big wood fires, and the young officer bows his head and thinks to +himself, please God, his men shall never behave unhandily. + +The British soldier is not altogether to be blamed for occasional +lapses; but this verdict he should not know. A moderately intelligent +General will waste six months in mastering the craft of the particular +war that he may be waging; a Colonel may utterly misunderstand the +capacity of his regiment for three months after it has taken the field, +and even a Company Commander may err and be deceived as to the temper +and temperament of his own handful: wherefore the soldier, and the +soldier of to-day more particularly, should not be blamed for falling +back. He should be shot or hanged afterwards--to encourage the others; +but he should not be vilified in newspapers, for that is want of tact +and waste of space. + +He has, let us say, been in the service of the Empress for, perhaps, +four years. He will leave in another two years. He has no inherited +morals, and four years are not sufficient to drive toughness into his +fibre, or to teach him how holy a thing is his Regiment. He wants to +drink, he wants to enjoy himself--in India he wants to save money--and +he does not in the least like getting hurt. He has received just +sufficient education to make him understand half the purport of the +orders he receives, and to speculate on the nature of clean, incised, +and shattering wounds. Thus, if he is told to deploy under fire +preparatory to an attack, he knows that he runs a very great risk of +being killed while he is deploying, and suspects that he is being thrown +away to gain ten minutes' time. He may either deploy with desperate +swiftness, or he may shuffle, or bunch, or break, according to the +discipline under which he has lain for four years. + +Armed with imperfect knowledge, cursed with the rudiments of an +imagination, hampered by the intense selfishness of the lower classes, +and unsupported by any regimental associations, this young man is +suddenly introduced to an enemy who in eastern lands is always ugly, +generally tall and hairy, and frequently noisy. If he looks to the right +and the left and sees old soldiers--men of twelve years' service, +who, he knows, know what they are about--taking a charge, rush, or +demonstration without embarrassment, he is consoled and applies his +shoulder to the butt of his rifle with a stout heart. His peace is the +greater if he hears a senior, who has taught him his soldiering and +broken his head on occasion, whispering: "They'll shout and carry on +like this for five minutes. Then they'll rush in, and then we've got 'em +by the short hairs!" + +But, on the other hand, if he sees only men of his own term of service, +turning white and playing with their triggers and saying: "What the +Hell's up now?" while the Company Commanders are sweating into +their sword-hilts and shouting: "Front rank, fix bayonets. Steady +there--steady! Sight for three hundred--no, for five! Lie down, all! +Steady! Front rank kneel!" and so forth, he becomes unhappy, and grows +acutely miserable when he hears a comrade turn over with the rattle of +fire-irons falling into the fender, and the grunt of a pole-axed ox. If +he can be moved about a little and allowed to watch the effect of his +own fire on the enemy he feels merrier, and may be then worked up to +the blind passion of fighting, which is, contrary to general belief, +controlled by a chilly Devil and shakes men like ague. If he is not +moved about, and begins to feel cold at the pit of the stomach, and in +that crisis is badly mauled and hears orders that were never given, he +will break, and he will break badly, and of all things under the +light of the Sun there is nothing more terrible than a broken British +regiment. When the worst comes to the worst and the panic is really +epidemic, the men must be e'en let go, and the Company Commanders had +better escape to the enemy and stay there for safety's sake. If they can +be made to come again they are not pleasant men to meet; because they +will not break twice. + +About thirty years from this date, when we have succeeded in +half-educating everything that wears trousers, our Army will be a +beautifully unreliable machine. It will know too much and it will do too +little. Later still, when all men are at the mental level of the officer +of to-day, it will sweep the earth. Speaking roughly, you must employ +either blackguards or gentlemen, or, best of all, blackguards commanded +by gentlemen, to do butcher's work with efficiency and despatch. The +ideal soldier should, of course, think for himself--the "Pocket-book" +says so. Unfortunately, to attain this virtue, he has to pass through +the phase of thinking of himself, and that is misdirected genius. A +blackguard may be slow to think for himself, but he is genuinely anxious +to kill, and a little punishment teaches him how to guard his own skin +and perforate another's. A powerfully prayerful Highland Regiment, +officered by rank Presbyterians, is, perhaps, one degree more terrible +in action than a hard-bitten thousand of irresponsible Irish ruffians +led by most improper young unbelievers. But these things prove the +rule--which is that the midway men are not to be trusted alone. They have +ideas about the value of life and an upbringing that has not taught them +to go on and take the chances. They are carefully unprovided with a +backing of comrades who have been shot over, and until that backing is +re-introduced, as a great many Regimental Commanders intend it shall be, +they are more liable to disgrace themselves than the size of the Empire +or the dignity of the Army allows. Their officers are as good as good +can be, because their training begins early, and God has arranged that a +clean-run youth of the British middle classes shall, in the matter of +backbone, brains, and bowels, surpass all other youths. For this reason +a child of eighteen will stand up, doing nothing, with a tin sword in +his hand and joy in his heart until he is dropped. If he dies, he dies +like a gentleman. If he lives, he writes Home that he has been "potted," +"sniped," "chipped," or "cut over," and sits down to besiege Government +for a wound-gratuity until the next little war breaks out, when he +perjures himself before a Medical Board, blarneys his Colonel, burns +incense round his Adjutant, and is allowed to go to the Front once more. + +Which homily brings me directly to a brace of the most finished little +fiends that ever banged drum or tootled fife in the Band of a British +Regiment. They ended their sinful career by open and flagrant mutiny +and were shot for it. Their names were Jakin and Lew--Piggy Lew and +they were bold, bad drummer-boys, both of them frequently birched by the +Drum-Major of the Fore and Aft. + +Jakin was a stunted child of fourteen, and Lew was about the same age. +When not looked after, they smoked and drank. They swore habitually +after the manner of the Barrack-room, which is cold swearing and comes +from between clenched teeth, and they fought religiously once a week. +Jakin had sprung from some London gutter, and may or may not have +passed through Dr. Barnardo's hands ere he arrived at the dignity of +drummer-boy. Lew could remember nothing except the Regiment and the +delight of listening to the Band from his earliest years. He hid +somewhere in his grimy little soul a genuine love for music, and was +most mistakenly furnished with the head of a cherub: insomuch that +beautiful ladies who watched the Regiment in church were wont to speak +of him as a "darling." They never heard his vitriolic comments on their +manners and morals, as he walked back to barracks with the Band and +matured fresh causes of offence against Jakin. + +The other drummer-boys hated both lads on account of their illogical +conduct. Jakin might be pounding Lew, or Lew might be rubbing Jakin's +head in the dirt, but any attempt at aggression on the part of an +outsider was met by the combined forces of Lew and Jakin; and the +consequences were painful. The boys were the Ishmaels of the corps, but +wealthy Ishmaels, for they sold battles in alternate weeks for the sport +of the barracks when they were not pitted against other boys; and thus +amassed money. + +On this particular day there was dissension in the camp. They had just +been convicted afresh of smoking, which is bad for little boys who use +plug-tobacco, and Lew's contention was that Jakin had "stunk so +'orrid bad from keepin' the pipe in pocket," that he and he alone was +responsible for the birching they were both tingling under. + +"I tell you I 'id the pipe back o' barracks," said Jakin pacifically. + +"You're a bloomin' liar," said Lew without heat. + +"You're a bloomin' little barstard," said Jakin, strong in the knowledge +that his own ancestry was unknown. + +Now there is one word in the extended vocabulary of barrack-room abuse +that cannot pass without comment. You may call a man a thief and risk +nothing. You may even call him a coward without finding more than a boot +whiz past your ear, but you must not call a man a bastard unless you are +prepared to prove it on his front teeth. + +"You might ha' kep' that till I wasn't so sore," said Lew sorrowfully, +dodging round Jakin's guard. + +"I'll make you sorer," said Jakin genially, and got home on Lew's +alabaster forehead. All would have gone well and this story, as the +books say, would never have been written, had not his evil fate prompted +the Bazar-Sergeant's son, a long, employless man of five-and-twenty, to +put in an appearance after the first round. He was eternally in need of +money, and knew that the boys had silver. + +"Fighting again," said he. "I'll report you to my father, and he'll +report you to the Colour-Sergeant." + +"What's that to you?" said Jakin with an unpleasant dilation of the +nostrils. + +"Oh! nothing to me. You'll get into trouble, and you've been up too +often to afford that." + +"What the Hell do you know about what we've done?" asked Lew the Seraph. +"You aren't in the Army, you lousy, cadging civilian." + +He closed in on the man's left flank. + +"Jes' 'cause you find two gentlemen settlin' their diff'rences with +their fistes you stick in your ugly nose where you aren't wanted. Run +'ome to your 'arf-caste slut of a Ma--or we'll give you what-for," said +Jakin. + +The man attempted reprisals by knocking the boys' heads together. The +scheme would have succeeded had not Jakin punched him vehemently in +the stomach, or had Lew refrained from kicking his shins. They fought +together, bleeding and breathless, for half an hour, and, after heavy +punishment, triumphantly pulled down their opponent as terriers pull +down a jackal. + +"Now," gasped Jakin, "I'll give you what-for." He proceeded to pound +the man's features while Lew stamped on the outlying portions of his +anatomy. Chivalry is not a strong point in the composition of the +average drummer-boy. He fights, as do his betters, to make his mark. + +Ghastly was the ruin that escaped, and awful was the wrath of the +Bazar-Sergeant. Awful too was the scene in Orderly-room when the two +reprobates appeared to answer the charge of half-murdering a "civilian." +The Bazar-Sergeant thirsted for a criminal action, and his son lied. The +boys stood to attention while the black clouds of evidence accumulated. + +"You little devils are more trouble than the rest of the Regiment +put together," said the Colonel angrily. "One might as well admonish +thistledown, and I can't well put you in cells or under stoppages. You +must be birched again." + +"Beg y' pardon, Sir. Can't we say nothin' in our own defence, Sir?" +shrilled Jakin. + +"Hey! What? Are you going to argue with me?" said the Colonel. + +"No, Sir," said Lew. "But if a man come to you, Sir, and said he was +going to report you, Sir, for 'aving a bit of a turn-up with a friend, +Sir, an' wanted to get money out o' you, Sir-" + +The Orderly-room exploded in a roar of laughter. "Well?" said the +Colonel. + +"That was what that measly jarnwar there did, Sir, and 'e'd 'a' done it, +Sir, if we 'adn't prevented 'im. We didn't 'it 'im much, Sir. 'E 'adn't +no manner o' right to interfere with us, Sir. I don't mind bein' birched +by the Drum-Major, Sir, nor yet reported by any Corp'ral, but I'm--but +I don't think it's fair, Sir, for a civilian to come an' talk over a man +in the Army." + +A second shout of laughter shook the Orderly-room, but the Colonel was +grave. + +"What sort of characters have these boys?" he asked of the Regimental +Sergeant-Major. + +"Accordin' to the Bandmaster, Sir," returned that revered official--the +only soul in the Regiment whom the boys feared--"they do everything but +lie, Sir." + +"Is it like we'd go for that man for fun, Sir?" said Lew, pointing to +the plaintiff. + +"Oh, admonished--admonished!" said the Colonel testily, and when the +boys had gone he read the Bazar-Sergeant's son a lecture on the sin of +unprofitable meddling, and gave orders that the Bandmaster should keep +the Drums in better discipline. + +"If either of you come to practice again with so much as a scratch on +your two ugly little faces," thundered the Bandmaster, "I'll tell the +Drum-Major to take the skin off your backs. Understand that, you young +devils." + +Then he repented of his speech for just the length of time that Lew, +looking like a seraph in red worsted embellishments, took the place +of one of the trumpets--in hospital--and rendered the echo of a +battle-piece. Lew certainly was a musician, and had often in his more +exalted moments expressed a yearning to master every instrument of the +Band. + +"There's nothing to prevent your becoming a Bandmaster, Lew," said the +Bandmaster, who had composed waltzes of his own, and worked day and +night in the interests of the Band. + +"What did he say?" demanded Jakin after practice. + +"Said I might be a bloomin' Bandmaster, an' be asked in to 'ave a glass +o' sherry wine on Mess-nights." + +"Ho! 'Said you might be a bloomin' noncombatant, did 'e! That's just +about wot 'e would say. When I've put in my boy's service it's a +bloomin' shame that doesn't count for pension--I'll take on as a privit. +Then I'll be a Lance in a year--knowin' what I know about the ins an' +outs o' things. In three years I'll be a bloomin' Sergeant. I won't +marry then, not I! I'll 'old on and learn the orf'cers' ways an' apply +for exchange into a reg'ment that doesn't know all about me. Then I'll +be a bloomin' orf'cer. Then I'll ask you to 'ave a glass o' sherry wine, +Mister Lew, an' you'll bloomin' well 'ave to stay in the hanty-room +while the Mess-Sergeant brings it to your dirty 'ands." + +"S'pose I'm going to be a Bandmaster? Not I, quite. I'll be a orf'cer +too. There's nothin' like takin' to a thing an' stickin' to it, the +Schoolmaster says. The Reg'ment don't go 'ome for another seven years. +I'll be a Lance then or near to." + +Thus the boys discussed their futures, and conducted themselves +piously for a week. That is to say, Lew started a flirtation with the +Colour-Sergeant's daughter, aged thirteen--"not," as he explained to +Jakin, "with any intention o' matrimony, but by way o' keep in' my 'and +in." And the black-haired Cris Delighan enjoyed that flirtation more +than previous ones, and the other drummer-boys raged furiously together, +and Jakin preached sermons on the dangers of bein' tangled along o' +petticoats. + +But neither love nor virtue would have held Lew long in the paths of +propriety had not the rumour gone abroad that the Regiment was to be +sent on active service, to take part in a war which, for the sake of +brevity, we will call "The War of the Lost Tribes." + +The barracks had the rumour almost before the Mess-room, and of all the +nine hundred men in barracks, not ten had seen a shot fired in anger. +The Colonel had, twenty years ago, assisted at a Frontier expedition; +one of the Majors had seen service at the Cape; a confirmed deserter in +E Company had helped to clear streets in Ireland; but that was all. The +Regiment had been put by for many years. The overwhelming mass of +its rank and file had from three to four years' service; the +non-commissioned officers were under thirty years old; and men and +sergeants alike had forgotten to speak of the stories written in brief +upon the Colours--the New Colours that had been formally blessed by an +Archbishop in England ere the Regiment came away. They wanted to go to +the Front--they were enthusiastically anxious to go--but they had no +knowledge of what war meant, and there was none to tell them. They were +an educated regiment, the percentage of school-certificates in their +ranks was high, and most of the men could do more than read and write. +They had been recruited in loyal observance of the territorial idea; but +they themselves had no notion of that idea. They were made up of drafts +from an over-populated manufacturing district. The system had put flesh +and muscle upon their small bones, but it could not put heart into the +sons of those who for generations had done overmuch work for overscanty +pay, had sweated in drying-rooms, stooped over looms, coughed among +white-lead, and shivered on lime-barges. The men had found food and rest +in the Army, and now they were going to fight "niggers"--people who ran +away if you shook a stick at them. Wherefore they cheered lustily +when the rumour ran, and the shrewd, clerkly non-commissioned officers +speculated on the chances of batta and of saving their pay. At +Headquarters men said: "The Fore and Fit have never been under fire +within the last generation. Let us, therefore, break them in easily by +setting them to guard lines of communication." And this would have +been done but for the fact that British Regiments were wanted--badly +wanted--at the Front, and there were doubtful Native Regiments that +could fill the minor duties. "Brigade 'em with two strong Regiments," +said Headquarters. "They may be knocked about a bit, but they'll learn +their business before they come through. Nothing like a night-alarm and +a little cutting-up of stragglers to make a Regiment smart in the field. +Wait till they've had half a dozen sentries' throats cut." + +The Colonel wrote with delight that the temper of his men was excellent, +that the Regiment was all that could be wished, and as sound as a bell. +The Majors smiled with a sober joy, and the subalterns waltzed in +pairs down the Mess-room after dinner, and nearly shot themselves at +revolver-practice. But there was consternation in the hearts of Jakin +and Lew. What was to be done with the Drums? Would the Band go to the +Front? How many of the Drums would accompany the Regiment? + +They took counsel together, sitting in a tree and smoking. + +"It's more than a bloomin' toss-up they'll leave us be'ind at the Depot +with the women. You'll like that," said Jakin sarcastically. + +"Cause o' Cris, y' mean? Wot's a woman, or a 'ole bloomin' depot o' +women, 'longside o' the chanst of field-service? You know I'm as keen on +goin' as you," said Lew. + +"Wish I was a bloomin' bugler," said Jakin sadly. "They'll take Tom Kidd +along, that I can plaster a wall with, an' like as not they won't take +us." + +"Then let's go an' make Tom Kidd so bloomin' sick 'e can't bugle no +more. You 'old 'is 'ands an' I'll kick him," said Lew, wriggling on the +branch. + +"That ain't no good neither. We ain't the sort o' characters to presoom +on our rep'tations--they're bad. If they have the Band at the Depot we +don't go, and no error there. If they take the Band we may get cast for +medical unfitness. Are you medical fit, Piggy?" said Jakin, digging Lew +in the ribs with force. + +"Yus," said Lew with an oath. "The Doctor says your 'eart's weak through +smokin' on an empty stummick. Throw a chest an' I'll try yer." + +Jakin threw out his chest, which Lew smote with all his might. Jakin +turned very pale, gasped, crowed, screwed up his eyes, and said--"That's +all right." + +"You'll do," said Lew. "I've 'eard o' men dying when you 'it 'em fair on +the breastbone." + +"Don't bring us no nearer goin', though," said Jakin. "Do you know where +we're ordered?" + +"Gawd knows, an' 'E won't split on a pal. Somewheres up to the Front to +kill Paythans--hairy big beggars that turn you inside out if they get +'old o' you. They say their women are good-looking, too." + +"Any loot?" asked the abandoned Jakin. + +"Not a bloomin' anna, they say, unless you dig up the ground an' see +what the niggers 'ave 'id. They're a poor lot." Jakin stood upright on +the branch and gazed across the plain. + +"Lew," said he, "there's the Colonel coming. 'Colonel's a good old +beggar. Let's go an' talk to 'im." + +Lew nearly fell out of the tree at the audacity of the suggestion. Like +Jakin he feared not God, neither regarded he Man, but there are limits +even to the audacity of a drummer-boy, and to speak to a Colonel was-- + +But Jakin had slid down the trunk and doubled in the direction of the +Colonel. That officer was walking wrapped in thought and visions of a +C. B. yes, even a K. C. B., for had he not at command one of the best +Regiments of the Line--the Fore and Fit? And he was aware of two small +boys charging down upon him. Once before it had been solemnly reported +to him that "the Drums were in a state of mutiny," Jakin and Lew being +the ringleaders. This looked like an organised conspiracy. + +The boys halted at twenty yards, walked to the regulation four paces, +and saluted together, each as well set-up as a ramrod and little taller. + +The Colonel was in a genial mood; the boys appeared very forlorn and +unprotected on the desolate plain, and one of them was handsome. + +"Well!" said the Colonel, recognising them. "Are you going to pull me +down in the open? I'm sure I never interfere with you, even though"--he +sniffed suspiciously--"you have been smoking." + +It was time to strike while the iron was hot. Their hearts beat +tumultuously. + +"Beg y' pardon, Sir," began Jakin. "The Reg'ment's ordered on active +service, Sir?" + +"So I believe," said the Colonel courteously. + +"Is the Band goin', Sir?" said both together. Then, without pause, +"We're goin', Sir, ain't we?" + +"You!" said the Colonel, stepping back the more fully to take in the two +small figures. "You! You'd die in the first march." + +"No, we wouldn't, Sir. We can march with the Reg'ment anywheres--p'rade +an' anywhere else," said Jakin. + +"If Tom Kidd goes 'e'll shut up like a clasp-knife," said Lew. "Tom 'as +very-close veins in both 'is legs, Sir." + +"Very how much?" + +"Very-close veins, Sir. That's why they swells after long p'rade, Sir. +If 'e can go, we can go, Sir." + +Again the Colonel looked at them long and intently. + +"Yes, the Band is going," he said as gravely as though he had been +addressing a brother officer. "Have you any parents, either of you two?" + +"No, Sir," rejoicingly from Lew and Jakin. "We're both orphans, Sir. +There's no one to be considered of on our account, Sir." + +"You poor little sprats, and you want to go up to the Front with the +Regiment, do you? Why?" + +"I've wore the Queen's Uniform for two years," said Jakin. "It's very +'ard, Sir, that a man don't get no recompense for doin' of 'is dooty, +Sir." + +"An'--an' if I don't go, Sir," interrupted Lew, "the Bandmaster 'e says +'e'll catch an' make a bloo--a blessed musician o' me, Sir. Before I've +seen any service, Sir." + +The Colonel made no answer for a long time. Then he said quietly: "If +you're passed by the Doctor I dare say you can go. I shouldn't smoke if +I were you." + +The boys saluted and disappeared. The Colonel walked home and told +the story to his wife, who nearly cried over it. The Colonel was well +pleased. If that was the temper of the children, what would not the men +do? + +Jakin and Lew entered the boys' barrack-room with great stateliness, and +refused to hold any conversation with their comrades for at least ten +minutes. Then, bursting with pride, Jakin drawled: "I've bin intervooin' +the Colonel. Good old beggar is the Colonel. Says I to 'im, 'Colonel,' +says I, 'let me go to the Front, along o' the Reg'ment.--'To the Front +you shall go,' says 'e, 'an' I only wish there was more like you among +the dirty little devils that bang the bloomin' drums.' Kidd, if you +throw your 'courtrements at me for tellin' you the truth to your own +advantage, your legs'll swell." + +None the less there was a Battle-Royal in the barrack-room, for the boys +were consumed with envy and hate, and neither Jakin nor Lew behaved in +conciliatory wise. + +"I'm goin' out to say adoo to my girl," said Lew, to cap the climax. +"Don't none o' you touch my kit because it's wanted for active service; +me bein' specially invited to go by the Colonel." + +He strolled forth and whistled in the clump of trees at the back of +the Married Quarters till Cris came to him, and, the preliminary kisses +being given and taken, Lew began to explain the situation. + +"I'm goin' to the Front with the Reg'ment," he said valiantly. + +"Piggy, you're a little liar," said Cris, but her heart misgave her, for +Lew was not in the habit of lying. + +"Liar yourself, Cris," said Lew, slipping an arm round her. "I'm goin'. +When the Reg'ment marches out you'll see me with 'em, all galliant and +gay. Give us another kiss, Cris, on the strength of it." + +"If you'd on'y a-stayed at the Depot--where you ought to ha' bin--you +could get as many of 'em as--as you dam please," whimpered Cris, putting +up her mouth. + +"It's 'ard, Cris. I grant you it's 'ard, But what's a man to do? If I'd +a-stayed at the Depot, you wouldn't think anything of me." + +"Like as not, but I'd 'ave you with me, Piggy. An' all the thinkin' in +the world isn't like kissin'." + +"An' all the kissin' in the world isn't like 'avin' a medal to wear on +the front o' your coat." + +"You won't get no medal." + +"Oh, yus, I shall though. Me an' Jakin are the only acting-drummers +that'll be took along. All the rest is full men, an' we'll get our +medals with them." + +"They might ha' taken anybody but you, Piggy. You'll get killed--you're +so venturesome. Stay with me, Piggy darlin', down at the Depot, an' I'll +love you true, for ever." + +"Ain't you goin' to do that now, Cris? You said you was." + +"O' course I am, but th' other's more comfortable. Wait till you've +growed a bit, Piggy. You aren't no taller than me now." + +"I've bin in the Army for two years, an' I'm not goin' to get out of a +chanst o' seein' service, an' don't you try to make me do so. I'll come +back, Cris, an' when I take on as a man I'll marry you--marry you when +I'm a Lance." + +"Promise, Piggy." + +Lew reflected on the future as arranged by Jakin a short time +previously, but Cris's mouth was very near to his own. + +"I promise, s'elp me Gawd!" said he. + +Cris slid an arm round his neck. + +"I won't 'old you back no more, Piggy. Go away an' get your medal, an' +I'll make you a new button-bag as nice as I know how," she whispered. + +"Put some o' your 'air into it, Cris, an' I'll keep it in my pocket so +long's I'm alive." + +Then Cris wept anew, and the interview ended. Public feeling among the +drummer-boys rose to fever pitch, and the lives of Jakin and Lew became +unenviable. Not only had they been permitted to enlist two years before +the regulation boy's age--fourteen--but, by virtue, it seemed, of their +extreme youth, they were allowed to go to the Front--which thing had not +happened to acting-drummers within the knowledge of boy. The Band which +was to accompany the Regiment had been cut down to the regulation twenty +men, the surplus returning to the ranks. Jakin and Lew were attached to +the Band as supernumeraries, though they would much have preferred being +company buglers. + +"Don't matter much," said Jakin after the medical inspection. "Be +thankful that we're 'lowed to go at all. The Doctor 'e said that if we +could stand what we took from the Bazar-Sergeant's son we'd stand pretty +nigh anything." + +"Which we will," said Lew, looking tenderly at the ragged and ill-made +housewife that Cris had given him, with a lock of her hair worked into a +sprawling "L" upon the cover. + +"It was the best I could," she sobbed. "I wouldn't let mother nor the +Sergeant's tailor 'elp me. Keep it always, Piggy, an' remember I love +you true." + +They marched to the railway station, nine hundred and sixty strong, +and every soul in cantonments turned out to see them go. The drummers +gnashed their teeth at Jakin and Lew marching with the Band, the married +women wept upon the platform, and the Regiment cheered its noble self +black in the face. + +"A nice level lot," said the Colonel to the Second-in-Command as they +watched the first four companies entraining. + +"Fit to do anything," said the Second-in-Command enthusiastically. "But +it seems to me they're a thought too young and tender for the work in +hand. It's bitter cold up at the Front now." + +"They're sound enough," said the Colonel. "We must take our chance of +sick casualties." + +So they went northward, ever northward, past droves and droves of +camels, armies of camp-followers, and legions of laden mules, the throng +thickening day by day, till with a shriek the train pulled up at +a hopelessly congested junction where six lines of temporary track +accommodated six forty-waggon trains; where whistles blew, Babus +sweated, and Commissariat officers swore from dawn till far into the +night, amid the wind-driven chaff of the fodder-bales and the lowing of +a thousand steers. + +"Hurry up--you're badly wanted at the Front," was the message that +greeted the Fore and Aft, and the occupants of the Red Cross carriages +told the same tale. + +"Tisn't so much the bloomin' fightin'," gasped a headbound trooper +of Hussars to a knot of admiring Fore and Afts. "Tisn't so much the +bloomin' fightin', though there's enough o' that. It's the bloomin' +food an' the bloomin' climate. Frost all night 'cept when it hails, and +b'iling sun all day, and the water stinks fit to knock you down. I got +my 'ead chipped like a egg; I've got pneumonia too, an' my guts is all +out o' order. 'Tain't no bloomin' picnic in those parts, I can tell +you." + +"Wot are the niggers like?" demanded a private. + +"There's some prisoners in that train yonder. Go an' look at 'em. +They're the aristocracy o' the country. The common folk are a dashed +sight uglier. If you want to know what they fight with, reach under my +seat an' pull out the long knife that's there." + +They dragged out and beheld for the first time the grim, bone-handled, +triangular Afghan knife. It was almost as long as Lew. + +"That's the thing to j'int ye," said the trooper feebly. "It can take +off a man's arm at the shoulder as easy as slicing butter. I halved the +beggar that used that un, but there's more of his likes up above. They +don't understand thrustin', but they're devils to slice." + +The men strolled across the tracks to inspect the Afghan prisoners. +They were unlike any "niggers" that the Fore and Aft had ever met--these +huge, black-haired, scowling sons of the Beni-Israel. As the men stared +the Afghans spat freely and muttered one to another with lowered eyes. + +"My eyes! Wot awful swine!" said Jakin, who was in the rear of the +procession. "Say, ole man, how you got puckrowed, eh? Kiswasti you +wasn't hanged for your ugly face, hey?" + +The tallest of the company turned, his leg-irons clanking at the +movement, and stared at the boy. "See!" he cried to his fellows in +Pushto. "They send children against us. What a people, and what fools!" + +"Hya." said Jakin, nodding his head cheerily. "You go down-country. +Khana get, peenikapanee get--live like a bloomin' Raja ke marfik. That's +a better bandobust than baynit get it in your innards. Good-bye, ole +man. Take care o' your beautiful figure'ead, an' try to look kushy." + +The men laughed and fell in for their first march, when they began to +realise that a soldier's life is not all beer and skittles. They were +much impressed with the size and bestial ferocity of the niggers whom +they had now learned to call "Paythans," and more with the exceeding +discomfort of their own surroundings. Twenty old soldiers in the corps +would have taught them how to make themselves moderately snug at night, +but they had no old soldiers, and, as the troops on the line of march +said, "they lived like pigs." They learned the heart-breaking cussedness +of camp-kitchens and camels and the depravity of an E. P. tent and a +wither-wrung mule. They studied animalculae in water, and developed a +few cases of dysentery in their study. + +At the end of their third march they were disagreeably surprised by the +arrival in their camp of a hammered iron slug which, fired from a steady +rest at seven hundred yards, flicked out the brains of a private seated +by the fire. This robbed them of their peace for a night, and was the +beginning of a long-range fire carefully calculated to that end. In the +daytime they saw nothing except an unpleasant puff of smoke from a crag +above the line of march. At night there were distant spurts of flame and +occasional casualties, which set the whole camp blazing into the gloom +and, occasionally, into opposite tents. Then they swore vehemently and +vowed that this was magnificent but not war. + +Indeed it was not. The Regiment could not halt for reprisals against the +sharpshooters of the country-side. Its duty was to go forward and +make connection with the Scotch and Goorkha troops with which it +was brigaded. The Afghans knew this, and knew too, after their first +tentative shots, that they were dealing with a raw regiment Thereafter +they devoted themselves to the task of keeping the Fore and Aft on the +strain. Not for anything would they have taken equal liberties with a +seasoned corps--with the wicked little Goorkhas, whose delight it was to +lie out in the open on a dark night and stalk their stalkers--with the +terrible big men dressed in women's clothes, who could be heard praying +to their God in the night-watches, and whose peace of mind no amount +of "sniping" could shake--or with those vile Sikhs, who marched so +ostentatiously unprepared and who dealt out such grim reward to those +who tried to profit by that unpreparedness. This white regiment was +different--quite different. It slept like a hog, and, like a hog, +charged in every direction when it was roused. Its sentries walked with +a footfall that could be heard for a quarter of a mile; would fire at +anything that moved--even a driven donkey--and when they had once fired, +could be scientifically "rushed" and laid out a horror and an offence +against the morning sun. Then there were camp-followers who straggled +and could be cut up without fear. Their shrieks would disturb the white +boys, and the loss of their services would inconvenience them sorely. + +Thus, at every march, the hidden enemy became bolder and the Regiment +writhed and twisted under attacks it could not avenge. The crowning +triumph was a sudden night-rush ending in the cutting of many +tent-ropes, the collapse of the sodden canvas, and a glorious knifing +of the men who struggled and kicked below. It was a great deed, neatly +carried out, and it shook the already shaken nerves of the Fore and Aft. +All the courage that they had been required to exercise up to this point +was the "two o'clock in the morning courage"; and, so far, they had only +succeeded in shooting their comrades and losing their sleep. + +Sullen, discontented, cold, savage, sick, with their uniforms dulled and +unclean, the Fore and Aft joined their Brigade. + +"I hear you had a tough time of it coming up," said the Brigadier. But +when he saw the hospital-sheets his face fell. + +"This is bad," said he to himself. "They're as rotten as sheep." And +aloud to the Colonel--"I'm afraid we can't spare you just yet. We want +all we have, else I should have given you ten days to recover in." + +The Colonel winced. "On my honour, Sir," he returned, "there is not the +least necessity to think of sparing us. My men have been rather mauled +and upset without a fair return. They only want to go in somewhere where +they can see what's before them." + +"Can't say I think much of the Fore and Fit," said the Brigadier in +confidence to his Brigade-Major. "They've lost all their soldiering, +and, by the trim of them, might have marched through the country from +the other side. A more fagged-out set of men I never put eyes on." + +"Oh, they'll improve as the work goes on. The parade gloss has been +rubbed off a little, but they'll put on field polish before long," said +the Brigade-Major. "They've been mauled, and they don't quite understand +it." + +They did not. All the hitting was on one side, and it was cruelly hard +hitting with accessories that made them sick. There was also the real +sickness that laid hold of a strong man and dragged him howling to the +grave. Worst of all, their officers knew just as little of the country +as the men themselves, and looked as if they did. The Fore and Aft were +in a thoroughly unsatisfactory condition, but they believed that +all would be well if they could once get a fair go-in at the enemy. +Pot-shots up and down the valleys were unsatisfactory, and the bayonet +never seemed to get a chance. Perhaps it was as well, for a long-limbed +Afghan with a knife had a reach of eight feet, and could carry away lead +that would disable three Englishmen. + +The Fore and Aft would like some rifle-practice at the enemy--all seven +hundred rifles blazing together. That wish showed the mood of the men. + +The Goorkhas walked into their camp, and in broken, barrack-room English +strove to fraternise with them: offered them pipes of tobacco and stood +them treat at the canteen. But the Fore and Aft, not knowing much of +the nature of the Goorkhas, treated them as they would treat any other +"niggers," and the little men in green trotted back to their firm +friends the Highlanders, and with many grins confided to them: "That +dam white regiment no dam use. Sulky--ugh! Dirty--ugh! Hya, any tot for +Johnny?" Whereat the Highlanders smote the Goorkhas as to the head, and +told them not to vilify a British Regiment, and the Goorkhas grinned +cavernously, for the Highlanders were their elder brothers and entitled +to the privileges of kinship. The common soldier who touches a Goorkha +is more than likely to have his head sliced open. + +Three days later the Brigadier arranged a battle according to the rules +of war and the peculiarity of the Afghan temperament. The enemy were +massing in inconvenient strength among the hills, and the moving of +many green standards warned him that the tribes were "up" in aid of +the Afghan regular troops. A squadron and a half of Bengal Lancers +represented the available Cavalry, and two screw-guns, borrowed from a +column thirty miles away, the Artillery at the General's disposal. + +"If they stand, as I've a very strong notion that they will, I fancy +we shall see an infantry fight that will be worth watching," said the +Brigadier. "We'll do it in style. Each regiment shall be played into +action by its Band, and we'll hold the Cavalry in reserve." + +"For all the reserve?" somebody asked. + +"For all the reserve; because we're going to crumple them up," said the +Brigadier, who was an extraordinary Brigadier, and did not believe in +the value of a reserve when dealing with Asiatics. Indeed, when you come +to think of it, had the British Army consistently waited for reserves in +all its little affairs, the boundaries of Our Empire would have stopped +at Brighton beach. + +The battle was to be a glorious battle. + +The three regiments debouching from three separate gorges, after duly +crowning the heights above, were to converge from the centre, left, and +right upon what we will call the Afghan army, then stationed towards +the lower extremity of a flat-bottomed valley. Thus it will be seen that +three sides of the valley practically belonged to the English, while the +fourth was strictly Afghan property. In the event of defeat the Afghans +had the rocky hills to fly to, where the fire from the guerrilla tribes +in aid would cover their retreat. In the event of victory these same +tribes would rush down and lend their weight to the rout of the British. + +The screw-guns were to shell the head of each Afghan rush that was +made in close formation, and the Cavalry, held in reserve in the right +valley, were to gently stimulate the break-up which would follow on +the combined attack. The Brigadier, sitting upon a rock overlooking the +valley, would watch the battle unrolled at his feet. The Fore and Aft +would debouch from the central gorge, the Goorkhas from the left, and +the Highlanders from the right, for the reason that the left flank of +the enemy seemed as though it required the most hammering. It was not +every day that an Afghan force would take ground in the open, and the +Brigadier was resolved to make the most of it. + +"If we only had a few more men," he said plaintively, "we could surround +the creatures and crumple 'em up thoroughly. As it is, I'm afraid we can +only cut them up as they run. It's a great pity." + +The Fore and Aft had enjoyed unbroken peace for five days, and were +beginning, in spite of dysentery, to recover their nerve. But they were +not happy, for they did not know the work in hand, and had they known, +would not have known how to do it. Throughout those five days in +which old soldiers might have taught them the craft of the game, they +discussed together their misadventures in the past--how such an one was +alive at dawn and dead ere the dusk, and with what shrieks and struggles +such another had given up his soul under the Afghan knife. Death was +a new and horrible thing to the sons of mechanics who were used to die +decently of zymotic disease; and their careful conservation in barracks +had done nothing to make them look upon it with less dread. + +Very early in the dawn the bugles began to blow, and the Fore and Aft, +filled with a misguided enthusiasm, turned out without waiting for a cup +of coffee and a biscuit; and were rewarded by being kept under arms in +the cold while the other regiments leisurely prepared for the fray. All +the world knows that it is ill taking the breeks off a Highlander. It +is much iller to try to make him stir unless he is convinced of the +necessity for haste. 507 The Fore and Aft waited, leaning upon their +rifles and listening to the protests of their empty stomachs. The +Colonel did his best to remedy the default of lining as soon as it was +borne in upon him that the affair would not begin at once, and so well +did he succeed that the coffee was just ready when--the men moved off, +their Band leading. Even then there had been a mistake in time, and +the Fore and Aft came out into the valley ten minutes before the proper +hour. Their Band wheeled to the right after reaching the open, and +retired behind a little rocky knoll still playing while the Regiment +went past. + +It was not a pleasant sight that opened on the uninstructed view, +for the lower end of the valley appeared to be filled by an army in +position--real and actual regiments attired in red coats, and--of this +there was no doubt--firing Martini-Henry bullets which cut up the ground +a hundred yards in front of the leading company. Over that pock-marked +ground the Regiment had to pass, and it opened the ball with a general +and profound courtesy to the piping pickets; ducking in perfect time, as +though it had been brazed on a rod. Being half capable of thinking for +itself, it fired a volley by the simple process of pitching its +rifle into its shoulder and pulling the trigger. The bullets may have +accounted for some of the watchers on the hill side, but they certainly +did not affect the mass of enemy in front, while the noise of the rifles +drowned any orders that might have been given. + +"Good God!" said the Brigadier, sitting on the rock high above all. +"That Regiment has spoilt the whole show. Hurry up the others, and let +the screw-guns get off." + +But the screw-guns, in working round the heights, had stumbled upon +a wasp's nest of a small mud fort which they incontinently shelled at +eight hundred yards, to the huge discomfort of the occupants, who were +unaccustomed to weapons of such devilish precision. + +The Fore and Aft continued to go forward, but with shortened stride. +Where were the other regiments, and why did these niggers use Martinis? +They took open order instinctively, lying down and firing at random, +rushing a few paces forward and lying down again, according to the +regulations. Once in this formation, each man felt himself desperately +alone, and edged in towards his fellow for comfort's sake. + +Then the crack of his neighbor's rifle at his ear led him to fire as +rapidly as he could--again for the sake of the comfort of the noise. The +reward was not long delayed. Five volleys plunged the files in banked +smoke impenetrable to the eye, and the bullets began to take ground +twenty or thirty yards in front of the firers, as the weight of the +bayonet dragged down and to the right arms wearied with holding the kick +of the leaping Martini. The Company Commanders peered helplessly through +the smoke, the more nervous mechanically trying to fan it away with +their helmets. + +"High and to the left!" bawled a Captain till he was hoarse. "No good! +Cease firing, and let it drift away a bit." + +Three and four times the bugles shrieked the order, and when it was +obeyed the Fore and Aft looked that their foe should be lying before +them in mown swaths of men. A light wind drove the smoke to leeward, and +showed the enemy still in position and apparently unaffected. A quarter +of a ton of lead had been buried a furlong in front of them, as the +ragged earth attested. + +That was not demoralizing to the Afghans, who have not European nerves. +They were waiting for the mad riot to die down, and were firing quietly +into the heart of the smoke. A private of the Fore and Aft spun up his +company shrieking with agony, another was kicking the earth and gasping, +and a third, ripped through the lower intestines by a jagged bullet, was +calling aloud on his comrades to put him out of his pain. These were the +casualties, and they were not soothing to hear or see. The smoke cleared +to a dull haze. + +Then the foe began to shout with a great shouting, and a mass--a black +mass--detached itself from the main body, and rolled over the ground at +horrid speed. It was composed of, perhaps, three hundred men, who would +shout and fire and slash if the rush of their fifty comrades who were +determined to die carried home. The fifty were Ghazis, half maddened +with drugs and wholly mad with religious fanaticism. When they rushed +the British fire ceased, and in the lull the order was given to close +ranks and meet them with the bayonet. + +Any one who knew the business could have told the Fore and Aft that +the only way of dealing with a Ghazi rush is by volleys at long ranges; +because a man who means to die, who desires to die, who will gain heaven +by dying, must, in nine cases out of ten, kill a man who has a lingering +prejudice in favour of life. Where they should have closed and gone +forward, the Fore and Aft opened out and skirmished, and where they +should have opened out and fired, they closed and waited. + +A man dragged from his blankets half awake and unfed is never in a +pleasant frame of mind. Nor does his happiness increase when he watches +the whites of the eyes of three hundred six-foot fiends upon whose +beards the foam is lying, upon whose tongues is a roar of wrath, and in +whose hands are yard-long knives. + +The Fore and Aft heard the Goorkha bugles bringing that regiment forward +at the double, while the neighing of the Highland pipes came from the +left. They strove to stay where they were, though the bayonets wavered +down the line like the oars of a ragged boat. Then they felt body to +body the amazing physical strength of their foes; a shriek of pain +ended the rush, and the knives fell amid scenes not to be told. The +men clubbed together and smote blindly--as often as not at their own +fellows. Their front crumpled like paper, and the fifty Ghazis passed +on; their backers, now drunk with success, fighting as madly as they. + +Then the rear ranks were bidden to close up, and the subalterns dashed +into the stew--alone. For the rear-ranks had heard the clamour in front, +the yells and the howls of pain, and had seen the dark stale blood that +makes afraid. They were not going to stay. It was the rushing of the +camps over again. Let their officers go to Hell, if they chose; they +would get away from the knives. + +"Come on!" shrieked the subalterns, and their men, cursing them, drew +back, each closing in to his neighbour and wheeling round. + +Charteris and Devlin, subalterns of the last company, faced their death +alone in the belief that their men would follow. + +"You've killed me, you cowards," sobbed Devlin and dropped, cut from the +shoulder-strap to the centre of the chest; and a fresh detachment of his +men retreating, always retreating, trampled him under foot as they made +for the pass whence they had emerged. + +I kissed her in the kitchen and I kissed her in the hall Child'un, +child'un, follow me! Oh Golly, said the cook, is he gwine to kiss us +all? Halla--Halla--Halla--Hallelujah! + +The Goorkhas were pouring through the left gorge and over the heights at +the double to the invitation of their Regimental Quick-step. The black +rocks were crowned with dark green spiders as the bugles gave tongue +jubilantly:-- + + In the morning! In the morning by the bright light! + When Gabriel blows his trumpet in the morning! + +The Goorkha rear companies tripped and blundered over loose stones. +The front files halted for a moment to take stock of the valley and to +settle stray boot-laces. Then a happy little sigh of contentment soughed +down the ranks, and it was as though the land smiled, for behold there +below was the enemy, and it was to meet them that the Goorkhas had +doubled so hastily. There was much enemy. There would be amusement. The +little men hitched their kukris well to hand, and gaped expectantly at +their officers as terriers grin ere the stone is cast for them to fetch. +The Goorkhas' ground sloped downward to the valley, and they enjoyed a +fair view of the proceedings. They sat upon the boulders to watch, +for their officers were not going to waste their wind in assisting to +repulse a Ghazi rush more than half a mile away. Let the white men look +to their own front. + +"Hi! yi!" said the Subadar-Major, who was sweating profusely. "Dam fools +yonder, stand close order! This is no time for close order, it is the +time for volleys. Ugh!" + +Horrified, amused, and indignant, the Goorkhas beheld the retirement of +the Fore and Aft with a running chorus of oaths and commentaries. + +"They run! The white men run! Colonel Sahib, may we also do a little +running?" murmured Runbir Thappa, the Senior Jemadar. + +But the Colonel would have none of it. "Let the beggars be cut up a +little," said he wrathfully. "Serves 'em right. They'll be prodded into +facing round in a minute." He looked through his field-glasses, and +caught the glint of an officer's sword. + +"Beating 'em with the flat--damned conscripts! How the Ghazis are +walking into them!" said he. + +The Fore and Aft, heading back, bore with them their officers. The +narrowness of the pass forced the mob into solid formation, and the rear +ranks delivered some sort of a wavering volley. The Ghazis drew off, for +they did not know what reserve the gorge might hide. Moreover, it was +never wise to chase white men too far. They returned as wolves return +to cover, satisfied with the slaughter that they had done, and only +stopping to slash at the wounded on the ground. A quarter of a mile had +the Fore and Aft retreated, and now, jammed in the pass, was quivering +with pain, shaken and demoralised with fear, while the officers, +maddened beyond control, smote the men with the hilts and the flats of +their swords. + +"Get back! Get back, you cowards--you women! Right about face--column +of companies, form--you hounds!" shouted the Colonel, and the subalterns +swore aloud. But the Regiment wanted to go--to go anywhere out of the +range of those merciless knives. It swayed to and fro irresolutely with +shouts and outcries, while from the right the Goorkhas dropped volley +after volley of cripple-stopper Snider bullets at long range into the +mob of the Ghazis returning to their own troops. + +The Fore and Aft Band, though protected from direct fire by the rocky +knoll under which it had sat down, fled at the first rush. Jakin and Lew +would have fled also, but their short legs left them fifty yards in the +rear, and by the time the Band had mixed with the Regiment, they were +painfully aware that they would have to close in alone and unsupported. + +"Get back to that rock," gasped Jakin. "They won't see us there." + +And they returned to the scattered instruments of the Band, their hearts +nearly bursting their ribs. + +"Here's a nice show for us," said Jakin, throwing himself full length on +the ground. "A bloomin' fine show for British Infantry! Oh, the devils! +They've gone and left us alone here! Wot'll we do?" + +Lew took possession of a cast-off water-bottle, which naturally was full +of canteen rum, and drank till he coughed again. + +"Drink," said he shortly. "They'll come back in a minute or two--you +see." + +Jakin drank, but there was no sign of the Regiment's return. They could +hear a dull clamour from the head of the valley of retreat, and saw the +Ghazis slink back, quickening their pace as the Goorkhas fired at them. + +"We're all that's left of the Band, an' we'll be cut up as sure as +death," said Jakin. + +"I'll die game, then," said Lew thickly, fumbling with his tiny +drummer's sword. The drink was working on his brain as it was on +Jakin's. + +"'Old on! I know something better than fightin'," said Jakin, stung by +the splendour of a sudden thought due chiefly to rum. "Tip our bloomin' +cowards yonder the word to come back. The Paythan beggars are well away. +Come on, Lew! We won't get hurt. Take the fife an' give me the drum. The +Old Step for all your bloomin' guts are worth! There's a few of our +men coming back now. Stand up, ye drunken little defaulter. By your +right--quick march!" + +He slipped the drum-sling over his shoulder, thrust the fife into Lew's +hand, and the two boys marched out of the cover of the rock into +the open, making a hideous hash of the first bars of the "British +Grenadiers." + +As Lew had said, a few of the Fore and Aft were coming back sullenly +and shamefacedly under the stimulus of blows and abuse; their red coats +shone at the head of the valley, and behind them were wavering bayonets. +But between this shattered line and the enemy, who with Afghan suspicion +feared that the hasty retreat meant an ambush, and had not moved +therefore, lay half a mile of level ground dotted only by the wounded. + +The tune settled into full swing and the boys kept shoulder to shoulder, +Jakin banging the drum as one possessed. The one fife made a thin and +pitiful squeaking, but the tune carried far, even to the Goorkhas. + +"Come on, you dogs!" muttered Jakin to himself. "Are we to play +forhever?" Lew was staring straight in front of him and marching more +stiffly than ever he had done on parade. + +And in bitter mockery of the distant mob, the old tune of the Old Line +shrilled and rattled:-- + + Some talk of Alexander, + And some of Hercules; + Of Hector and Lysander, + And such great names as these! + +There was a far-off clapping of hands from the Goorkhas, and a roar from +the Highlanders in the distance, but never a shot was fired by British +or Afghan. The two little red dots moved forward in the open parallel to +the enemy's front. + + But of all the world's great heroes + There's none that can compare, + With a tow-row-row-row-row-row, + To the British Grenadier! + +The men of the Fore and Aft were gathering thick at the entrance into +the plain. The Brigadier on the heights far above was speechless with +rage. Still no movement from the enemy. The day stayed to watch the +children. + +Jakin halted and beat the long roll of the Assembly, while the fife +squealed despairingly. + +"Right about face! Hold up, Lew, you're drunk," said Jakin. They wheeled +and marched back:-- + + 'hose heroes of antiquity + Ne'er saw a cannon-ball, + Nor knew the force o' powder, + +"Here they come!" said Jakin. "Go on, Lew":-- + + To scare their foes withal! + +The Fore and Aft were pouring out of the valley. What officers had said +to men in that time of shame and humiliation will never be known; for +neither officers nor men speak of it now. + +"They are coming anew!" shouted a priest among the Afghans. "Do not kill +the boys! Take them alive, and they shall be of our faith." + +But the first volley had been fired, and Lew dropped on his face. Jakin +stood for a minute, spun round and collapsed, as the Fore and Aft came +forward, the curses of their officers in their ears, and in their hearts +the shame of open shame. + +Half the men had seen the drummers die, and they made no sign. They +did not even shout. They doubled out straight across the plain in open +order, and they did not fire. + +"This," said the Colonel of Goorkhas, softly, "is the real attack, as it +should have been delivered. Come on, my children." + +"Ulu-lu-lu-lu!" squealed the Goorkhas, and came down with a joyful +clicking of kukris--those vicious Goorkha knives. + +On the right there was no rush. The Highlanders, cannily commending +their souls to God (for it matters as much to a dead man whether he +has been shot in a Border scuffle or at Waterloo), opened out and fired +according to their custom, that is to say without heat and without +intervals, while the screw-guns, having disposed of the impertinent mud +fort aforementioned, dropped shell after shell into the clusters round +the flickering green standards on the heights. + +"Charrging is an unfortunate necessity," murmured the Colour-Sergeant +of the right company of the Highlanders. "It makes the men sweer so, but +I am thinkin' that it will come to a charrge if these black devils stand +much longer. Stewarrt, man, you're firing into the eye of the sun, and +he'll not take any harm for Government ammuneetion. A foot lower and a +great deal slower! What are the English doing? They're very quiet, there +in the center. Running again?" + +The English were not running. They were hacking and hewing and stabbing, +for though one white man is seldom physically a match for an Afghan in +a sheepskin or wadded coat, yet, through the pressure of many white +men behind, and a certain thirst for revenge in his heart, he becomes +capable of doing much with both ends of his rifle. The Fore and Aft held +their fire till one bullet could drive through five or six men, and the +front of the Afghan force gave on the volley. They then selected +their men, and slew them with deep gasps and short hacking coughs, and +groanings of leather belts against strained bodies, and realised for the +first time that an Afghan attacked is far less formidable than an Afghan +attacking; which fact old soldiers might have told them. + +But they had no old soldiers in their ranks. + +The Goorkhas' stall at the bazar was the noisiest, for the men were +engaged--to a nasty noise as of beef being cut on the block--with the +kukri, which they preferred to the bayonet; well knowing how the Afghan +hates the half-moon blade. + +As the Afghans wavered, the green standards on the mountain moved down +to assist them in a last rally. This was unwise. The Lancers, chafing in +the right gorge, had thrice despatched their only subaltern as galloper +to report on the progress of affairs. On the third occasion he returned, +with a bullet-graze on his knee, swearing strange oaths in Hindustani, +and saying that all things were ready. So that squadron swung round the +right of the Highlanders with a wicked whistling of wind in the pennons +of its lances, and fell upon the remnant just when, according to all the +rules of war, it should have waited for the foe to show more signs of +wavering. + +But it was a dainty charge, deftly delivered, and it ended by the +Cavalry finding itself at the head of the pass by which the Afghans +intended to retreat; and down the track that the lances had made +streamed two companies of the Highlanders, which was never intended by +the Brigadier. The new development was successful. It detached the enemy +from his base as a sponge is torn from a rock, and left him ringed about +with fire in that pitiless plain. And as a sponge is chased round the +bath-tub by the hand of the bather, so were the Afghans chased till they +broke into little detachments much more difficult to dispose of than +large masses. + +"See!" quoth the Brigadier. "Everything has come as I arranged. We've +cut their base, and now we'll bucket 'em to pieces." + +A direct hammering was all that the Brigadier had dared to hope for, +considering the size of the force at his disposal; but men who stand or +fall by the errors of their opponents may be forgiven for turning Chance +into Design. The bucketing went forward merrily. The Afghan forces were +upon the run--the run of wearied wolves who snarl and bite over their +shoulders. The red lances dipped by twos and threes, and, with a shriek, +uprose the lance-butt, like a spar on a stormy sea, as the trooper +cantering forward cleared his point. The Lancers kept between their prey +and the steep hills, for all who could were trying to escape from the +valley of death. The Highlanders gave the fugitives two hundred yards' +law, and then brought them down, gasping and choking ere they could +reach the protection of the boulders above. The Goorkhas followed suit; +but the Fore and Aft were killing on their own account, for they had +penned a mass of men between their bayonets and a wall of rock, and the +flash of the rifles was lighting the wadded coats. + +"We cannot hold them, Captain Sahib!" panted a Ressaidar of Lancers. +"Let us try the carbine. The lance is good, but it wastes time." + +They tried the carbine, and still the enemy melted away--fled up the +hills by hundreds when there were only twenty bullets to stop them. +On the heights the screw-guns ceased firing--they had run out of +ammunition--and the Brigadier groaned, for the musketry fire could not +sufficiently smash the retreat. Long before the last volleys were fired, +the doolies were out in force looking for the wounded. The battle was +over, and, but for want of fresh troops, the Afghans would have been +wiped off the earth. As it was, they counted their dead by hundreds, and +nowhere were the dead thicker than in the track of the Fore and Aft. + +But the Regiment did not cheer with the Highlanders, nor did they dance +uncouth dances with the Goorkhas among the dead. They looked under their +brows at the Colonel as they leaned upon their rifles and panted. + +"Get back to camp, you. Haven't you disgraced yourself enough for one +day! Go and look to the wounded. It's all you're fit for," said the +Colonel. Yet for the past hour the Fore and Aft had been doing all that +mortal commander could expect. They had lost heavily because they did +not know how to set about their business with proper skill, but they had +borne themselves gallantly, and this was their reward. + +A young and sprightly Colour-Sergeant, who had begun to imagine himself +a hero, offered his water-bottle to a Highlander whose tongue was black +with thirst. "I drink with no cowards," answered the youngster huskily, +and, turning to a Goorkha, said, "Hya, Johnny! Drink water got it?" The +Goorkha grinned and passed his bottle. The Fore and Aft said no word. + +They went back to camp when the field of strife had been a little mopped +up and made presentable, and the Brigadier, who saw himself a Knight +in three months, was the only soul who was complimentary to them. The +Colonel was heartbroken, and the officers were savage and sullen. + +"Well," said the Brigadier, "they are young troops, of course, and it +was not unnatural that they should retire in disorder for a bit." + +"Oh, my only Aunt Maria!" murmured a junior Staff Officer. "Retire in +disorder! It was a bally run!" + +"But they came again, as we all know," cooed the Brigadier, the +Colonel's ashy-white face before him, "and they behaved as well as could +possibly be expected. Behaved beautifully, indeed. I was watching them. +It's not a matter to take to heart, Colonel. As some German General said +of his men, they wanted to be shooted over a little, that was all." To +himself he said--"Now they're blooded I can give 'em responsible work. +It's as well that they got what they did. 'Teach 'em more than half a +dozen rifle flirtations, that will--later--run alone and bite. Poor old +Colonel, though." + +All that afternoon the heliograph winked and flickered on the hills, +striving to tell the good news to a mountain forty miles away And in +the evening there arrived, dusty, sweating, and sore, a misguided +Correspondent who had gone out to assist at a trumpery village-burning, +and who had read off the message from afar, cursing his luck the while. + +"Let's have the details somehow--as full as ever you can, please. +It's the first time I've ever been left this campaign," said the +Correspondent to the Brigadier; and the Brigadier, nothing loth, told +him how an Army of Communication had been crumpled up, destroyed, and +all but annihilated by the craft, strategy, wisdom, and foresight of the +Brigadier. + +But some say, and among these be the Goorkhas who watched on the +hillside, that that battle was won by Jakin and Lew, whose little +bodies were borne up just in time to fit two gaps at the head of the big +ditch-grave for the dead under the heights of Jagai. + + + + +JUDSON AND THE EMPIRE + + Gloriana! The Don may attack us + Whenever his stomach be fain; + He must reach us before he can rack us... + And where are the galleons of Spain? + + Dobson. + + +One of the many beauties of a democracy is its almost superhuman skill +in developing troubles with other countries and finding its honour +abraded in the process. A true democracy has a large contempt for all +other lands that are governed by Kings and Queens and Emperors, and +knows little and thinks less of their internal affairs. All it regards +is its own dignity, which is its King, Queen, and Knave. So, sooner or +later, an international difference ends in the common people, who have +no dignity, shouting the common abuse of the street, which also has no +dignity, across the seas in order to vindicate their own dignity. The +consequences may or may not be war, but the chances do not favour peace. + +An advantage in living in a civilised land which is really governed lies +in the fact that all the Kings and Queens and Emperors of the continent +are closely related by blood or marriage--are, in fact, one large +family. A wise head of them knows that what appears to be a studied +insult may be no more than some man's indigestion or woman's +indisposition to be treated as such, and explained in quiet talk. Again, +a popular demonstration, headed by King and Court, may mean nothing +more than that so-and-so's people are out of hand for the minute. When +a horse falls to kicking in a hunt-crowd at a gate, the rider does not +dismount, but puts his open hand behind him, and the others draw aside. +It is so with the rulers of men. In the old days they cured their own +and their people's bad temper with fire and slaughter; but now that +the fire is so long of range and the slaughter so large, they do other +things, and few among their people guess how much they owe in mere +life and money to what the slang of the minute calls "puppets" and +"luxuries." + +Once upon a time there was a little Power, the half-bankrupt wreck of a +once great empire, that lost its temper with England, the whipping-boy +of all the world, and behaved, as every one knows, most scandalously. +But it is not generally known that that Power fought a pitched battle +with England and won a glorious victory. The trouble began with the +people. Their own misfortunes had been many, and for private rage it +is always refreshing to find a vent in public swearing. Their national +vanity had been deeply injured, and they thought of their ancient +glories and the days when their fleets had first rounded the Cape of +Storms, and their own newspapers called upon Camoens and urged them to +extravagances. It was the gross, smooth, sleek, lying England that was +checking their career of colonial expansion. They assumed at once that +their ruler was in league with that country, and consequently they, +his people, would forthwith become a Republic and colonially expand +themselves as a free people should. This made plain, the people threw +stones at the English Consuls and spat at English ladies, and cut off +drunken sailors of our fleet in their ports and hammered them with +oars, and made things very unpleasant for tourists at their customs, and +threatened awful deaths to the consumptive invalids at Madeira, while +the junior officers of the Army drank fruit-extracts and entered into +blood-curdling conspiracies against their monarch, all with the object +of being a Republic. Now the history of all the South American Republics +shows that it is not good that Southern Europeans should be also +Republicans. They glide too quickly into military despotism; and the +propping of men against walls and shooting them in detachments can be +arranged much more economically and with less effect on the death-rate +by a hide-bound monarchy. Still the performances of the Power as +represented by its people were extremely inconvenient. It was the +kicking horse in the crowd, and probably the rider explained that he +could not check it. The people enjoyed all the glory of war with none +of the risks, and the tourists who were stoned in their travels returned +stolidly to England and told the "Times" that the police arrangements of +foreign towns were defective. + +This then was the state of affairs north of the Line. South it was more +strained, for there the Powers were at direct issue: England, unable to +go back because of the pressure of adventurous children behind her, +and the actions of far-away adventurers who would not come to heel, +but offering to buy out her rival; and the other Power, lacking men or +money, stiff in the conviction that three hundred years of slave-holding +and intermingling with the nearest natives gave an inalienable right to +hold slaves and issue half-castes to all eternity. They had built no +roads. Their towns were rotting under their hands; they had no trade +worth the freight of a crazy steamer, and their sovereignty ran almost +one musket-shot inland when things were peaceful. For these very reasons +they raged all the more, and the things that they said and wrote about +the manners and customs of the English would have driven a younger +nation to the guns with a long red bill for wounded honour. + +It was then that Fate sent down in a twin-screw shallow-draft gunboat, +designed for the defence of rivers, of some two hundred and seventy +tons' displacement, Lieutenant Harrison Edward Judson, to be known for +the future as Bai-Jove-Judson. His type of craft looked exactly like +a flat-iron with a match stuck up in the middle; it drew five feet of +water or less, carried a four-inch gun forward, which was trained by the +ship, and, on account of its persistent rolling, was to live in three +degrees worse than a torpedo-boat. When Judson was appointed to take +charge of the thing on her little trip of six or seven thousand miles +southward, his first remark as he went to look her over in dock was, +"Bai Jove, that topmast wants staying forward!" The topmast was a stick +about as thick as a clothes-prop, but the flat-iron was Judson's first +command, and he would not have exchanged his position for second post on +the "Anson" or the "Howe". He navigated her, under convoy, tenderly and +lovingly to the Cape (the story of the topmast came with him), and he +was so absurdly in love with his wallowing wash-tub when he reported +himself, that the Admiral of the station thought it would be a pity to +kill a new man on her, and allowed Judson to continue in his unenvied +rule. + +The Admiral visited her once in Simon's Bay, and she was bad, even for +a flat-iron gunboat strictly designed for river and harbour defence. She +sweated clammy drops of dew between decks in spite of a preparation of +powdered cork that was sprinkled over her inside paint. She rolled in +the long Cape swell like a buoy; her foc's'le was a dog-kennel; Judson's +cabin was practically under the water-line; not one of her dead-bights +could ever be opened; and her compasses, thanks to the influence of +the four-inch gun, were a curiosity even among Admiralty compasses. But +Bai-Jove-Judson was radiant and enthusiastic. He had even contrived to +fill Mr. Davies, the second-class engine-room artificer, who was +his chief engineer, with the glow of his passion. The Admiral, who +remembered his own first command, when pride forbade him to slacken off +a single rope on a dewy night, and he had racked his rigging to pieces +in consequence, looked at the flat-iron keenly. Her fenders were done +all over with white sennit which was truly white; her big gun was +varnished with a better composition than the Admiralty allowed; the +spare sights were cased as carefully as the chronometers; the chocks for +spare spars, two of them, were made of four-inch Burma teak carved with +dragons' heads that was one result of Bai-Jove-Judson's experiences +with the Naval Brigade in the Burmese war; the bow-anchor was varnished +instead of being painted, and there were charts more than the Admiralty +scale supplied. The Admiral was well pleased, for he loved a ship's +husband--a man who had a little money of his own and was willing to +spend it on his command. Judson looked at him hopefully. He was only a +Junior Navigating Lieutenant under eight years' standing. He might be +kept in Simon's Bay for six months, and his ship at sea was his delight. +The dream of his heart was to enliven her dismal official gray with +a line of gold-leaf and perhaps a little scroll-work at her blunt +barge-like bows. + +"There's nothing like a first command, is there?" said the Admiral, +reading his thoughts. "You seem to have rather queer compasses, though. +Better get them adjusted." + +"It's no use, sir," said Judson. "The gun would throw out the Pole +itself. But--but I've got the hang of most of their weaknesses." + +"Will you be good enough to lay that gun over thirty degrees, please?" +The gun was put over. Round and round and round went the needle merrily, +and the Admiral whistled. + +"You must have kept close to your convoy?" + +"Saw her twice between here and Madeira, sir," said Judson with a flush, +for he resented the slur on his seamanship. "It's--it's a little out of +hand, now, but she'll settle down after a while." + +The Admiral went over the side, according to the rules of the Service, +but the Staff-Captain must have told the other men of the squadron in +Simon's Bay, for they one and all made light of the flat-iron for many +days. "What can you shake out of her, Judson?" said the Lieutenant of +the "Mongoose", a real white-painted, ram-bow gunboat with quick-firing +guns, as he came into the upper verandah of the little naval Club +overlooking the dockyard one hot afternoon. It is in that Club as the +captains come and go that you hear all the gossip of all the Seven Seas. + +"Ten point four," said Bai-Jove-Judson. + +"Ah! That was on her trial trip. She's too deep by the head now. I told +you staying that topmast would throw her out of trim." + +"You leave my top-hamper alone," said Judson, for the joke was beginning +to pall on him. + +"Oh, my soul! Listen to him. Juddy's top-hamper! Keate, have you heard +of the flat-iron's top-hamper? You're to leave it alone. Commodore +Judson's feelings are hurt." + +Keate was the Torpedo Lieutenant of the big "Vortigern", and he despised +small things. "His top-hamper," said he slowly. "Oh, ah yes, of course. +Juddy, there's a shoal of mullet in the bay, and I think they're foul of +your screws. Better go down, or they'll carry away something." + +"I don't let things carry away as a rule. You see I've no Torpedo +Lieutenant on board, thank God!" + +Keate within the past week had so managed to bungle the slinging in of +a small torpedo-boat on the "Vortigern", that the boat had broken the +crutches in which she rested, and was herself being repaired in the +dockyard under the Club windows. + +"One for you, Keate. Never mind, Juddy; you're hereby appointed +dockyard-tender for the next three years, and if you're very good and +there's no sea on, you shall take me round the harbour. Waitabeechee, +Commodore. What'll you take? Vanderhum for the 'Cook and the captain +bold, And the mate o' the Nancy brig, And the bo'sun tight' (Juddy, put +that cue down or I'll put you under arrest for insulting the lieutenant +of the real ship) 'And the midshipmite, And the crew of the captain's +gig." + +By this time Judson had pinned him in a corner, and was prodding him +with the half-butt. The Admiral's Secretary entered, and saw the scuffle +from afar. + +"Ouch! Juddy, I apologise. Take that--er topmast of yours away! Here's +the man with the bow-string. I wish I were a staff-captain instead of +a bloody lootenant. Sperril sleeps below every night. That's what makes +Sperril tumble home from the waist uppards. Sperril, I defy you to touch +me. I'm under orders for Zanzibar. Probably I shall annex it!" + +"Judson, the Admiral wants to see you!" said the Staff-Captain, +disregarding the scoffer of the "Mongoose". + +"I told you you'd be a dockyard-tender yet, Juddy. A side of fresh +beef to-morrow and three dozen snapper on ice. On ice, you understand, +Juddy?" + +Bai-Jove-Judson and the Staff-Captain went out together. + +"Now, what does the Admiral want with Judson?" said Keate from the bar. + +"Don't know. Juddy's a damned good fellow, though. I wish to goodness he +was on the Mongoose with us." + +The Lieutenant of the "Mongoose" dropped into a chair and read the +mail papers for an hour. Then he saw Bai-Jove-Judson in the street and +shouted to him. Judson's eyes were very bright, and his figure was held +very straight, and he moved joyously. Except for the Lieutenant of the +"Mongoose", the Club was empty. + +"Juddy, there will be a beautiful row," said that young man when he +had heard the news delivered in an undertone. "You'll probably have to +fight, and yet I can't see what the Admiral's thinking of to--" + +"My orders are not to fight under any circumstances," said Judson. + +"Go-look-see? That all? When do you go?" + +"To-night if I can. I must go down and see about things. I say, I may +want a few men for the day." + +"Anything on the 'Mongoose' is at your service. There's my gig come in +now. I know that coast, dead, drunk, or asleep, and you'll need all the +knowledge you can get. If it had only been us two together! Come over +with me!" + +For one whole hour Judson remained closeted in the stern cabin of the +"Mongoose", listening, poring over chart upon chart and taking notes, +and for an hour the marine at the door heard nothing but things like +these: "Now you'll have to put in here if there's any sea on. That +current is ridiculously under-estimated, and it sets west at this season +of the year, remember. Their boats never come south of this, see? So +it's no good looking out for them." And so on and so forth, while +Judson lay at length on the locker by the three-pounder, and smoked and +absorbed it all. + +Next morning there was no flat-iron in Simon's Bay, only a little smudge +of smoke off Cape Hangklip to show that Mr. Davies, the second-class +engine-room artificer, was giving her all she could carry. At the +Admiral's house, the ancient and retired bo'sun, who had seen many +Admirals come and go, brought out his paint and brushes and gave a new +coat of pure raw pea-green to the two big cannon-balls that stood one +on each side of the Admiral's entrance-gate. He felt dimly that great +events were stirring. + +And the flat-iron, constructed, as has been before said, solely for the +defense of rivers, met the great roll off Cape Agulhas and was swept +from end to end and sat upon her twin-screws and leaped as gracefully +as a cow in a bog from one sea to another, till Mr. Davies began to fear +for the safety of his engines, and the Kroo boys that made the majority +of the crew were deathly sick. She ran along a very badly-lighted coast, +past bays that were no bays, where ugly flat-topped rocks lay almost +level with the water, and very many extraordinary things happened that +have nothing to do with the story, but they were all duly logged by +Bai-Jove-Judson. + +At last the coast changed and grew green and low and exceedingly muddy, +and there were broad rivers whose bars were little islands standing +three or four miles out at sea, and Bai-Jove-Judson hugged the +shore more closely than ever, remembering what the Lieutenant of the +"Mongoose" had told him. Then he found a river full of the smell of +fever and mud, with green stuff growing far into its waters, and a +current that made the flatiron gasp and grunt. + +"We will turn up here," said Bai-Jove-Judson, and they turned up +accordingly; Mr. Davies wondering what in the world it all meant, and +the Kroo boys grinning. Bai-Jove-Judson went forward to the bows and +meditated, staring through the muddy waters. After six hours of rooting +through this desolation at an average rate of five miles an hour, his +eyes were cheered by the sight of one white buoy in the coffee-hued +mid-stream. The flat-iron crept up to it cautiously, and a leadsman took +soundings all around it from a dinghy, while Bai-Jove-Judson smoked and +thought, with his head on one side. + +"About seven feet, isn't there?" said he. "That must be the tail end of +the shoal. There's four fathom in the fairway. Knock that buoy down with +axes. I don't think it's picturesque somehow." The Kroo men hacked the +wooden sides to pieces in three minutes, and the mooring-chain sank +with the lasst splinters of wood. Bai-Jove Judson laid the flat-iron +carefully over the site, while Mr. Davies watched, biting his nails +nervously. + +"Can you back her against this current?" said Bai-Jove-Judson. Mr. +Davies could, inch by inch, but only inch by inch, and Bai-Jove-Judson +sat in the bows and gazed at various things on the bank as they came +into line or opened out. The flatiron dropped down over the tail of +the shoal, exactly where the buoy had been, and backed once before +Bai-Jove-Judson was satisfied. Then they went up stream for half an +hour, put into shoal water by the bank and waited, with a slip-rope on +the anchor. + +"Seems to me," said Mr. Davies deferentially, "like as if I heard some +one a-firing off at intervals, so to say." + +There was beyond doubt a dull mutter in the air. "Seems to me," said +Bai-Jove-Judson, "as if I heard a screw. Stand by to slip her moorings." + +Another ten minutes passed and the beat of engines grew plainer. +Then round the bend of the river came a remarkably prettily built +white-painted gunboat with a blue and white flag bearing a red boss in +the centre. + +"Unshackle abaft the windlass! Stream both buoys! Easy, astern. Let go, +all!" The slip-rope flew out, the two buoys bobbed in the water to mark +where anchor and cable had been left, and the flat-iron waddled out +into midstream with the white ensign at her one mast-head. + +"Give her all you can. That thing has the legs of us," said Judson. "And +down we go!" + +"It's war--bloody war. He's going to fire," said Mr. Davies, looking up +through the engine-room hatch. + +The white gunboat without a word of explanation fired three guns at +the flat-iron, cutting the trees on the banks into green chips. +Bai-Jove-Judson was at the wheel, and Mr. Davies and the current helped +the boat to an almost respectable degree of speed. + +It was an exciting chase, but it did not last for more than five +minutes. The white gunboat fired again, and Mr. Davies in his +engine-room gave a wild shout. + +"What's the matter? Hit?" said Bai-Jove-Judson. + +"No, I've just seized of your roos-de-gare. Beg y' pardon, sir." + +"Right O! Just the half a fraction of a point more." The wheel turned +under the steady hand, as Bai-Jove-Judson watched his marks on the bank +coming in line swiftly as troops anxious to aid. The flat-iron smelt the +shoal water under her, checked for an instant, and went on. "Now we're +over. Come along, you thieves, there!" + +The white gunboat, too hurried even to fire, was storming in the wake +of the flat-iron, steering as she steered. This was unfortunate, because +the lighter craft was dead over the missing buoy. + +"What you do here?" shouted a voice from the bows. + +"I'm going on. Hold tight. Now you're arranged for!" + +There was a crash and a clatter as the white gunboat's nose took the +shoal, and the brown mud boiled up in oozy circles under her forefoot. +Then the current caught her stem by the starboard side and drove her +broadside on to the shoal, slowly and gracefully. There she heeled at an +undignified angle, and her crew yelled aloud. + +"Neat! Oh, damn neat!" quoth Mr. Davies, dancing on the engine-room +plates, while the Kroo stokers grinned. + +The flat-iron turned up-stream again, and passed under the hove-up +starboard side of the white gunboat, to be received with howls and +imprecations in a strange tongue. The stranded boat, exposed even to her +lower strakes, was as defence-less as a turtle on its back, without the +advantage of the turtle's plating. And the one big blunt gun in the bows +of the flat-iron was unpleasantly near. + +But the captain was valiant and swore mightily. Bai-Jove-Judson took no +sort of notice. His business was to go up the river. + +"We will come in a flotilla of boats and ecrazer your vile tricks," said +the captain with language that need not be published. + +Then said Bai-Jove-Judson, who was a linguist: "You stay o where you are +o, or I'll leave a hole-o in your bottom o that will make you much os +perforatados." + +There was a great deal of mixed language in reply, but Bai-Jove-Judson +was out of hearing in a few minutes, and Mr. Davies, himself a man of +few words, confided to one of his subordinates that Lieutenant Judson +was "a most remarkable prompt officer in a way of putting it." + +For two hours the flat-iron pawed madly through the muddy water, and +that which had been at first a mutter became a distinct rumble. + +"Was war declared?" said Mr. Davies, and Bai-Jove-Judson laughed. "Then, +damn his eyes, he might have spoilt my pretty little engines. There's +war up there, though." + +The next bend brought them full in sight of a small but lively village, +built round a whitewashed mud house of some pretensions. There were +scores and scores of saddle-coloured soldiery on duty, white uniforms +running to and fro and shouting round a man in a litter, and on a gentle +slope that ran inland for four or five miles something like a brisk +battle was raging round a rude stockade. A smell of unburied carcasses +floated through the air and vexed the sensitive nose of Mr. Davies, who +spat over the side. + +"I want to get this gun on that house," said Bai-Jove-Judson, indicating +the superior dwelling over whose flat roof floated the blue and white +flag. The little twin screws kicked up the water exactly as a hen's +legs kick in the dust before she settles down to a bath. The little boat +moved un easily from left to right, backed, yawed again, went ahead, and +at last the gray blunt gun's nose was held as straight as a rifle-barrel +on the mark indicated. Then Mr. Davies allowed the whistle to speak as +it is not allowed to speak in Her Majesty's service on account of waste +of steam. The soldiery of the village gathered into knots and groups +and bunches, and the firing up the hill ceased, and every one except the +crew of the flatiron yelled aloud. Something like an English cheer came +down wind. + +"Our chaps in mischief for sure, probably," said Mr. Davies. "They must +have declared war weeks ago, in a kind of way, seems to me." + +"Hold her steady, you son of a soldier!" shouted Bai-Jove-Judson, as the +muzzle fell off the white house. + +Something rang as loudly as a ship's bell on the forward plates of the +flat-iron, something spluttered in the water, and another thing cut a +groove in the deck planking an inch in front of Bai-Jove-Judson's left +foot. The saddle-coloured soldiery were firing as the mood took them, +and the man in the litter waved a shining sword. The muzzle of the big +gun kicked down a fraction as it was laid on the mud wall at the bottom +of the house garden. Ten pounds of gunpowder shut up in a hundred pounds +of metal was its charge. Three or four yards of the mud wall jumped up a +little, as a man jumps when he is caught in the small of the back with +a knee-cap, and then fell forward, spreading fan-wise in the fall. The +soldiery fired no more that day, and Judson saw an old black woman climb +to the flat roof of the house. She fumbled for a time with the flag +halliards, then finding that they were jammed, took off her one garment, +which happened to be an Isabella-coloured petticoat, and waved it +impatiently. The man in the litter flourished a white handkerchief, and +Bai-Jove-Judson grinned. "Now we'll give 'em one up the hill. Round +with her, Mr. Davies. Curse the man who invented those floating gun +platforms. Where can I pitch in a notice without slaying one of those +little devils?" + +The side of the slope was speckled with men returning in a disorderly +fashion to the river front. Behind them marched a small but very compact +body of men who had filed out of the stockade. These last dragged +quick-firing guns with them. + +"Bai Jove, it's a regular army. I wonder whose," said Bai-Jove-Judson, +and he waited developments. The descending troops met and mixed with the +troops in the village, and, with the litter in the centre, crowded down +to the river, till the men with the quick-firing guns came up behind +them. Then they divided left and right and the detachment marched +through. + +"Heave these damned things over!" said the leader of the party, and one +after another ten little gatlings splashed into the muddy water. The +flatiron lay close to the bank. + +"When you're quite done," said Bai-Jove-Judson politely, "would you mind +telling me what's the matter? I'm in charge here." + +"We're the Pioneers of the General Development Company," said the +leader. "These little bounders have been hammering us in lager for +twelve hours, and we're getting rid of their gatlings. Had to climb out +and take them; but they've snaffled the lock-actions. Glad to see you." + +"Any one hurt?" + +"No one killed exactly, but we're very dry." + +"Can you hold your men?" + +The man turned round and looked at his command with a grin. There were +seventy of them, all dusty and unkempt. + +"We sha'n't sack this ash-bin, if that's what you mean. We're mostly +gentlemen here, though we don't look it." + +"All right. Send the head of this post, or fort, or village, or whatever +it is, aboard, and make what arrangements you can for your men." + +"We'll find some barrack accommodation somewhere. Hullo! You in the +litter there, go aboard the gunboat." The command wheeled round, pushed +through the dislocated soldiery, and began to search through the village +for spare huts. + +The little man in the litter came aboard smiling nervously. He was in +the fullest of full uniform, with many yards of gold lace and dangling +chains. Also he wore very large spurs; the nearest horse being not more +than four hundred miles away. "My children," said he, facing the silent +soldiery, "lay aside your arms." + +Most of the men had dropped them already and were sitting down to smoke. +"Let nothing," he added in his own tongue, "tempt you to kill these who +have sought your protection." + +"Now," said Bai-Jove-Judson, on whom the last remark was lost, "will +you have the goodness to explain what the deuce you mean by all this +nonsense?" + +"It was of a necessitate," said the little man. "The operations of war +are unconformible. I am the Governor and I operate Captain. Be'old my +little sword." + +"Confound your little sword, sir. I don't want it. You've fired on our +flag. You've been firing at our people here for a week, and I've been +fired at coming up the river." + +"Ah! The 'Guadala'. She have misconstrued you for a slaver possibly. How +are the 'Guadala'?" + +"Mistook a ship of Her Majesty's navy for a slaver! You mistake any +craft for a slaver! Bai Jove, sir, I've a good mind to hang you at the +yard-arm!" + +There was nothing nearer that terrible spar than the walking-stick in +the rack of Judson's cabin. The Governor looked at the one mast and +smiled a deprecating smile. + +"The position is embarrassment," he said. "Captain, do you think those +illustrious traders burn my capital? My people will give them beer." + +"Never mind the traders, I want an explanation." + +"Hum! There are popular uprising in Europe, Captain--in my country." His +eye wandered aimlessly round the horizon. + +"What has that to do with--" + +"Captain, you are very young. There is still uproariment. But!"--here +he slapped his chest till his epaulets jingled--"I am loyalist to pits +of all my stomachs." + +"Go on," said Judson, and his mouth quivered. + +"An order arrive to me to establish a custom-houses here, and to collect +of the taximent from the traders when she are come here necessarily. +That was on account of political understandings with your country and +mine. But on that arrangement there was no money also. Not one damn +little cowrie. I desire damnably to extend all commercial things, and +why? I am loyalist and there is rebellion--yes, I tell you--Republics +in my country for to just begin. You do not believe? See some time how +it exist. I cannot make this custom-houses and pay the so high-paid +officials. The people too in my country they say the king she has +no regardance into Honour of her nation. He throw away +everything--Gladstone her all, you say, pay?" + +"Yes, that's what we say," said Judson with a grin. + +"Therefore they say, let us be Republics on hot cakes. But I--I am +loyalist to all my hands' ends. Captain, once I was attache at Mexico. +I say the Republics are no good. The peoples have her stomach high. They +desire--they desire--a course for the bills." + +"What on earth is that?" + +"The cock-fight for pay at the gate. You give something, pay for see +bloody row. Do I make its comprehension?" + +"A run for their money--is that what you mean? Gad, you're sporting, +Governor." + +"So I say. I am loyalist, too." He smiled more easily. "Now how can +anything do herself for the customs-houses; but when the Company's mens +she arrives, then a cock-fight for pay at gate that is quite correct. My +army he says it will Republic and shoot me off upon walls if I have +not give her blood. An army, Captain, are terrible in her +angries--especialment when she are not paid. I know, too," here he laid +his hand on Judson's shoulder, "I know too we are old friends. Yes! +Badajos, Almeida, Fuentes d'Onor--time ever since; and a little, little +cock-fight for pay at gate that is good for my king. More sit her tight +on throne behind, you see? Now," he waved his hand round the decayed +village, "I say to my armies, Fight! Fight the Company's men when she +come, but fight not so very strong that you are any deads. It is all +in the raporta that I send. But you understand, Captain, we are good +friends all the time. Ah! Ciudad Rodrigo, you remember? No? Perhaps your +father, then? So you see no one are deads, and we fight a fight, and +it is all in the raporta, to please the people in our country, and my +armies they do not put me against the walls. You see?" + +"Yes; but the 'Guadala'. She fired on us. Was that part of your game, my +joker?" + +"The 'Guadala'. Ah! No, I think not. Her captain he is too big fool. But +I think she have gone down the coast. Those your gunboats poke her nose +and shove her oar in every place. How is 'Guadala'?" + +"On a shoal. Stuck till I take her off." "There are any deads?" + +"No." + +The Governor drew a breath of deep relief. "There are no deads here. So +you see none are deads anywhere, and nothing is done. Captain, you talk +to the Company's mens. I think they are not pleased." + +"Naturally." + +"They have no sense. I thought to go backwards again they would. I leave +her stockade alone all night to let them out, but they stay and come +facewards to me, not backwards. They did not know we must conquer much +in all these battles, or the king, he is kicked off her throne. Now we +have won this battle--this great battle," he waved his arms abroad, +"and I think you will say so that we have won, Captain. You are loyalist +also. You would not disturb to the peaceful Europe? Captain, I tell you +this. Your Queen she know too. She would not fight her cousins. It is +a--a hand-up thing." + +"What?" + +"Hand-up thing. Jobe you put. How you say?" + +"Put-up job?" + +"Yes. Put-up job. Who is hurt? We win. You lose. All righta?" + +Bai-Jove-Judson had been exploding at intervals for the last five +minutes. Here he broke down completely and roared aloud. + +"But look here, Governor," he said at last, "I've got to think of other +things than your riots in Europe. You've fired on our flag." + +"Captain, if you are me, you would have done how? And also, and also," +he drew himself up to his full height, "we are both brave men of bravest +countries. Our honour is the honour of our King," here he uncovered, +"and of our Queen," here he bowed low. "Now, Captain, you shall shell my +palace and I shall be your prisoner." + +"Skittles!" said Bai-Jove-Judson. "I can't shell that old hencoop." + +"Then come to dinner. Madeira, she are still to us, and I have of the +best she manufac." + +He skipped over the side beaming, and Bai-Jove-Judson went into the +cabin to laugh his laugh out. When he had recovered a little he sent Mr. +Davies to the head of the Pioneers, the dusty man with the gatlings, and +the troops who had abandoned the pursuit of arms watched the disgraceful +spectacle of two men reeling with laughter on the quarter-deck of a +gunboat. + +"I'll put my men to build him a custom-house," said the head of the +Pioneers, gasping. "We'll make him one decent road at least. That +Governor ought to be knighted. I'm glad now that we didn't fight 'em in +the open, or we'd have killed some of them. So he's won great battles, +has he? Give him the compliments of the victims, and tell him I'm coming +to dinner. You haven't such a thing as a dress-suit, have you? I haven't +seen one for six months." + +That evening there was a dinner in the village--a general and +enthusiastic dinner, whose head was in the Governor's house, and whose +tail threshed at large throughout all the streets. The Madeira was +everything that the Governor had said, and more, and it was tested +against two or three bottles of Bai-Jove-Judson's best Vanderhum, which +is Cape brandy ten years in the bottle, flavoured with orange-peel and +spices. Before the coffee was removed (by the lady who had made the flag +of truce) the Governor had sold the whole of his governorship and its +appurtenances, once to Bai-Jove-Judson for services rendered by Judson's +grandfather in the Peninsular War, and once to the head of the Pioneers, +in consideration of that gentleman's good friendship. After the +negotiation he retreated for a while into an inner apartment, and there +evolved a true and complete account of the defeat of the British +arms, which he read with his cocked hat over one eye to Judson and his +companion. It was Judson who suggested the sinking of the flat-iron with +all hands, and the head of the Pioneers who supplied the list of killed +and wounded (not more than two hundred) in his command. + +"Gentlemen," said the Governor from under his cocked hat, "the peace of +Europe are saved by this raporta. You shall all be Knights of the Golden +Hide. She shall go by the 'Guadala'." + +"Great Heavens!" said Bai-Jove Judson, flushed but composed, "that +reminds me I've left that boat stuck on her broadside down the river. +I must go down and soothe the commandante. He'll be blue with rage. +Governor, let us go a sail on the river to cool our heads. A picnic, you +understand." + +"Ya--as, everything I understand. Ho! A picnica! You are all my +prisoner, but I am good gaoler. We shall picnic on the river, and we +shall take all the girls. Come on, my prisoners." + +"I do hope," said the head of the Pioneers, staring from the verandah +into the roaring village, "that my chaps won't set the town alight by +accident. Hullo! Hullo! A guard of honour for His Excellency the most +illustrious Governor!" + +Some thirty men answered the call, made a swaying line upon a more +swaying course, and bore the Governor most swayingly of all high in the +arms as they staggered down to the river. And the song that they sang +bade them, "Swing, swing together their body between their knees"; and +they obeyed the words of the song faithfully, except that they were +anything but "steady from stroke to bow." His Excellency the Governor +slept on his uneasy litter, and did not wake when the chorus dropped him +on the deck of the flat-iron. + +"Good-night and good-bye," said the head of the Pioneers to Judson; "I'd +give you my card if I had it, but I'm so damned drunk I hardly know +my own club. Oh, yes! It's the Travellers. If ever we meet in Town, +remember me. I must stay here and look after my fellows. We're all right +in the open, now. I s'pose you'll return the Governor some time. This is +a political crisis. Good-night." + +The flat-iron went down stream through the dark. The Governor slept on +deck, and Judson took the wheel, but how he steered, and why he did +not run into each bank many times, that officer does not remember. Mr. +Davies did not note anything unusual, for there are two ways of taking +too much, and Judson was only ward-room, not foc's'le drunk. As the +night grew colder the Governor woke up, and expressed a desire for +whiskey and soda. When that came they were nearly abreast of the +stranded "Guadala", and His Excellency saluted the flag that he could +not see with loyal and patriotic strains. + +"They do not see. They do not hear," he cried. "Ten thousand saints! +They sleep, and I have won battles! Ha!" + +He started forward to the gun, which, very naturally, was loaded, pulled +the lanyard, and woke the dead night with the roar of the full charge +behind a common shell. That shell mercifully just missed the stern +of the "Guadala", and burst on the bank. "Now you shall salute your +Governor," said he, as he heard feet running in all directions within +the iron skin. "Why you demand so base a quarter? I am here with all my +prisoners." + +In the hurly-burly and the general shriek for mercy his reassurances +were not heard. + +"Captain," said a grave voice from the ship, "we have surrendered. Is it +the custom of the English to fire on a helpless ship'?" + +"Surrendered! Holy Virgin! I go to cut off all their heads. You shall be +ate by wild ants--flogged and drowned. Throw me a balcony. It is I, +the Governor! You shall never surrender. Judson of my soul, ascend her +insides, and send me a bed, for I am sleepy; but, oh, I will multiple +time kill that captain!" + +"Oh!" said the voice in the darkness, "I begin to comprehend." And a +rope-ladder was thrown, up which the Governor scrambled, with Judson at +his heels. + +"Now we will enjoy executions," said the Governor on the deck. "All +these Republicans shall be shot. Little Judson, if I am not drunk, why +are so sloping the boards which do not support?" + +The deck, as I have said, was at a very stiff cant. His Excellency sat +down, slid to leeward, and was asleep again. + +The captain of the "Guadala" bit his moustache furiously, and muttered +in his own tongue: "This land is the father of great villains and +the stepfather of honest men. You see our material, Captain. It is so +everywhere with us. You have killed some of the rats, I hope?" + +"Not a rat," said Judson genially. + +"That is a pity. If they were dead, our country might send us men; but +our country is dead too, and I am dishonoured on a mud-bank through your +English treachery." + +"Well, it seems to me that firing on a little tub of our size without +a word of warning, when you know that the countries were at peace, is +treachery enough in a small way." + +"If one of my guns had touched you, you would have gone to the bottom, +all of you. I would have taken the risk with my Government. By that time +it would have been--" + +"A Republic? So you really did mean fighting on your own hook? You're +rather a dangerous officer to cut loose in a navy like yours. Well, what +are you going to do now?" + +"Stay here. Go away in boats. What does it matter? That drunken cat"--he +pointed to the shadow in which the Governor slept--"is here. I must +take him back to his hole." + +"Very good. I'll tow you off at daylight if you get steam ready." + +"Captain, I warn you that as soon as she floats again I will fight you." + +"Humbug! You'll have lunch with me, and then you'll take the Governor up +the river." + +The captain was silent for some time. Then he said: "Let us drink. What +must be, must be; and after all we have not forgotten the Peninsula. +You will admit, Captain, that it is bad to be run upon a shoal like a +mud-dredger?" + +"Oh, we'll pull you off before you can say knife. Take care of His +Excellency. I shall try to get a little sleep now." + +They slept on both ships till the morning, and then the work of towing +off the "Guadala" began. With the help of her own engines, and the +tugging and puffing of the flat-iron, she slid off the mud-bank sideways +into the deep water, the flatiron immediately under her stern, and the +big eye of the four-inch gun almost peering through the window of the +captain's cabin. + +Remorse in the shape of a violent headache had overtaken the Governor. +He was uneasily conscious that he might, perhaps, have exceeded his +powers; and the captain of the "Guadala", in spite of all his patriotic +sentiments, remembered distinctly that no war had been declared between +the two countries. He did not need the Governor's repeated reminders +that war, serious war, meant a Republic at home, possible supersession +in his command, and much shooting of living men against dead walls. + +"We have satisfied our honour," said the Governor in confidence. "Our +army is appeased, and the raporta that you take home will show that we +were loyal and brave. That other captain? Bah! he is a boy. He will call +this a--a-. Judson of my soul, how you say this is--all this affairs +which have transpirated between us?" + +Judson was watching the last hawser slipping through the fairlead. +"Call it? Oh, I should call it rather a lark. Now your boat's all right, +Captain. When will you come to lunch?" + +"I told you," said the Governor, "it would be a larque to him." + +"Mother of the Saints! then what is his seriousness?" said the captain. +"We shall be happy to come when you please. Indeed, we have no other +choice," he added bitterly. + +"Not at all," said Judson, and as he looked at the three or four +shot-blisters on the bows of his boat a brilliant idea took him. "It +is we who are at your mercy. See how His Excellency's guns knocked us +about." + +"Senior Captain," said the Governor pityingly, "that is very sad. You +are most injured, and your deck too, it is all shot over. We shall not +be too severe on a beat man, shall we, Captain?" + +"You couldn't spare us a little paint, could you? I'd like to patch up a +little after the--action," said Judson meditatively, fingering his upper +lip to hide a smile. + +"Our store-room is at your disposition," said the captain of the +"Guadala", and his eye brightened; for a few lead splashes on gray paint +make a big show. + +"Mr. Davies, go aboard and see what they have to spare--to spare, +remember. Their spar-colour with a little working up should be just our +freeboard tint." + +"Oh, yes. I'll spare them," said Mr. Davies savagely. "I don't +understand this how-d'you-do and damn-your-eyes business coming one atop +of the other in a manner o' speaking. By all rights, they're our lawful +prize." + +The Governor and the captain came to lunch in the absence of Mr. Davies. +Bai-Jove-Judson had not much to offer, but what he had was given as by +a beaten foeman to a generous conqueror. When they were a little +warmed--the Governor genial and the captain almost effusive--he +explained, quite casually, over the opening of a bottle that it would +not be to his interest to report the affair seriously, and it was in the +highest degree improbable that the Admiral would treat it in any grave +fashion. + +"When my decks are cut up" (there was one groove across four planks), +"and my plates buckled" (there were five lead patches on three plates), +"and I meet such a boat as the 'Guadala', and a mere accident saves me +from being blown out of the water--" + +"Yes. A mere accident, Captain. The shoal-buoy has been lost," said the +captain of the 'Guadala'. + +"Ah? I do not know this river. That was very sad. But as I was saying, +when an accident saves me from being sunk, what can I do but go away--if +that is possible? But I fear that I have no coal for the sea voyage. +It is very sad." Judson had compromised on what he knew of the French +tongue as a working language. + +"It is enough," said the Governor, waving a generous hand. "Judson of +my soul, the coal is yours, and you shall be repaired--yes, repaired all +over of your battle's wounds. You shall go with all the honours of all +the wars. Your flag shall fly. Your drum shall beat. Your, ah!--jolly +boys shall spoke their bayonets. Is it not so, Captain?" + +"As you say, Excellency. But the traders in the town. What of them?" + +The Governor looked puzzled for an instant. He could not quite remember +what had happened to those jovial men who had cheered him over night. +Judson interrupted swiftly: "His Excellency has set them to forced works +on barracks and magazines, and, I think, a custom-house. When that is +done they will be released, I hope, Excellency." + +"Yes, they shall be released for your sake, little Judson of my heart." +Then they drank the health of their respective sovereigns, while Mr. +Davies superintended the removal of the scarred plank and the shot-marks +on the deck and the bow-plates. + +"Oh, this is too bad," said Judson when they went on deck. "That idiot +has exceeded his instructions, but--but yow must let me pay for this!" + +Mr. Davies, his legs in the water as he sat on a staging slung over +the bows, was acutely conscious that he was being blamed in a foreign +tongue. He smiled uneasily, and went on with his work. + +"What is it?" said the Governor. + +"That thick-head has thought that we needed some gold-leaf, and he has +borrowed that from your storeroom, but I must make it good." Then in +English, "Stand up, Mr. Davies. What the--in--do you mean by taking +their gold-leaf? My--, are we a set of pirates to scrape the guts out +of a Levantine bumboat? Look contrite, you butt-ended, broad-breeched, +bottle-bellied, swivel-eyed son of a tinker, you! My Soul alive, can't +I maintain discipline in my own ship without a blacksmith of a +boiler-riveter putting me to shame before a yellow-nosed picaroon. Get +off the staging, Mr. Davies, and go to the engine-room. Put down that +leaf first, though, and leave the books where they are. I'll send for +you in a minute. Go aft!" + +Now, only the upper half of Mr. Davies's round face was above the +bulwarks when this torrent of abuse descended upon him; and it rose inch +by inch as the shower continued: blank amazement, bewilderment, rage, +and injured pride chasing each other across it till he saw his superior +officer's left eyelid flutter on the cheek twice. Then he fled to the +engine-room, and wiping his brow with a handful of cotton-waste, sat +down to overtake circumstances. + +"I am desolated," said Judson to his companions, "but you see the +material that you give us. This leaves me more in your debt than +before. The stuff I can replace" (gold-leaf is never carried on +floating gun-platforms), "but for the insolence of that man how shall I +apologise?" + +Mr. Davies's mind moved slowly, but after a while he transferred the +cotton-waste from his forehead to his mouth and bit on it to prevent +laughter. He began a second dance on the engine-room plates. "Neat! Oh, +damned neat!" he chuckled. "I've served with a good few, but there never +was one so neat as him. And I thought he was the new kind that don't +know how to put a few words, as it were!" + +"Mr. Davies, you can continue your work," said Judson down the +engine-room hatch. "These officers have been good enough to speak in +your favour. Make a thorough job of it while you are about it. Slap on +every man you have. Where did you get hold of it?" + +"Their storeroom is a regular theatre, sir. You couldn't miss it. +There's enough for two first-rates, and I've scoffed the best half of +it." + +"Look sharp, then. We shall be coaling from her this afternoon. You'll +have to cover it all." + +"Neat! Oh, damned neat!" said Mr. Davies under his breath, as he +gathered his subordinates together, and set about accomplishing the +long-deferred wish of Judson's heart. + +It was the "Martin Frobisher", the flag-ship, a great war-boat when she +was new, in the days when men built for sail as well as for steam. She +could turn twelve knots under full sail, and it was under that that she +stood up the mouth of the river, a pyramid of silver beneath the +moon. The Admiral, fearing that he had given Judson a task beyond his +strength, was coming to look for him, and incidentally to do a little +diplomatic work along the coast. There was hardly wind enough to move +the "Frobisher" a couple of knots an hour, and the silence of the land +closed about her as she entered the fairway. Her yards sighed a little +from time to time, and the ripple under her bows answered the sigh. The +full moon rose over the steaming swamps, and the Admiral, gazing upon +it, thought less of Judson and more of the softer emotions. In answer to +the very mood of his mind, there floated across the silver levels of the +water, mellowed by distance to a most poignant sweetness, the throb of +a mandolin, and the voice of one who called upon a genteel Julia--upon +Julia, and upon love. The song ceased, and the sighing of the yards was +all that broke the silence of the big ship. + +Again the mandolin began, and the commander on the lee side of the +quarter-deck grinned a grin that was reflected in the face of the +signal-midshipman. Not a word of the song was lost, and the voice of the +singer was the voice of Judson. + + "Last week down our alley came a toff, + Nice old geyser with a nasty cough, + Sees my missus, takes his topper off, + Quite in a gentlemanly way "-- + +and so on to the end of the verse. The chorus was borne by several +voices, and the signal-midshipman's foot began to tap the deck +furtively. + + "'What cheer!' all the neighbours cried. + ''Oo are you going to meet, Bill? + 'Ave you bought the street, Bill?' + Laugh?--I thought I should ha' died + When I knocked 'em in the old Kent Road." + + +It was the Admiral's gig, rowing softly, that came into the midst +of that merry little smoking-concert. It was Judson, the beribboned +mandolin round his neck, who received the Admiral as he came up the side +of the "Guadala", and it may or may not have been the Admiral who stayed +till two in the morning and delighted the hearts of the Captain and +the Governor. He had come as an unbidden guest, and he departed as an +honoured one, but strictly unofficial throughout. Judson told his tale +next day in the Admiral's cabin as well as he could in the face of the +Admiral's gales of laughter, but the most amazing tale was that told by +Mr. Davies to his friends in the dockyard at Simon's Town from the +point of view of a second-class engine-room artificer, all unversed in +diplomacy. + +And if there be no truth either in my tale, which is Judson's tale, or +the tale of Mr. Davies, you will not find in harbour at Simon's Town +to-day a flat-bottomed twin-screw gunboat, designed solely for the +defence of rivers, about two hundred and seventy tons' displacement and +five feet draught, wearing in open defiance of the rules of the +Service a gold line on her gray paint. It follows also that you will +be compelled to credit that version of the fray which, signed by His +Excellency the Governor and despatched in the "Guadala", satisfied the +self-love of a great and glorious people, and saved a monarchy from the +ill-considered despotism which is called a Republic. + + + + +A CONFERENCE OF THE POWERS + + Life liveth but in life, and doth not roam + To other lands if all be well at home: + "Solid as ocean foam," quoth ocean foam. + +The room was blue with the smoke of three pipes and a cigar. The +leave-season had opened in India, and the first-fruits on this side of +the water were "Tick" Boileau, of the 45th Bengal Cavalry, who called +on me, after three years' absence, to discuss old things which had +happened. Fate, who always does her work handsomely, sent up the same +staircase within the same hour The Infant, fresh from Upper Burma, and +he and Boileau looking out of my window saw walking in the street one +Nevin, late in a Goorkha regiment which had been through the Black +Mountain Expedition. They yelled to him to come up, and the whole Street +was aware that they desired him to come up, and he came up, and there +followed Pandemonium in my room because we had foregathered from the +ends of the earth, and three of us were on a holiday, and none of us +were twenty-five, and all the delights of all London lay waiting our +pleasure. + +Boileau took the only other chair, The Infant, by right of his bulk, the +sofa; and Nevin, being a little man, sat cross-legged on the top of the +revolving bookcase, and we all said, "Who'd ha' thought it!" and "What +are you doing here?" till speculation was exhausted and the talk went +over to inevitable "shop." Boileau was full of a great scheme for +winning a military attache-ship at St. Petersburg; Nevin had hopes of +the Staff College, and The Infant had been moving heaven and earth and +the Horse Guards for a commission in the Egyptian army. + +"What's the use o' that?" said Nevin, twirling round on the bookcase. + +"Oh, heaps! 'Course if you get stuck with a Fellaheen regiment, you're +sold; but if you are appointed to a Soudanese lot, you're in clover. +They are first-class fighting-men--and just think of the eligible +central position of Egypt in the next row!" + +This was putting the match to a magazine. We all began to explain the +Central Asian question off-hand, flinging army corps from the Helmund to +Kashmir with more than Russian recklessness. Each of the boys made for +himself a war to his own liking, and when we had settled all the details +of Armageddon, killed all our senior officers, handled a division +apiece, and nearly torn the atlas in two in attempts to explain our +theories, Boileau needs must lift up his voice above the clamour, +and cry, "Anyhow it'll be the hell of a row!" in tones that carried +conviction far down the staircase. + +Entered, unperceived in the smoke, William the Silent. "Gen'elman to +see you, sir," said he, and disappeared, leaving in his stead none other +than Mr. Eustace Cleever. William would have introduced the Dragon of +Wantley with equal disregard of present company. + +"I--I beg your pardon. I didn't know that there was anybody--with +you.--" + +But it was not seemly to allow Mr. Cleever to depart; he was a great +man. The boys remained where they were, for any movement would have +choked up the little room. Only when they saw his gray hairs they stood +on their feet, and when The Infant caught the name, he said: + +"Are you--did you write that book called 'As it was in the Beginning'?" + +Mr. Cleever admitted that he had written the book. + +"Then--then I don't know how to thank you, sir," said The Infant, +flushing pink. "I was brought up in the country you wrote about--all my +people live there; and I read the book in camp on the Hlinedatalone, and +I knew every stick and stone, and the dialect too; and, by Jove! it was +just like being at home and hearing the country people talk. Nevin, you +know 'As it was in the Beginning'? So does Ti--Boileau." + +Mr. Cleever has tasted as much praise, public and private, as one man +may safely swallow; but it seemed to me that the outspoken admiration in +The Infant's eyes and the little stir in the little company came home to +him very nearly indeed. + +"Won't you take the sofa?" said The Infant. "I'll sit on Boileau's +chair, and--" here he looked at me to spur me to my duties as a host; +but I was watching the novelist's face. Cleever had not the least +intention of going away, but settled himself on the sofa. + +Following the first great law of the Army, which says "all property is +common except money, and you've only got to ask the next man for that," +The Infant offered tobacco and drink. It was the least he could do; but +not the most lavish praise in the world held half as much appreciation +and reverence as The Infant's simple "Say when, sir," above the long +glass. + +Cleever said "when," and more thereto, for he was a golden talker, +and he sat in the midst of hero-worship devoid of all taint of +self-interest. The boys asked him of the birth of his book, and whether +it was hard to write, and how his notions came to him; and he answered +with the same absolute simplicity as he was questioned. His big eyes +twinkled, he dug his long thin hands into his gray beard and tugged +it as he grew animated. He dropped little by little from the peculiar +pinching of the broader vowels--the indefinable "euh," that runs through +the speech of the pundit caste--and the elaborate choice of words, +to freely-mouthed "ows" and "ois," and, for him at least, unfettered +colloquialisms. He could not altogether understand the boys, who hung +upon his words so reverently. The line of the chin-strap, that still +showed white and untanned on cheekbone and jaw, the steadfast young eyes +puckered at the corners of the lids with much staring through red-hot +sunshine, the slow, untroubled breathing, and the curious, crisp, curt +speech seemed to puzzle him equally. He could create men and women, +and send them to the uttermost ends of the earth, to help, delight, and +comfort; he knew every mood of the fields, and could interpret them to +the cities, and he knew the hearts of many in city and country, but he +had hardly, in forty years, come into contact with the thing which is +called a Subaltern of the Line. He told the boys this in his own way. + +"Well, how should you?" said The Infant. "You--you're quite different, +y' see, sir." + +The Infant expressed his ideas in his tone rather than his words, but +Cleever understood the compliment. + +"We're only Subs," said Nevin, "and we aren't exactly the sort of men +you'd meet much in your life, I s'pose." + +"That's true," said Cleever. "I live chiefly among men who write, +and paint, and sculp, and so forth. We have our own talk and our own +interests, and the outer world doesn't trouble us much." + +"That must be awfully jolly," said Boileau, at a venture. "We have our +own shop, too, but 'tisn't half as interesting as yours, of course. You +know all the men who've ever done anything; and we only knock about from +place to place, and we do nothing." + +"The Army's a very lazy profession if you choose to make it so," said +Nevin. "When there's nothing going on, there is nothing going on, and +you lie up." + +"Or try to get a billet somewhere, to be ready for the next show," said +The Infant with a chuckle. + +"To me," said Cleever softly, "the whole idea of warfare seems so +foreign and unnatural, so essentially vulgar, if I may say so, that I +can hardly appreciate your sensations. Of course, though, any change +from idling in garrison towns must be a godsend to you." + +Like many home-staying Englishmen, Cleever believed that the newspaper +phrase he quoted covered the whole duty of the Army whose toils enabled +him to enjoy his many-sided life in peace. The remark was not a happy +one, for Boileau had just come off the Frontier, The Infant had been on +the warpath for nearly eighteen months, and the little red man Nevin +two months before had been sleeping under the stars at the peril of his +life. But none of them tried to explain, till I ventured to point out +that they had all seen service and were not used to idling. Cleever took +in the idea slowly. + +"Seen service?" said he. Then, as a child might ask, "Tell me. Tell me +everything about everything." + +"How do you mean?" said The Infant, delighted at being directly appealed +to by the great man. + +"Good Heavens! How am I to make you understand, if you can't see. In the +first place, what is your age?" + +"Twenty-three next July," said The Infant promptly. + +Cleever questioned the others with his eyes. + +"I'm twenty-four," said Nevin. + +"And I'm twenty-two," said Boileau. + +"And you've all seen service?" + +"We've all knocked about a little bit, sir, but The Infant's the +war-worn veteran. He's had two years' work in Upper Burma," said Nevin. + +"When you say work, what do you mean, you extraordinary creatures?" + +"Explain it, Infant," said Nevin. + +"Oh, keeping things in order generally, and running about after little +dakus--that's dacoits--and so on. There's nothing to explain." + +"Make that young Leviathan speak," said Cleever impatiently, above his +glass. + +"How can he speak?" said I. "He's done the work. The two don't go +together. But, Infant, you're ordered to bukb." + +"What about? I'll try." + +"Bukb about a daur. You've been on heaps of 'em," said Nevin. + +"What in the world does that mean? Has the Army a language of its own?" + +The Infant turned very red. He was afraid he was being laughed at, and +he detested talking before outsiders; but it was the author of "As it +was in the Beginning" who waited. + +"It's all so new to me," pleaded Cleever; "and--and you said you liked +my book." + +This was a direct appeal that The Infant could understand, and he began +rather flurriedly, with much slang bred of nervousness-- + +"Pull me up, sir, if I say anything you don't follow. About six months +before I took my leave out of Burma, I was on the Hlinedatalone, up near +the Shan States, with sixty Tommies--private soldiers, that is--and +another subaltern, a year senior to me. The Burmese business was a +subaltern's war, and our forces were split up into little detachments, +all running about the country and trying to keep the dacoits quiet. The +dacoits were having a first-class time, y' know--filling women up with +kerosene and setting 'em alight, and burning villages, and crucifying +people." + +The wonder in Eustace Cleever's eyes deepened. He could not quite +realise that the cross still existed in any form. + +"Have you ever seen a crucifixion?" said he. + +"Of course not. 'Shouldn't have allowed it if I had; but I've seen the +corpses. The dacoits had a trick of sending a crucified corpse down +the river on a raft, just to show they were keeping their tail up and +enjoying themselves. Well, that was the kind of people I had to deal +with." + +"Alone?" said Cleever. Solitude of the soul he could understand--none +better--but he had never in the body moved ten miles from his fellows. + +"I had my men, but the rest of it was pretty much alone. The nearest +post that could give me orders was fifteen miles away, and we used to +heliograph to them, and they used to give us orders same way--too many +orders." + +"Who was your C. O.?" said Boileau. + +"Bounderby--Major. Pukka Bounderby; more Bounder than pukka. He went out +up Bhamo way. Shot, or cut down, last year," said The Infant. + +"What are these interludes in a strange tongue?" said Cleever to me. + +"Professional information--like the Mississippi pilots' talk," said +I. "He did not approve of his major, who died a violent death. Go on, +Infant." + +"Far too many orders. You couldn't take the Tommies out for a two days' +daur--that's expedition--without being blown up for not asking leave. +And the whole country was humming with dacoits. I used to send out +spies, and act on their information. As soon as a man came in and told +me of a gang in hiding, I'd take thirty men with some grub, and go out +and look for them, while the other subaltern lay doggo in camp." + +"Lay! Pardon me, but how did he lie?" said Cleever. + +"Lay doggo--lay quiet, with the other thirty men. When I came back, he'd +take out his half of the men, and have a good time of his own." + +"Who was he?" said Boileau. + +"Carter-Deecey, of the Aurungabadis. Good chap, but too zubberdusty, and +went bokhar four days out of seven. He's gone out too. Don't interrupt a +man." + +Cleever looked helplessly at me. + +"The other subaltern," I translated swiftly, "came from a native +regiment, and was overbearing in his demeanour. He suffered much from +the fever of the country, and is now dead. Go on, Infant." + +"After a bit, we got into trouble for using the men on frivolous +occasions, and so I used to put my signaller under arrest to prevent him +reading the helio-orders. Then I'd go out and leave a message to be sent +an hour after I got clear of the camp, something like this: 'Received +important information; start in an hour, unless countermanded.' If I +was ordered back, it didn't much matter. I swore the C. O.'s watch was +wrong, or something, when I came back. The Tommies enjoyed the fun, +and--Oh, yes, there was one Tommy who was the bard of the detachment. He +used to make up verses on everything that happened." + +"What sort of verses?" said Cleever. + +"Lovely verses; and the Tommies used to sing 'em. There was one song +with a chorus, and it said something like this." The Infant dropped into +the true barrack-room twang: + +"Theebaw, the Burma king, did a very foolish thing, When 'e mustered +'ostile forces in ar-rai, 'E little thought that we, from far across the +sea, Would send our armies up to Mandalai!" + +"O gorgeous!" said Cleever. "And how magnificently direct! The notion of +a regimental bard is new to me, but of course it must be so." + +"He was awfly popular with the men," said The Infant. "He had them all +down in rhyme as soon as ever they had done anything. He was a great +bard. He was always ready with an elegy when we picked up a Boh--that's +a leader of dacoits." + +"How did you pick him up?" said Cleever. + +"Oh! shot him if he wouldn't surrender." + +"You! Have you shot a man?" + +There was a subdued chuckle from all three boys, and it dawned on the +questioner that one experience in life which was denied to himself, and +he weighed the souls of men in a balance, had been shared by three very +young gentlemen of engaging appearance. He turned round on Nevin, who +had climbed to the top of the bookcase and was sitting cross-legged as +before. + +"And have you, too?" + +"Think so," said Nevin, sweetly. "In the Black Mountain. He was rolling +cliffs on to my half-company, and spoiling our formation. I took a rifle +from a man, and brought him down at the second shot." + +"Good Heavens! And how did you feel afterwards?" + +"Thirsty. I wanted a smoke, too." + +Cleever looked at Boileau--the youngest. Surely his hands were guiltless +of blood. + +Boileau shook his head and laughed. "Go on, Infant," said he. + +"And you too?" said Cleever. + +"Fancy so. It was a case of cut, cut or be cut, with me; so I cut--one. +I couldn't do any more, sir." + +Cleever looked as though he would like to ask many questions, but The +Infant swept on in the full tide of his tale. + +"Well, we were called insubordinate young whelps at last, and strictly +forbidden to take the Tommies out any more without orders. I wasn't +sorry, because Tommy is such an exacting sort of creature. He wants to +live as though he were in barracks all the time. I was grubbing on fowls +and boiled corn, but the Tommies wanted their pound of fresh meat, and +their half ounce of this, and their two ounces of t'other thing, and +they used to come to me and badger me for plug tobacco when we were four +days in jungle. I said: 'I can get you Burma tobacco, but I don't keep +a canteen up my sleeve.' They couldn't see it. They wanted all the +luxuries of the season, confound 'em!" + +"You were alone when you were dealing with these men?" said Cleever, +watching The Infant's face under the palm of his hand. He was receiving +new ideas, and they seemed to trouble him. + +"Of course, unless you count the mosquitoes. They were nearly as big as +the men. After I had to lie doggo I began to look for something to do, +and I was great pals with a man called Hicksey in the Police, the best +man that ever stepped on earth; a first-class man." + +Cleever nodded applause. He knew how to appreciate enthusiasm. + +"Hicksey and I were as thick as thieves. He had some Burma mounted +police--rummy chaps, armed with sword and Snider carbine. They rode +punchy Burma ponies, with string stirrups, red cloth saddles, and red +bell-rope headstalls. Hicksey used to lend me six or eight of them when +I asked him--nippy little devils, keen as mustard. But they told their +wives too much, and all my plans got known, till I learned to give false +marching orders overnight, and take the men to quite a different village +in the morning. Then we used to catch the simple daku before breakfast, +and made him very sick. It's a ghastly country on the Hlinedatalone; all +bamboo jungle, with paths about four feet wide winding through it. The +daku knew all the paths, and potted at us as we came round a corner; but +the mounted police knew the paths as well as the daku, and we used to go +stalking 'em in and out. Once we flushed 'em, the men on the ponies had +the advantage of the men on foot. We held all the country absolutely +quiet for ten miles round, in about a month. Then we took Boh Na-ghee, +Hicksey and I and the civil officer. That was a lark!" + +"I think I am beginning to understand a little," said Cleever. "It was a +pleasure to you to administer and fight?" + +"Rather! There's nothing nicer than a satisfactory little expedition, +when you find your plans fit together, and your information's +teek--correct, you know, and the whole sub-chiz--I mean, when everything +works out like formulae on a blackboard. Hicksey had all the information +about the Boh. He had been burning villages and murdering people right +and left, and cutting up Government convoys, and all that. He was lying +doggo in a village about fifteen miles off, waiting to get a fresh gang +together. So we arranged to take thirty mounted police, and turn him +out before he could plunder into our newly-settled villages. At the last +minute, the civil officer in our part of the world thought he'd assist +at the performance." + +"Who was he?" said Nevin. + +"His name was Dennis," said The Infant slowly. "And we'll let it stay +so. He's a better man now than he was then." + +"But how old was the civil power?" said Cleever. "The situation is +developing itself." + +"He was about six-and-twenty, and he was awf'ly clever. He knew a lot of +things, but I don't think he was quite steady enough for dacoit-hunting. +We started overnight for Boh Na-ghee's village, and we got there just +before morning, without raising an alarm. Dennis had turned out armed +to his teeth--two revolvers, a carbine, and all sorts of things. I was +talking to Hicksey about posting the men, and Dennis edged his pony in +between us, and said, 'What shall I do? What shall I do? Tell me what to +do, you fellows.' We didn't take much notice; but his pony tried to bite +me in the leg, and I said, 'Pull out a bit, old man, till we've settled +the attack.' He kept edging in, and fiddling with his reins and his +revolvers, and saying, 'Dear me! Dear me! Oh, dear me! What do you +think I'd better do?' The man was in a deadly funk, and his teeth were +chattering." + +"I sympathise with the civil power," said Cleever. "Continue, young +Clive." + +"The fun of it was, that he was supposed to be our superior officer. +Hicksey took a good look at him, and told him to attach himself to my +party. Beastly mean of Hicksey, that. The chap kept on edging in +and bothering, instead of asking for some men and taking up his own +position, till I got angry, and the carbines began popping on the other +side of the village. Then I said, 'For God's sake be quiet, and sit +down where you are! If you see anybody come out of the village, shoot +at him.' I knew he couldn't hit a hayrick at a yard. Then I took my men +over the garden wall--over the palisades, y' know--somehow or +other, and the fun began. Hicksey had found the Boh in bed under a +mosquito-curtain, and he had taken a flying jump on to him." + +"A flying jump!" said Cleever. "Is that also war?" + +"Yes," said The Infant, now thoroughly warmed. "Don't you know how you +take a flying jump on to a fellow's head at school, when he snores in +the dormitory? The Boh was sleeping in a bedful of swords and pistols, +and Hicksey came down like Zazel through the netting, and the net got +mixed up with the pistols and the Boh and Hicksey, and they all rolled +on the floor together. I laughed till I couldn't stand, and Hicksey was +cursing me for not helping him; so I left him to fight it out and went +into the village. Our men were slashing about and firing, and so were +the dacoits, and in the thick of the mess some ass set fire to a house, +and we all had to clear out. I froze on to the nearest daku and ran to +the palisade, shoving him in front of me. He wriggled loose and bounded +over the other side. I came after him; but when I had one leg one side +and one leg the other of the palisade, I saw that the daku had fallen +flat on Dennis's head. That man had never moved from where I left him. +They rolled on the ground together, and Dennis's carbine went off and +nearly shot me. The daku picked himself up and ran, and Dennis buzzed +his carbine after him, and it caught him on the back of his head and +knocked him silly. You never saw anything so funny in your life. I +doubled up on the top of the palisade and hung there, yelling with +laughter. But Dennis began to weep like anything. 'Oh, I've killed +a man,' he said. 'I've killed a man, and I shall never know another +peaceful hour in my life. Is he dead? Oh, is he dead? Good Lord, I've +killed a man!' I came down and said, 'Don't be a fool;' but he kept on +shouting, 'Is he dead?' till I could have kicked him. The daku was only +knocked out of time with the carbine. He came to after a bit, and I +said, 'Are you hurt much?' He groaned and said, 'No.' His chest was all +cut with scrambling over the palisade. 'The white man's gun didn't do +that,' he said; 'I did that, and I knocked the white man over.' Just +like a Burman, wasn't it? But Dennis wouldn't be happy at any price. +He said: 'Tie up his wounds. He'll bleed to death. Oh, he'll bleed to +death!' 'Tie 'em up yourself,' I said, 'if you're so anxious.' 'I can't +touch him,' said Dennis, 'but here's my shirt.' He took off his shirt, +and fixed the braces again over his bare shoulders. I ripped the shirt +up, and bandaged the dacoit quite professionally. He was grinning at +Dennis all the time; and Dennis's haversack was lying on the ground, +bursting full of sandwiches. Greedy hog! I took some, and offered some +to Dennis. 'How can I eat?' he said. 'How can you ask me to eat? His +very blood is on your hands now, and you're eating my sandwiches!' 'All +right,' I said; 'I'll give 'em to the daku.' So I did, and the little +chap was quite pleased, and wolfed 'em down like one o'clock." + +Cleever brought his hand down on the table with a thump that made the +empty glasses dance. "That's Art!" he said. "Flat, flagrant mechanism! +Don't tell me that happened on the spot!" + +The pupils of The Infant's eyes contracted to two pin-points. "I beg +your pardon," he said slowly and stiffly, "but I am telling this thing +as it happened." + +Cleever looked at him a moment. "My fault entirely," said he; "I should +have known. Please go on." + +"Hicksey came out of what was left of the village with his prisoners +and captives, all neatly tied up. Boh Na-ghee was first, and one of the +villagers, as soon as he found the old ruffian helpless, began kicking +him quietly. The Boh stood it as long as he could, and then groaned, and +we saw what was going on. Hicksey tied the villager up and gave him a +half a dozen, good, with a bamboo, to remind him to leave a prisoner +alone. You should have seen the old Boh grin. Oh! but Hicksey was in +a furious rage with everybody. He'd got a wipe over the elbow that +had tickled up his funny-bone, and he was rabid with me for not having +helped him with the Boh and the mosquito-net. I had to explain that I +couldn't do anything. If you'd seen 'em both tangled up together on +the floor in one kicking cocoon, you'd have laughed for a week. Hicksey +swore that the only decent man of his acquaintance was the Boh, and +all the way to camp Hicksey was talking to the Boh, and the Boh was +complaining about the soreness of his bones. When we got back, and +had had a bath, the Boh wanted to know when he was going to be hanged. +Hicksey said he couldn't oblige him on the spot, but had to send him to +Rangoon. The Boh went down on his knees, and reeled off a catalogue of +his crimes--he ought to have been hanged seventeen times over, by his +own confession--and implored Hicksey to settle the business out of hand. +'If I'm sent to Rangoon,' said he, 'they'll keep me in jail all my life, +and that is a death every time the sun gets up or the wind blows.' +But we had to send him to Rangoon, and, of course, he was let off down +there, and given penal servitude for life. When I came to Rangoon I went +over the jail--I had helped to fill it, y' know--and the old Boh was +there, and he spotted me at once. He begged for some opium first, and I +tried to get him some, but that was against the rules. Then he asked me +to have his Sentence changed to death, because he was afraid of being +sent to the Andamans. I couldn't do that either, but I tried to cheer +him, and told him how things were going up-country, and the last thing +he said was--'Give my compliments to the fat white man who jumped on +me. If I'd been awake I'd have killed him.' I wrote that to Hicksey next +mail, and--and that's all. I'm 'fraid I've been gassing awf'ly, sir." + +Cleever said nothing for a long time. The Infant looked uncomfortable. +He feared that, misled by enthusiasm, he had filled up the novelist's +time with unprofitable recital of trivial anecdotes. + +Then said Cleever, "I can't understand. Why should you have seen and +done all these things before you have cut your wisdom-teeth?" + +"Don't know," said The Infant apologetically. "I haven't seen much--only +Burmese jungle." + +"And dead men, and war, and power, and responsibility," said Cleever, +under his breath. "You won't have any sensations left at thirty, if you +go on as you have done. But I want to hear more tales--more tales!" He +seemed to forget that even subalterns might have engagements of their +own. + +"We're thinking of dining out somewhere--the lot of us--and going on to +the Empire afterwards," said Nevin, with hesitation. He did not like to +ask Cleever to come too. The invitation might be regarded as perilously +near to "cheek." And Cleever, anxious not to wag a gray beard unbidden +among boys at large, said nothing on his side. + +Boileau solved the little difficulty by blurting out: "Won't you come +too, sir?" + +Cleever almost shouted "Yes," and while he was being helped into his +coat continued to murmur "Good Heavens!" at intervals in a way that the +boys could not understand. + +"I don't think I've been to the Empire in my life," said he; "but--what +is my life after all? Let us go." + +They went out with Eustace Cleever, and I sulked at home because they +had come to see me, but had gone over to the better man; which was +humiliating. They packed him into a cab with utmost reverence, for was +he not the author of "As it was in the Beginning," and a person in whose +company it was an honour to go abroad? From all I gathered later, he +had taken less interest in the performance before him than in their +conversations, and they protested with emphasis that he was "as good a +man as they make; knew what a man was driving at almost before he said +it; and yet he's so damned simple about things any man knows." That was +one of many comments. + +At midnight they returned, announcing that they were "highly respectable +gondoliers," and that oysters and stout were what they chiefly needed. +The eminent novelist was still with them, and I think he was calling +them by their shorter names. I am certain that he said he had been +moving in worlds not realised, and that they had shown him the Empire in +a new light. + +Still sore at recent neglect, I answered shortly, "Thank Heaven we have +within the land ten thousand as good as they," and when he departed, +asked him what he thought of things generally. + +He replied with another quotation, to the effect that though singing +was a remarkably fine performance, I was to be quite sure that few lips +would be moved to song if they could find a sufficiency of kissing. + +Whereby I understood that Eustace Cleever, decorator and colourman in +words, was blaspheming his own Art, and would be sorry for this in the +morning. + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Soldiers Three, Part II., by Rudyard Kipling + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SOLDIERS THREE, PART II. *** + +***** This file should be named 2227.txt or 2227.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/2/2227/ + +Produced by Bill Stoddard + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +This Etext repared by Bill Stoddard - Email: hscrr@vgernet.net + + + + + +SOLDIERS THREE + +by Rudyard Kipling + + + + +CONTENTS + +"LOVE-O'-WOMEN" - from "Many Inventions" +THE BIG DRUNK DRAF' +THE MUTINY OF THE MAVERICKS +THE MAN WHO WAS +ONLY A SUBALTERN +IN THE MATTER OF A PRIVATE +THE LOST LEGION - from "Many Inventions" +THE DRUMS OF THE FORE AND AFT +JUDSON AND THE EMPIRE - from "Many Inventions" +A CONFERENCE OF THE POWERS - from "Many Inventions" + + + + +'LOVE-O'WOMEN' + +A lamentable tale of things +Done long ago, and ill done. + +The horror, the confusion, and the separation +of the murderer from his comrades were all over before I came. +There remained only on the barrack-square the blood of man calling +from the ground. The hot sun had dried it to a dusky gold-beater- +skin film, cracked lozenge-wise by the heat, and as the wind rose +each lozenge, rising a little, curled up at the edges as if it +were a dumb tongue. Then a heavier gust blew all away down wind in +grains of dark-coloured dust. It was too hot to stand in the +sunshine before breakfast. The men were all in barracks talking +the matter over. A knot of soldiers' wives stood by one of the +entrances to the married quarters, while inside a woman shrieked +and raved with wicked filthy words. + +A quiet and well-conducted sergeant had shot down in broad +daylight just after early parade one of his own corporals, had +then returned to barracks and sat on a cot till the guard came for +him. He would, therefore, in due time be handed over to the High +Court for trial. Further, but this he could hardly have considered +in his scheme of revenge, he would horribly upset my work; for the +reporting of the trial would fall on me without a relief. What +that trial would be like I knew even to weariness. There would be +the rifle carefully uncleaned, with the fouling marks about breech +and muzzle, to be sworn to by half a dozen superfluous privates; +there would be heat, reeking heat, till the wet pencil slipped +sideways between the fingers; and the punkah would swish and the +pleaders would jabber in the verandahs, and his Commanding Officer +would put in certificates of the prisoner's moral character, while +the jury would pant and the summer uniforms of the witnesses would +smell of dye and soaps; and some abject barrack-sweeper would lose +his head in cross-examination, and the young barrister who always +defended soldiers' cases for the credit that they never brought +him, would say and do wonderful things, and would then quarrel +with me because I had not reported him correctly. At the last, for +he surely would not be hanged, I might meet the prisoner again, +ruling blank account-forms in the Central Jail, and cheer him with +the hope of a wardership in the Andamans. + +The Indian Penal Code and its interpreters do not treat murder, +under any provocation whatever, +in a spirit of jest. Sergeant Raines would be very lucky indeed if +he got off with seven years, I thought. He had slept the night +upon his wrongs, and had killed his man at twenty yards before any +talk was possible. That much I knew. Unless, therefore, the case +was doctored a little, seven years would be his least; and I +fancied it was exceedingly well for Sergeant Raines that he had +been liked by his Company. + +That same evening - no day is so long as the day of a murder - I +met Ortheris with the dogs, and he plunged defiantly into the +middle of the matter. "I'll be one o' the witnesses," said he. "I +was in the verandah when Mackie came along. 'E come from Mrs. +Raines's quarters. Quigley, Parsons, an' Trot, they was in the +inside verandah, so they couldn't 'ave 'eard nothing. Sergeant +Raines was in the verandah talkin' to me, an' Mackie 'e come along +acrost the square an' 'e sez, 'Well,' sez 'e, ''ave they pushed +your 'elmet off yet, Sergeant?' 'e sez. An' at that Raines 'e +catches 'is breath an' 'e sez, 'My Gawd, I can't stand this!' sez +'e, an' 'e picks up my rifle an' shoots Mackie. See?" + +"But what were you doing with your rifle in the outer verandah an +hour after parade?" + +"Cleanin' 'er," said Ortheris, with the sullen brassy stare that +always went with his choice lies. + +He might as well have said that he was dancing naked, for at no +time did his rifle need hand or rag on her twenty minutes after +parade. Still the High Court would not know his routine. + +"Are you going to stick to that - on the Book?" I asked. + +"Yes. Like a bloomin' leech." + +"All right, I don't want to know any more. Only remember that +Quigley, Parsons, and Trot couldn't have been where you say +without hearing something; and there's nearly certain to be a +barrack-sweeper who was knocking about the square at the time. +There always is." + +"Twasn't the sweeper. It was the beastie. 'E's all right." + +Then I knew that there was going to be some spirited doctoring, +and I felt sorry for the Government Advocate who would conduct the +prosecution. + +When the trial came on I pitied him more, for he was always quick +to lose his temper, and made a personal matter of each lost cause. +Raines's young barrister had for once put aside his unslaked and +Welling passion for alibis and insanity, had forsworn gymnastics +and fireworks, and worked soberly for his client. Mercifully the +hot weather was yet young, and there had been no flagrant cases of +barrack-shootings up to the time; and the jury was a good one, +even for an Indian jury, where nine men out of every twelve are +accustomed to weighing evidence. Ortheris stood firm and was not +shaken by any cross-examination. The one weak point in his tale - +the presence of his rifle in the outer verandah - went +unchallenged by civilian wisdom, though some of the witnesses +could not help smiling. The Government Advocate called for the +rope; contending throughout +that the murder had been a deliberate one. Time had passed, he +argued, for that reflection which comes so naturally to a man +whose honour is lost. There was also the Law, ever ready and +anxious to right the wrongs of the common soldier if, in deed, +wrong had been done. But he doubted much whether there had been +any sufficient wrong. Causeless suspicion over-long brooded upon +had led, by his theory, to deliberate crime. But his attempts to +minimise the motive failed. The most disconnected witness knew - +had known for weeks - the causes of offence, and the prisoner, who +naturally was the last of all to know, groaned in the +dock while he listened. The one question that the trial circled +round was whether Raines had fired under sudden and blinding +provocation given that very morning, and in the summing up it was +clear that Ortheris's evidence told. He had contrived, most +artistically, to suggest that he personally hated the Sergeant, +who had come into the verandah to give him a talking to for +insubordination. In a weak moment the Government Advocate asked +one question too many, "Beggin' your pardon, sir," Ortheris +replied, "'e was callin' me a dam' impudent little lawyer." The +Court shook. The jury brought it in a killing, but with every +provocation and extenuation known to God or man, and the Judge put +his hand to his brow before giving sentence, and the Adam's apple +in the prisoner's throat went up and down mercury-pumping before a +cyclone. + +In consideration of all considerations, from his Commanding +Officer's certificate of good conduct to the sure loss of pension, +service, and honour, the prisoner would get two years, to be +served in India, and - there need be no demonstration in Court. +The Government Advocate scowled and picked up his papers; the +guard wheeled with a clash, and the prisoner was relaxed to the +Secular Arm, and driven to the jail in a broken-down ticca-gharri. + +His guard and some ten or twelve military witnesses, being less +important, were ordered to wait till what was officially called +the cool of the evening before marching back to cantonments. They +gathered together in one of the deep red brick verandahs of a +disused lock-up and congratulated Ortheris, who bore his honours +modestly. I sent my work into the office and joined them. Ortheris +watched the Government Advocate driving off lunch. + +"That's a nasty little bald-'eaded little butcher, that is," he +said. "'E don't please me. 'E's got a colley dog wot do, though. +I'm goin' up to Murree in a week. That dawg'll bring fifteen +rupees anywheres." + +"You had better spend it in Masses," said Terence, unbuckling his +belt, for he had been on the prisoner's guard, standing helmeted +and bolt up right for three long hours. + +"Not me," said Ortheris cheerfully. "Gawd'll put it down to B +Comp'ny's barrick damages one o' these days. You look strapped, +Terence." + +"Faith, I'm not so young as I was. That guard-mountin' wears on +the sole av the fut, and this" - he sniffed contemptuously at the +brick verandah - "is as hard setting as standin'!" + +"Wait a minute. I'll get the cushions out of my cart," I said. + +"Strewth - sofies! We're going it gay," said Ortheris, as Terence +dropped himself section by section on the leather cushions, saying +prettily, "May you niver want a soft place wheriver you go, an' +power to share utt wid a frind. Another for yourself? That's good. +It lets me sit long ways. Stanley, pass me a poipe. Augrrh! An' +that's another man gone all to pieces bekaze av a woman. I must +ha' been on forty or fifty prisoners' gyards, first an' last, an' +I hate ut new ivry time." + +"Let's see. You were on Losson's, Lancey's, Dugard's, and +Stebbins's, that I can remember," I said. + +"Ay, an' before that an' before that - scores av thim," he +answered with a worn smile. "Tis betther to die than to live for +thim, though. Whin Raines comes out - he'll be changin' his kit at +the jail now - he'll think that too. He shud ha' shot himself an' +the woman by rights, an' made a clean bill av all. Now he's left +the woman - she tuk tay wid Dinah Sunday gone last - an' he's left +himself. Mackie's the lucky man." +- +"He's probably getting it hot where he is," I ventured, for I knew +something of the dead Corporal's record. + +"Be sure av that," said Terence, spitting over the edge of the +verandah. "But fwhat he'll get there is light marchin'-ordher to +fwhat he'd ha' got here if he'd lived." + +"Surely not. He'd have gone on and forgotten like the others." + +"Did ye know Mackie well, Sorr?" said Terence. + +"He was on the Pattiala guard of honour last winter, and I went +out shooting with him in an ekka for the day, and I found him +rather an amusing man." + +"Well, he'll ha' got shut av amusemints, excipt turnin' from wan +side to the other, these few years come. I knew Mackie, an' I've +seen too many to be mistuk in the muster av wan man. He might ha' +gone on an' forgot, as you say, Sorr, but was a man wid an +educashin, an' he used ut for his schames, an' the same educashin, +an' talk an' all that made him able to do fwhat he had a mind to +wid a woman, that same wud turn back again in the long run an' +tear him alive. I can't say fwhat that I mane to say bekaze I +don't know how, but Mackie was the spit an' livin' image av a man +that I saw march the same march all but; an' 'twas worse for him +that he did not come by Mackie's ind. Wait while I remimber now. +'Twas fwhin I was in the Black Tyrone, an' he was drafted us from +Portsmouth; an' fwhat was his misbegotten name? Larry - Larry +Tighe ut was; an' wan of the draft said he was a gentleman ranker, +an' Larry tuk an' three parts killed him for saying so. An' he was +a big man, an' a strong man, an' a handsome man, an' that tells +heavy in practice wid some women, but, takin' thim by an' large, +not wid all. Yet 'twas wid all that Larry dealt - all - for he 'ud +put the comether on any woman that trod the green earth av God, +an' he knew ut. Like Mackie that's roastin' now, he knew ut; an' +niver did he put the comether on any woman save an' excipt for the +black shame. 'Tis not me that shud be talkin', dear knows, dear +knows, but the most av my mis - misalli'nces was for pure devilry, +an' mighty sorry I have been whin harm came; an' time an' again +wid a girl, ay, an' a woman too, for the matter av that, whin I +have seen by the eyes av her that I was makin' more throuble than +I talked, I have hild off an' let be for the sake av the mother +that bore me. But Larry, I'm thinkin', he was suckled by a she- +devil, for he niver let wan go that came nigh to listen to him. +'Twas his business, as if it might ha' bin sinthry-go. He was a +good soldier too. Now there was the Colonel's governess - an' he a +privit too! - that was never known in barricks; an' wan av the +Major's maids, and she was promised to a man; an' some more +outside; an' fwhat ut was amongst us we'll never know till +Judgment Day! 'Twas the nature av the baste to put the comether on +the best av thim - not the prettiest by any manner av manes - but +the like av such woman as you cud lay your band on the Book an' +swear there was niver thought av foolishness in. An' for that very +reason, mark you, he was niver caught. He came close to ut wanst +or twice, but caught he niver was, an' that cost him more at the +ind than the beginnin'. He talked to me more than most, bekaze he +tould me, barrin' the accident av my educashin, I'd ha' been the +same kind av divil he was. 'An' is ut +like,' he wud say, houldin' his head high - 'is ut like that I'd +iver be thrapped? For fwhat am I when all's said an' done?' he +sez. 'A damned privit,' sez he. 'An' is ut like, think you, that +thim I know wud be connect wid a privit like me? Number tin +thousand four hundred an' sivin,' he sez, grinnin'. I knew by the +turn av his spache whin he was not takin' care to talk rough that +he was a gentleman ranker. + +I do not undherstan' ut at all,' I sez; 'but I know,' sez I, 'that +the divil looks out av your eyes, an' I'll have no share wid you. +A little fun by way av amusemint where 't will do no harm, Larry, +is right and fair, but I am mistook if 'tis any amusemint to you,' +I sez. + +"'You are much mistook,' he sez. 'An' I counsel you not to judge +your betters.' + +"'My betthers!' I sez. 'God help you, Larry. There's no betther in +this. 'Tis all bad, as you will find for yoursilf.' + +"You're not like me,' he says, tossin' his head. + +"'Praise the Saints, I am not,' I sez. 'Fwhat I have done I have +done an' been crool sorry for. Fwhin your time comes,' sez I, +'ye'll remimber fwhat I say.' + +"'An' whin that time comes,' sez he, 'I'll come to you for ghostly +consolation, Father Terence,' an' at that he wint off afther some +more divil's business - for to get expayrience, he tould me. He +was wicked - rank wicked - wicked as all Hell! I'm not construct +by nature to go in fear av any man, but, begad, I was afraid av +Larry. He'd come in to barricks wid his cap on three hairs, an' +lie on his cot and stare at the ceilin', and now an' again he'd +fetch a little laugh, the like av a splash in the bottom av a +well, an' by that I knew he was schamin' new wickedness, an' I'd +be afraid. All this was long an' long ago, but ut hild me straight +- for a while. + +"I tould you, did I not, Sorr, that I was caressed an' pershuaded +to lave the Tyrone on account av a throuble?" + +"Something to do with a belt and a man's head, wasn't it?" Terence +had never given me the exact facts. + +"It was. Faith, ivry time I go on prisoner's gyard in coort I +wondher fwhy I am not where the pris'ner is. But the man I struk +tuk it in fair fight, an' he had the good sinse not to die. +Considher now, fwhat wud ha' come to the Arrmy if he had! I was +enthreated to exchange, an' my Commandin' Orf'cer pled wid me. I +wint, not to be disobligin', an' Larry tould me he was powerful +sorry to lose me, though fwhat I'd done to make him sorry I do not +know. So to the Ould Rig'mint I came, lavin' Larry to go to the +divil his own way, an' niver expectin' to see him again except as +a shootin'-case in barricks. . . . Who's +that lavin' the compound?" Terence's quick eye had caught sight of +a white uniform skulking behind hedge. + +"The Sergeant's gone visiting," said a voice. + +"Thin I command here, an' I will have no +sneakin' away to the bazar, an' huntin' for you wid a pathrol at +midnight. Nalson, for I know ut's you, come back to the verandah." + +Nalson, detected, slunk back to his fellows. There was a grumble +that died away in a minute or two, and Terence, turning on the +other side, went on:- + +"That was the last I saw av Larry for a while. Exchange is the +same as death for not thinkin', an' by token I married Dinah, an' +that kept me from remimberin' ould times. Thin we wint up to the +Front, an' ut tore my heart in tu to lave +Dinah at the Depot in Pindi. Consequint whin was at the Front I +fought circumspectuous till I warrmed up, an thin I fought double +tides. You remimber fwhat I tould you in the gyard-gate av the +fight at Silver's Theatre." + +"Wot's that about Silver's Theayter!" said Ortheris quickly, over +his shoulder. + +"Nothin', little man. A tale that ye know. As I was sayin', afther +that fight us av the Ould Rig'mint an' the Tyrone was all mixed +together takin' shtock ay the dead, an' av coorse I wint about to +find if there was any man that remimbered me. The second man I +came acrost - an' how I'd missed him in the fight I do not know - +was Larry, an' a fine man he looked, but oulder, by token that he +had a call to be. 'Larry,' sez I, 'how is ut wid you?' + +"'Ye're callin' the wrong man,' he sez, wid his gentleman's smile; +'Larry has been dead these three years. They call him "Love-o'- +Women" now,' he sez. By that I knew the ould divil was in him yet, +but the ind av a fight is no time for the beginnin' av confession, +so we sat down an' talked av times. + +"'They tell me you're a married man,' he sez, puffing slow at his +poipe. 'Are ye happy?' + +"'I will be whin I get back to Depot,' I sez. ''Tis a +reconnaissance honeymoon now.' + +"'I'm married too,' he sez, puffin' slow an' more slow, an' +stopperin' wid his forefinger. + +"'Sind you happiness,' I sez. 'That's the best hearin' for a long +time.' + +"'Are ye av that opinion?' he sez; an' thin he began talkin' av +the campaign. The sweat av Silver's Theatre was not dhry upon him, +an' he was prayin' for more work. I was well contint to lie and +listen to the cook-pot lids. + +"Whin he got up off the ground he shtaggered a little, an' laned +over all twisted. + +"'Ye've got more than ye bargained for,' I sez. 'Take an +inventory, Larry. 'Tis like you're hurt.' + +"He turned round stiff as a ramrod an' damned the eyes av me up +an' down for an impartinent Irish-faced ape. If that had been in +barricks, I'd ha' stretched him an' no more said; but 'twas at the +Front, an' afther such a fight as Silver's Theatre I knew there +was no callin' a man to account for his timpers. He might as well +ha' kissed me. Aftherwards I was well pleased I kept my fistes +home. Then our Captain Crook - Cruik-na-bul-leen - came up. He'd +been talkin' to the little orf'cer bhoy av the Tyrone. 'We're all +cut to windystraws,' he sez, 'but the Tyrone are damned short for +noncoms. Go you over there, Mulvaney, +an' be Deputy-Sergeant, Corp'ral, Lance, an' everything else ye +can lay hands on till I bid you stop.' + +"'I wint over an' tuk hould. There was wan sergeant left standin', +an' they'd pay no heed to him. The remnint was me, an' 'twas high +time I came. Some I talked to, an' some I did not, but before +night the bhoys av the Tyrone stud to attention, begad, if I +sucked on my poipe above a whishper. Betune you an' me an' Bobs, I +was commandin' the company, an' that was what Cruik had +thransferred me for, an' the little orf'cer bhoy knew ut, and I +knew ut, but the comp'ny did not. And there, mark you, is the +vartue that no money an' no dhrill can buy - the vartue av the +ould soldier that knows his orf'cer's work an' does ut - at the +salute! + +"Thin the Tyrone, wid the Ould Rig'mint in touch, was sint +maraudin' and prowlin' acrost the hills promishcuous an' +unsatisfactory. 'Tis my privit opinion that a gin'ral does not +know half his time fwhat to do wid three-quarthers his command. So +he shquats on his hunkers an' bids thim run round an' round +forninst him while he considhers on ut. Whin by the process av +nature they get sejuced into a big fight that was none av their +seekin', he sez: 'Obsarve my shuparior janius! I meant ut to come +so.' We ran round an' about, an' all we got was shootin' into the +camp at night, an' rushin' empty sungars wid the long bradawl, an' +bein' hit from behind rocks till we was wore out - all except +Love-o'-Women. That puppy-dog business was mate an' dhrink to him. +Begad, he cud niver get enough av ut. Me well knowin' that it is +just this desultorial campaignin' that kills the best men, an' +suspicionin' that if I was cut the little orf'cer bhoy wud expind +all his men in thryin' to get out, I wud lie most powerful doggo +whin I heard a shot, an' curl my long legs behind a bowlder, an' +run like blazes whin the ground was clear. Faith, if I led the +Tyrone in rethreat wanst I led them forty times. Love-o'-Women wud +stay pottin' an' pottin' from behind a rock, and wait till the +fire was heaviest, an' thin stand up an' fire man-height clear. He +wud lie out in camp too at night snipin' at the shadows, for he +niver tuk a mouthful av slape. My commandin' orf'cer - save his +little soul! - cud not see the beauty av of my strategims, an' +whin the Ould Rig'mint crossed us, an' that was wanst a week, he'd +throt off to Cruik, wid his big blue eyes as round as saucers, an' +lay an information against me. I heard thim wanst talkin' through +the tent-wall, an' I nearly laughed. + +"'He runs - runs like a hare,' sez the little orf'cer bhoy. "Tis +demoralisin' my men.' + +"'Ye damned little fool,' sez Cruik, laughin'. 'He's larnin' you +your business. Have ye been rushed at night yet?' + +"'No,' sez the child, wishful that he had been. + +"'Have you any wounded?' sez Cruik. + +"'No,' he sez. 'There was no chanst for that. They follow Mulvaney +too quick,' he sez. + +"'Fwhat more do you want, thin?' sez Cruik. 'Terence is bloodin' +you neat an' handy,' he sez. 'He knows fwhat you do not, an' +that's that there's +a time for ivrything. He'll not lead you wrong,' he sez, 'but I'd +give a month's pay to larn fwhat he thinks av you.' + +"That kept the babe quiet, but Love-o'-Women was pokin' at me for +ivrything I did, an' specially my manoeuvres. + +"'Mr. Mulvaney,' he sez wan evenin', very contempshus, 'you're +growin' very jeldy wid your feet. Among gentlemen,' he sez, 'among +gentlemen that's called no pretty name.' + +"'Among privits 'tis different,' I sez. 'Get back to your tent. +I'm sergeant here,' I sez. + +"There was just enough in the voice av me to tell him he was +playin' wid his life betune his teeth. He wint off, an' I noticed +that this man that was contempshus set off from the halt wid a +shunt as tho' he was bein' kicked behind. That same night there +was a Paythan picnic in the hills about, an' firin' into our tents +fit to wake the livin' dead. 'Lie down all,' I sez. 'Lie down an' +kape still. They'll no more than waste ammunition.' + +"I heard a man's feet on the ground, an' thin a 'Tini joinin' in +the chorus. I'd been lyin' warm, thinkin' av Dinah an' all, but I +crup out wid the bugle for to look round in case there was a rush, +an' the 'Tini was flashin' at the fore-ind av the camp, an' the +hill near by was fair flickerin' wid long-range fire. Undher the +starlight I beheld Love-o'-Women settin' on a rock wid his belt +and helmet off. He shouted wanst or twice, an' thin I heard him +say: 'They should ha' got the range long ago. Maybe they'll fire +at the flash.' Thin he fired again, an' that dhrew a fresh volley, +and the long slugs that they chew in their teeth came floppin' +among the rocks like tree-toads av a hot night. 'That's better,' +sez Love-o'-Women. 'Oh Lord, how long, how long!' he sez, an' at +that he lit a match an' held ut above his head. + +"'Mad,' thinks I, 'mad as a coot,' an' I tuk wan stip +forward, an' the nixt I knew was the sole av my boot flappin' like +a cavalry gydon an' the +- funny-bone av my toes tinglin'. 'Twas a clane-cut shot - a +slug - that niver touched sock or +hide, but set me bare-fut on the rocks. At that I tuk Love-o'- +Women by the scruff an' threw him under +a bowlder, an' whin I sat down I heard the bullets patterin' on +that good stone. + +"'Ye may dhraw your own wicked fire,' I sez, shakin' him, 'but I'm +not goin' to be kilt too.' + +"Ye've come too soon,' he sez. 'Ye've come too soon. In another +minute they cud not ha' missed me. Mother av God,' he sez, 'fwhy +did ye not lave me be? Now 'tis all to do again,' an' he hides his +face in his hands. + +"'So that's it,' I sez, shakin' him again. 'That's th manin' av +your disobeyin' ordhers.' + +"'I dare not kill meself,' he sez, rockin' to and fro. 'My own +hand wud not let me die, and there's not a bullet this month past +wud touch me. I'm to die slow,' he sez. 'I'm to die slow. But I'm +in hell now,' he sez, shriekin' like a woman. 'I'm in hell now!' + +"'God be good to us all,' I sez, for I saw his face. 'Will ye tell +a man the throuble. If 'tis not murder, maybe we'll mend it yet.' + +"At that he laughed. 'D'you remimber fwhat I said in the Tyrone +barricks about comin' to you for ghostly consolation. I have not +forgot,' he sez. 'That came back, an' the rest av my time is on me +now, Terence. I've fought ut off for months an' months, but the +liquor will not bite any more, Terence,' he sez. 'I can't get +dhrunk.' + +"Thin I knew he spoke the truth about bein' in hell, for whin +liquor does not take hould, the sowl av a man is rotten in him. +But me bein' such as I was, fwhat could I say to him? + +"'Di'monds an' pearls,' he begins again. 'Di'monds and pearls I +have thrown away wid both hands - an' fwhat have I left? Oh, fwhat +have I left?' + +"He was shakin' an' thremblin' up against my shouldher, an' the +slugs was singin' overhead, an' I was wonderin' whether my little +bhoy wud have sinse enough to kape his men quiet through all this +firin'. + +"'So long as I did not think,' sez Love-o'-Women, 'so long I did +not see - I wud not see - but I can now, what I've lost. The time +an' the place,' he sez, 'an' the very words I said whin ut pleased +me to go off alone to hell. But thin, even thin,' he sez, +wrigglin' tremenjus, 'I wud not ha' been happy. There was too much +behind av me. How cud I ha' believed her sworn oath - me that have +bruk mine again an' again for the sport av seein' thim cry. An' +there are the others,' he sez. 'Oh, what will I do - what will I +do'?' He rocked back an' forward again, an' I think he was cryin' +like wan av the women he dealt wid. + +"The full half av fwhat he said was Brigade Ordhers to me, but +from the rest an' the remnint I suspicioned somethin' av his +throuble. 'Twas the judgmint av God had grup the heel av him, as I +tould him 'twould in the Tyrone barricks. The slugs was singin' +over our rock more an' more, an' I sez for to divart him: 'Let bad +alone,' I sez. 'They'll be thryin' to rush the camp in a minut'.' + +"I had no more than said that whin a Paythan man crep' up on his +belly wid his knife betune his teeth, not twinty yards from us. +Love-o'-Women jumped up an' fetched a yell, an' the man saw him +an' ran at him (he'd left his rifle under the rock) wid the knife. +Love-o'-Women niver turned a hair, but by the Living Power, for I +saw ut, a stone twisted under the Paythan man's feet an' he came +down full sprawl, an' his knife wint tinklin' acrost the rocks! 'I +tould you I was Cain,' sez Love-o'-Women.' 'Fwhat's the use av +killin' him? He's an honest man - by compare.' + +"I was not dishputin' about the morils av Paythans that tide, so I +dhropped Love-o'-Women's burt acrost the man's face, an' 'Hurry +into camp,' I sez, 'for this may be the first av a rush.' + +"There was no rush afther all, though we waited undher arms to +give thim a chanst. The Paythan man must ha' come alone for the +mischief, an' afther a while Love-o'-Women wint back to his tint +wid that quare lurchin' sind-off in his walk that I cud niver +undherstand. Begad, I pitied him, an' the more bekaze he made me +think for the rest av the night av the day whin I was confirmed +Corp'ril, not actin' Lef'tenant, an' my thoughts was not good. + +"Ye can undherstand that afther that night we came to talkin' a +dale together, an' bit by bit ut came out fwhat I'd suspicioned. +The whole av his carr'in's on an' divilmints had come back on him +hard as liquor comes back whin you've been on the dhrink for a +wake. All he'd said an' all he'd done, an' only he cud tell how +much that was, come back, an' there was niver a minut's peace in +his sowl. 'Twas the Horrors widout any cause to see, an' yet, an' +yet - fwhat am I talkin' av? He'd ha' taken the Horrors wid +thankfulness. Beyon' the repentince av the man, an' that was +beyon' the natur av man - awful, awful, to behould! - there was +more that was worst than any repentince. Av the scores an' scores +that he called over in his mind (an' they were dhrivin' him mad), +there was, mark you, wan woman av all, an' she was not his wife, +that cut him to the quick av his marrow. 'Twas there he said that +he'd thrown away di'monds an' pearls past count, an' thin he'd +begin again like a blind byle in an oil-mill, walkin' round an' +round, to considher (him that was beyond all touch av being happy +this side hell!) how happy he wud ha' been wid her. The more he +considhered, the more he'd consate himself that he'd lost mighty +happiness, an' thin he wud work ut all backwards, an' cry that he +niver cud ha' been happy anyways. + +"Time an' time an' again in camp, on p'rade, ay, an' in action, +I've seen that man shut his eyes an' duck his head as you wud duck +to the flicker av a bay'nit. For 'twas thin he tould me that the +thought av all he'd missed came an' stud forninst him like red-hot +irons. For what he'd done wid the others he was sorry, but he did +not care; but this wan woman that I've tould of, by the Hilts av +God she made him pay for all the others twice over! Niver did I +know that a man cud enjure such tormint widout his heart crackin' +in his ribs, an' I have been" - Terence turned the pipe-stem +slowly between his teeth -" I have been in some black cells. All I +iver suffered tho' was not to be talked of alongside av him . . . +an' what could I do? Paternosters was no more than peas for his +sorrow. + +"Evenshually we finished our prom'nade acrost the hills, and +thanks to me for the same, there was no casualties an' no glory. +The campaign was comin' to an ind, an' all the rig'mints was bein' +drawn together for to be sint back home. Love-o'-Women was mighty +sorry bekaze he had no work to do, an' all his time to think in. +I've heard that man talkin' to his belt-plate an' his side-arms +while he was soldierin' thim, all to prevint himself from +thinkin', an' ivry time he got up afther he had been settin' down +or wint on from the halt, he'd start wid that kick an' traverse +that I tould you of - his legs sprawlin' all ways to wanst. He wud +niver go see the docthor, tho' I tould him to be wise. He'd curse +me up an' down for my advice; but I knew he was no more a man to +be reckoned wid than the little bhoy was a commandin' orf'cer, so +I let his tongue run if it aised him. + +"Wan day - 'twas on the way back - I was walkin' round camp wid +him, an' he stopped an' struck ground wid his right fut three or +four times doubtful. 'Fwhat is ut?' I sez. 'Is that ground?' sez +he; an' while I was thinkin' his mind was goin', up comes the +docthor, who'd been anatomisin' a dead bullock. Love-o'-Women +starts to go on quick, an' lands me a kick on the knee while his +legs was gettin' into marchin' ordher. + +"Hould on there,' sez the docthor; an' Love-o'-Women's face, that +was lined like a gridiron, turns red as brick. + +"'Tention,' says the docthor; an' Love-o'-Women stud so. 'Now +shut your eyes,' sez the docthor. 'No, ye must not hould by your +comrade.' + +"'Tis all up,' sez Love-o'-Women, trying to smile. 'I'd fall, +docthor, an' you know ut.' + +"'Fall?' I sez. 'Fall at attention wid your eyes shut! Fwhat do +you mane?' + +"The docthor knows,' he sez. 'I've hild up as long as I can, but +begad I'm glad 'tis all done. But I will die slow,' he sez, 'I +will die very slow.' + +"I cud see by the docthor's face that he was mortial sorry for the +man, an' he ordhered him to hospital. We wint back together, an' I +was dumbstruck; Love-o'-Women was cripplin' and crumblin' at ivry +step. He walked wid a hand on my shoulder all slued sideways, an' +his right leg swingin' like a lame camel. Me not knowin' more than +the dead fwhat ailed him, 'twas just as though the docthor's word +had done ut all - as if Love-o'-Women had but been waitin' for the +ordher to let go. + +"In hospital he sez somethin' to the docthor that I could not +catch. + +"'Holy shmoke!' sez the docthor, 'an' who are you to be givin' +names to your diseases? 'Tis ag'in' all the regulations.' + +"'I'll not be a privit much longer,' sez Love-o'-Women in his +gentleman's voice, an' the docthor jumped. + +"'Thrate me as a study, Docthor Lowndes,' he sez; an' that was the +first time I'd iver heard a docthor called his name. + +"'Good-bye, Terence,' sez Love-o'-Women. "Tis a dead man I am +widout the pleasure av dyin'. You'll come an' set wid me sometimes +for the peace av my soul.' + +"Now I had been minded to ask Cruik to take me back to the Ould +Rig'mint, for the fightin' was over, an' I was wore out wid the +ways av the bhoys in the Tyrone; but I shifted my will, an' hild +on, an' wint to set wid Love-o'-Women in the hospital. As I have +said, Sorr, the man bruk all to little pieces undher my hand. How +long he had hild up an' forced himself fit to march I cannot tell, +but in hospital but two days later he was such as I hardly knew. I +shuk hands wid him, an' his grip was fair strong, but his hands +wint all ways to wanst, an' he cud not button his tunic. + +"'I'll take long an' long to die yet,' he sez, 'for the ways av +sin they're like interest in the rig'mintal savin's-bank - sure, +but a damned long time bein' paid.' + +"The docthor sez to me quiet one day, 'Has Tighe there anythin' on +his mind?' he sez. 'He's burnin' himself out.' + +"'How shud I know, Sorr?' I sez, as innocent as putty. + +"They call him Love-o'-Women in the Tyrone, do they not?' he sez. +'I was a fool to ask. Be wid him all you can. He's houldin' on to +your strength.' + +"'But (what ails him, docthor,' I sez. + +"'They call ut Locomotus attacks us,' he sez, 'bekaze,' sez he, +'ut attacks us like a locomotive, if ye know fwhat that manes. An' +ut comes,' sez he, lookin' at me, 'ut comes from bein' called +Love-o'-Women.' + +"'You're jokin', docthor,' I sez. + +"'Jokin'!' sez he. 'If iver you feel that you've got a felt sole +in your boot instead av a Government bull's-wool, come to me,' he +sez, 'an' I'll show you whether 'tis a joke.' + +"You would not belave ut, Sorr, but that an' seein' Love-o'-Women +overtuk widout warnin' put the cowld fear av attacks us on me so +strong that for a week an' more I was kickin' my toes against +stones an' stumps for the pleasure av feelin' them hurt. + +"An' Love-o'-Women lay in the cot (he might have gone down wid the +wounded before an' before, but he asked to stay wid me), aud fwhat +there was in his mind had full swing at him night an' day an' ivry +hour av the day an' the night, an' he withered like beef rations +in a hot sun, an' his eyes was like owls' eyes, an' his hands was +mut'nous. + +"They was gettin' the rig'mints away wan by wan, the campaign +bein' inded, but as ushuil they was behavin' as if niver a +rig'mint had been moved before in the mem'ry av man. Now, fwhy is +that, Sorr? There's fightin' in an' out nine months av the twelve +somewhere in the Army. There has been - for years an' years an' +years, an' I wud ha' thought they'd begin to get the hang av +providin' for throops. But no! Ivry time it's like a girls' school +meetin' a big red bull whin they're goin' to church; an' 'Mother +av God,' sez the Commissariat an' the railways an' the Barrick- +masters, 'fwhat will we do now?' The ordhers came to us av the +Tyrone an' the Ould Rig'mint an' half a dozen more to go down, and +there the ordhers stopped dumb. We wint down, by the special grace +av God - down the Khaiber anyways. There was sick wid us, an' I'm +thinkin' that some av them was jolted to death in the doolies, but +they was anxious to be kilt so if they cud get to Peshawur alive +the sooner. I walked by Love-o'-Women - there was no marchin', an' +Love-o'-Women was not in a stew to get on. 'If I'd only ha' died +up there!' sez he through the doolie-curtains, an' then he'd twist +up his eyes an' duck his head for the thoughts that came to him. + +"Dinah was in Depot at Pindi, but I wint circumspectuous, for well +I knew 'tis just at the rump-ind av all things that his luck turns +on a man. By token I ad seen a dhriver of a batthery goin' by at a +trot singin' 'Home, swate home' at the top av his shout, and +takin' no heed o his bridle-hand - I had seen that man dhrop under +the gun in the middle of a word, and come out by the limber like - +like a frog on a pave-stone. No. I wud not hurry, though, God +knows, my heart was all in Pindi. Love-o'-Women saw fwhat was in +my mind, an' 'Go on, Terence,' h sez, 'I know fwhat's waitin' for +you.' 'I will not,' I sez. "Twill kape a little yet.' + +"Ye know the turn of the pass forninst Jumrood and the nine mile +road on the flat to Peshawur? All Peshawur was along that road day +and night waitin' for frinds - men, women, childer, and bands. +Some av the throops was camped +round Jumrood, an' some went on to Peshawur to get away down to +their cantonmints. We came through in the early mornin', havin' +been awake the night through, and we dhruv sheer into the middle +av the mess. Mother av Glory, will I ever forget that comin' back? +The light was not fair lifted, and the furst we heard was 'For +'tis my delight av a shiny night,' frum a band that thought we was +the second four comp'nies av the Lincolnshire. At that we was +forced to sind them a yell to say who we was, an' thin up wint +'The wearin' av the Green.' It made me crawl all up my backbone, +not havin' taken my brequist. Thin, right smash into our rear, +came fwhat was left av the Jock Elliotts - wid four pipers an' not +half a kilt among thim, playin' for the dear life, an' swingin' +their rumps like buck rabbits, an' a native rig'mint shrieking +blue murther. Ye niver heard the like. There was men cryin' like +women that did - an' faith I do not blame thim. Fwhat bruk me down +was the Lancers' Band - shinin' an' spick like angels, wid the +ould dhrum-horse at the head an' the silver kettle-dhrums an' all +an' all, waitin' for their men that was behind us. They shtruck up +the Cavalry Canter, an', begad, those poor ghosts that had not a +sound fut in a throop they answered to ut, the men rockin' in +their saddles. We thried to cheer them as they wint by, but ut +came out like a big gruntin' cough, so there must have been many +that was feelin' like me. Oh, but I'm forgettin'! The Fly-by- +Nights was waitin' for their second battalion, an' whin ut came +out, there was the Colonel's horse led at the head - saddle-empty. +The men fair worshipped him, an' he'd died at Au Musjid on the +road down. They waited till the remnint av the battalion was up, +and thin - clane against ordhers, for who wanted that chune that +day? - they wint back to Peshawur slow-time an' tearin' the bowils +out av ivry man that heard, wid 'The Dead March.' Right across our +line they wint, an' ye know their uniforms are as black as the +Sweeps, crawlin' past like the dead, an' the other bands damnin' +them to let be. + +"Little they cared. The carpse was wid them, an' they'd ha' taken +ut so through a Coronation. Our ordhers was to go into Peshawur, +an' we wint hot-fut past the Fly-by-Nights, not singin', to lave +that chune behind us. That was how we tuk the road of the other +corps. + +"'Twas ringin' in my ears still whin I felt in the bones of me +that Dinah was comin', an' I heard a shout, an' thin I saw a horse +an' a tattoo latherin' down the road, hell to shplit, under women. +I knew - I knew! Wan was the Tyrone Colonel's wife - ould Beeker's +lady - her gray hair flyin' an' her fat round carkiss rowlin' in +the saddle, an' the other was Dinah, that shud ha' been at Pindi. +The Colonel's lady she charged at the head av our column like a +stone wall, an' she all but knocked Beeker off his horse throwin' +her arms round his neck an' blubberin', 'Me bhoy! Me bhoy!' an' +Dinah wheeled left an' came down our flank, an' I let a yell that +had suffered inside av me for months, and - Dinah came. Will I +iver forget that while I live! She'd come on pass from Pindi, an' +the Colonel's lady had lint her the tattoo. They'd been huggin' +an' cryin' in each other's arms all the long night. + +"So she walked along wid her hand in mine, askin' forty questions +to wanst, an' beggin' me on the Virgin to make oath that there was +not a bullet consaled in me, unbeknownst somewhere, an' thin I +remimbered Love-o'-Women. He was watchin' us, an' his face was +like the face av a divil that has been cooked too long. I did not +wish Dinah to see ut, for whin a woman's runnin' over wid +happiness she's like to be touched, for harm aftherwards, by the +laste little thing in life. So I dhrew the curtain, an' Love-o'- +Women lay back and groaned. + +"Whin we marched into Peshawur, Dinah wint to barracks to wait for +me, an' me feelin' so rich that tide, I wint on to take Love-o'- +Women to hospital. It was the last I cud do, an' to save him the +dust an' the smother I turned the doolie-men down a road well +clear av the rest av the throops, an we wint along, me talkin' +through the curtains. Av a sudden I heard him say: - + +"'Let me look. For the Mercy av Hiven, let me look!' I had been so +tuk up wid gettin' him out av the dust and thinkin' of Dinah that +1 had not kept my eyes about me. There was a woman ridin' a little +behind av us, an', talkin' ut over wid Dinah aftherwards, that +same woman must ha' rid not far on the Jumrood road. Dinah said +that she had been hoverin' like a kite on the left flank av the +column. + +"I halted the doolie to set the curtains, an' she rode by walkin'- +pace, an' Love-o'-Women's eyes wint afther her as if he would fair +haul her down from the saddle. + +"'Follow there,' was all he sez, but I niver heard a man spake in +that voice before or since, an' I knew by those two wan words an' +the look in his face that she was Di'monds-an'-Pearls that he'd +talked av in his disthresses. + +"We followed till she turned into the gate av a little house that +stud near the Edwardes's Gate. There was two girls in the +verandah, an' they ran in whin they saw us. Faith, at long eye- +range ut did not take me a wink to see fwhat kind av house ut was. +The throops bein' there an' all, there was three or four such, but +aftherwards the polis bade them go. At the verandah Love-o'-Women +sez, catchin' his breath, 'Stop here,' an' thin, an' thin, wid a +grunt that must ha' tore the heart up from his stomach, he swung +himself out av the doolie, an' my troth he stud up on his feet wid +the sweat pourin' down his face. If Mackie was to walk in here now +I'd be less tuk back than I was thin. Where he'd dhrawn his power +from, God knows or the divil - but 't was a dead man walkin' in +the sun wid the face av a dead man and the breath av a dead man +held up by the Power, an' the legs an' the arms of the carpse +obeyin' ordhers! +- +"The woman stud in the verandah. She'd been a beauty too, though +her eyes was sunk in her head, an' she looked Love-o'-Women up an' +down terrible. 'An',' she sez, kickin' back the tail av her habit, +- 'An',' she sez, 'fwhat are you doin' here, married man?' + +"Love-o'-Women said nothin', but a little froth came to his lips, +an' he wiped ut off wid his hand an' looked at her an' the paint +on her, an' looked, an' looked, an' looked. + +"'An' yet,' she sez, wid a laugh. (Did you hear Mrs. Raines laugh +whin Mackie died? Ye did not? Well for you.) 'An' yet,' she sez, +'who but you have betther right,' sez she. 'You taught me the +road. You showed me the way,' she sez. 'Ay, look,' she sez, 'for +'tis your work; you that tould me - d'you remimber it? - that a +woman who was false to wan man cud be false to two. I have been +that,' she sez, 'that an' more, for you always said I was a quick +learner, Ellis. Look well,' she sez, 'for it is me that you called +your wife in the sight av God long since!' An' she laughed. + +"Love-o'-Women stud still in the sun widout answerin'. Thin he +groaned an' coughed to wanst, an' I thought 'twas the death- +rattle, but he niver tuk his eyes off her face not for a wink. Ye +cud ha' put her eyelashes through the flies av an E. P. tent, they +were so long. + +"'Fwhat do you do here?' she sez, word by word, 'that have taken +away my joy in my man this five years gone - that have broken my +rest an' killed my body an' damned my soul for the sake av seem' +how 'twas done? Did your expayrience aftherwards bring you acrost +any woman that gave more than I did? Wud I not ha' died for you +an' wid you, Ellis? Ye know that, man! If ever your lyin' sowl saw +truth in uts life ye know that.' + +"An' Love-o'-Women lifted up his head and said, 'I knew,' an' that +was all. While she was spakin' the Power hild him up parade-set in +the 'sun, an the sweat dhropped undher his helmet. 'Twas more an' +more throuble for him to talk, an' his mouth was runnin' +twistways. + +"Fwhat do you do here?' she sez, an' her voice whit up. 'Twas like +bells tollin' before. 'Time was whin you were quick enough wid +your words, - you that talked me down to hell. Are ye dumb now?' +An' Love-o'-W omen got his tongue, an' sez simple, like a little +child, 'May I come in?' he sez. + +"The house is open day an' night,' she sez, wid a laugh; an' Love- +o'-Women ducked his head an' hild up his hand as tho' he was +gyardin'. The Power was on him still - it hild him up still, for, +by my sowl, as I'll never save ut, he walked up the verandah steps +that had been a livin' corpse in hospital for a month! + +"'An' now'?' she sez, lookin' at him; an' the red paint stud lone +on the white av her face like a bull's-eye on a target. + +"He lifted up his eyes, slow an' very slow, an' he looked at her +long an' very long, an' he tuk his spache betune his teeth wid a +wrench that shuk him. + +"'I'm dyin', Aigypt - dyin',' he sez; ay, those were his words, +for I remimber the name he called her. He was turnin' the death- +colour, but his eyes niver rowled. They were set - set on her. +Widout word or warnin' she opened her arms full stretch, an' +'Here!' she sez. (Oh, fwhat a golden mericle av a voice ut was!) +'Die here,' she sez; an' Love-o'-Women dhropped forward, an' she +hild him up, for she was a fine big woman. + +"I had no time to turn, bekaze that minut I heard the sowl quit +him - tore out in the death-rattle - an' she laid him back in a +long chair, an' she sez to me, 'Misther soldier,' she sez, 'will +ye not go in an' talk to wan av the girls. This sun's too much for +him.' + +"Well I knew there was no sun he'd iver see, but I cud not spake, +so I wint away wid the empty doolie to find the docthor. He'd been +breakfastin' an' lunchin' ever since we'd come in, an' he was as +full as a tick. + +"Faith ye've got dhrunk mighty soon,' he sez, whin I'd tould him, +'to see that man walk. Barrin' a puff or two av life, he was a +corpse before we left Jumrood. I've a great mind,' he sez, 'to +confine you.' + +"There's a dale av liquor runnin' about, docthor,' I sez, solemn +as a hard-boiled egg. 'Maybe 'tis so, but will ye not come an' see +the corpse at the house?' + +"Tis dishgraceful,' he sez, 'that I would be expected to go to a +place like that. Was she a pretty woman?'' he sez, an' at that he +set off double quick. + +"I cud see that the two was in the verandah were I'd left them, +an' I knew by the hang av her head an' the noise av the crows +fwhat had happened. 'Twas the first and the last time that I'd +ever known woman to use the pistol. They dread the shot as a rule, +but Di'monds-an'-Pearls she did not - she did not. + +"The docthor touched the long black hair av her head ('twas all +loose upon Love-o'-Women's chest), an' that cleared the liquor out +av him. He stud considherin' a long time, his hands in his +pockets, an' at last he sez to me, 'Here's a double death from +naturil causes, most naturil causes; an' in the presint state av +affairs the rig'mint will be thankful for wan grave the less to +dig. Issiwasti,' he sez, 'Issiwasti, Privit Mulvaney, these two +will be buried together in the Civil Cemet'ry at my expinse, an' +may the good God,' he sez, 'make it SO much for me whin my time +comes. Go to your wife,' he sez; 'go an' be happy. I'll see to +this all.' + +"I left him still considherin'. They was buried in the Civil +Cemet'ry together, wid a Church of England service. There was too +many buryin's thin to ask questions, an' the docthor - he ran away +wid Major - Major Van Dyce's lady that year - he saw to ut all. +Fwhat the right an' the wrong av Love-o'-Women an' Di'monds-an'- +Pearls was I niver knew, an' I will niver know; but I've tould ut +as I came acrost ut - here an' there in little pieces. So, being +fwhat I am, an' knowin' fwhat I know, that's fwhy I say in this +shootin'-case here, Mackie that's dead an' in hell is the lucky +man. There are times, Sorr, whin 'tis betther for the man to die +than to live, an' by consequince forty million times betther for +the woman." + +"H'up there!" said Ortheris. "It's time to go." The witnesses and +guard formed up in the thick white dust of the parched twilight +and swung off, marching easy and whistling. Down the road to the +green by the church I could hear Ortheris, the black Book-lie +still uncleansed on his lips, setting, with a fine sense of the +fitness of things, the shrill quick-step that runs - + +"Oh, do not despise the advice of the wise, +Learn wisdom from those that are older, +And don't try for things that are out of your reach - +An' that's what the Girl told the Soldier +Soldier! Soldier! +Oh, that's what the Girl told the Soldier!" + + + +THE BIG DRUNK DRAF' + +We're goin' 'ome, we're goin' 'ome - +Our ship is at the shore, +An' you mus' pack your 'aversack, +For we won't come back no more. +Ho, don't you grieve for me, +My lovely Mary Ann, +For I'll marry you yet on a fourp'ny bit, +As a time-expired ma-a-an + +Barrack Room Ballad. + + +AN awful thing has happened! My friend, Private Mulvaney, who went +home in the Serapis, time-expired, not very long ago, has come +back to India as a civilian! It was all Dinah Shadd's fault. She +could not stand the poky little lodgings, and she missed her +servant Abdullah more than words could tell. The fact was that the +Mulvaneys had been out here too long, and had lost touch of +England. + +Mulvaney knew a contractor on one of the new Central India lines, +and wrote to him for some sort of work. The contractor said that +if Mulvaney could pay the passage he would give him command of a +gang of coolies for old sake's sake. The pay was eighty-five +rupees a month, and Dinah Shadd said that if Terence did not +accept she would make his life a "basted purgathory." Therefore +the Mulvaneys came out as "civilians," which was a great and +terrible fall; though Mulvaney tried to disguise it by saying that +he was "Ker'nel on the railway line, an' a consequinshal man." + +He wrote me an invitation, on a tool-indent form, to visit him; +and I came down to the funny little "construction" bungalow at the +side of the line. Dinah Shadd had planted peas about and about, +and nature had spread all manner of green stuff round the place. +There was no change in Mulvaney except the change of clothing, +which was deplorable, but could not be helped. He was standing +upon his trolly, haranguing a gangman, and his shoulders were as +well drilled and his big, thick chin was as clean-shaven as ever. + +"I'm a civilian now," said Mulvaney. "Cud you tell that I was iver +a martial man'? Don't answer, Sorr, av you're strainin' betune a +complimint an' a lie. There's no houldin' Dinah Shadd now she's +got a house av her own. Go inside, an' dhrink tay out av chiny in +the drrrrawin'-room, an' thin we'll dhrink like Christians undher +the tree here. Scutt, ye naygur-folk! There's a Sahib come to call +on me, an' that's more than he'll iver do for you onless you run! +Get out, an' go on pilin' up the earth, quick, till sundown." + + +When we three were comfortably settled under the big sisham in +front of the bungalow, and the first rush of questions and answers +about Privates Ortheris and Learoyd and old times and places had +died away, Mulvaney said, reflectively - "Glory be, there's no +p'rade to-morrow, an' no bun-headed Corp'ril-bhoy to give you his +lip. An' yit I don't know. 'Tis harrd to be something ye niver +were an' niver meant to be, an' all the ould days shut up along +wid your papers. Eyah! I'm growin' rusty, an' 'tis the will av God +that a man mustn't serve his Quane for time an' all." + +He helped himself to a fresh peg, and sighed furiously. + +"Let your beard grow, Mulvaney," said I, "and then you won't be +troubled with those notions. You'll be a real civilian." + +Dinah Shadd had told me in the drawing-room of her desire to coax +Mulvaney into letting his beard grow. "'Twas so civilian-like," +said poor Dinah, who hated her husband's hankering for his old +life. + +"Dinah Shadd, you're a dishgrace to an honust, clane-scraped man! +"said Mulvaney, without replying to me. "Grow a beard on your own +chin, darlint, and lave my razors alone. They're all that stand +betune me and dis-ris-pect-ability. Av I didn't shave, I wud be +torminted wid an outrajis thurrst; for there's nothin' so dhryin' +to the throat as a big billy-goat beard waggin' undher the chin. +Ye wudn't have me dhrink always, Dinah Shadd'? By the same token, +you're kapin' me crool dhry now. Let me look at that whiskey." + +The whiskey was lent and returned, but Dinah Shadd, who had been +just as eager as her husband in asking after old friends, rent me +with - + +"I take shame for you, Sorr, coming down here though the Saints +know you're as welkim as the daylight whin you do come - an' +upsettin' Terence's head wid your nonsense about - about fwhat's +much betther forgotten. He bein' a civilian now, an' you niver was +aught else. Can you not let the Arrmy rest? 'Tis not good for +Terence." + +I took refuge by Mulvaney, for Dinah Shadd has a temper of her +own. + +"Let be - let be," said Mulvaney. "'Tis only wanst in a way I can +talk about the ould days." Then to me - "Ye say Dhrumshticks is +well, an' his lady tu'? I niver knew how I liked the gray garron +till I was shut av him an' Asia." - "Dhrumshticks" was the +nickname of the Colonel commanding Mulvaney's old regiment. - " +Will you be seein' him again? You will. Thin tell him" - +Mulvaney's eyes began to twinkle - "tell him wid Privit -" +- +"Mister, Terence," interrupted Dinah Shadd. "Now the Divil an' all +his angils an' the Firmament av Hiven fly away wid the 'Mister,' +an' the sin av makin' me swear be on your confession, Dinah Shadd! +Privit, I tell ye. Wid Privit Mulvaney's best obedience, that but +for me the last time-expired wud be still pullin' hair on their +way to the sea." + +He threw himself back in the chair, chuckled, and was silent. + +"Mrs. Mulvaney," I said, "please take up the whiskey, and don't +let him have it until he has told the story." + +Dinah Shadd dexterously whipped the bottle away, saying at the +same time, "'Tis nothing to be proud av," and thus captured by the +enemy, Mulvaney spake: - + +"'Twas on Chuseday week. I was behaderin' round wid the gangs on +the 'bankmint - I've taught the hoppers how to kape step an' stop +screechin' - whin a head-gangman comes up to me, wid about two +inches av shirt-tail hanging round his neck an' a disthressful +light in his oi. 'Sahib,' sez he, 'there's a reg'mint an' a half +av soldiers up at the junction, knockin' red cinders out av +ivrything an' ivrybody! They thried to hang me in my cloth,' he +sez, 'an' there will be murdher an' ruin an' rape in the place +before nightfall! They say they're comin' down here to wake us up. +What will we do wid our women-folk?' + +"'Fetch my throlly!' sez I; 'my heart's sick in my ribs for a wink +at anything wid the Quane's uniform on ut. Fetch my throlly, an' +six av the jildiest men, and run me up in shtyle.'" + +"He tuk his best coat," said Dinah Shadd, reproachfully. + +"'Twas to do honour to the Widdy. I cud ha' done no less, Dinah +Shadd. You and your digresshins interfere wid the coorse av the +narrative. Have you iver considhered fwhat I wud look like wid me +head shaved as well as me chin? You bear that in your mind, Dinah +darlin'. + +"I was throllied up six miles, all to get a shquint at that draf'. +I knew 'twas a spring draf' goin' home, for there's no rig'mint +hereabouts, more's the pity." + +"Praise the Virgin!" murmured Dinah Shadd. But Mulvaney did not +hear. + +"Whin I was about three-quarters av a mile off the rest-camp, +powtherin' along fit to burrst, I heard the noise av the men, an', +on my sowl, Sorr, I cud catch the voice av Peg Barney bellowin' +like a bison wid the belly-ache. You remimber Peg Barney that was +in D Comp'ny - a red, hairy scraun, wid a scar on his jaw? Peg +Barney that cleared out the Blue Lights' Jubilee meetin' wid the +cook-room mop last year? + +"Thin I knew ut was a draf' av the Ould Rig'mint, an' I was +conshumed wid sorrow for the bhoy that was in charge. We was harrd +scrapin's at any time. Did I iver tell you how Horker Kelley wint +into clink nakid as Phoebus Apollonius, wid the shirts av the +Corp'ril an' file undher his arrum? An' be was a moild man! But +I'm digresshin'. 'Tis a shame both to the rig'mints and the Arrmy +sendin' down little orf'cer bhoys wid a draf' av strong men mad +wid liquor an' the chanst av gettin' shut av India, an' niver a +punishment that's fit to be given right down an' away from +cantonmints to the dock! 'Tis this nonsinse. Whin I am servin' my +time, I'm undher the Articles av War, an' can be whipped on the +peg for thim. But whin I've served my time, I'm a Reserve man, an' +the Articles av War haven't any hould on me. An orf'cer can't do +anythin' to a time-expired savin' confinin' him to barricks. 'Tis +a wise rig'lation, bekaze a time-expired does not have any +barricks; bein' on the move all the time. 'Tis a Solomon av a +rig'lation, is that. I wud like to be inthroduced to the man that +made ut. 'Tis easier to get colts from a Kibbereen horse-fair into +Galway than to take a bad draf' over ten miles av counthry. +Consiquintly that rig'lation - for fear that the men wud be hurt +by the little orf'cer bhoy. No matther. The nearer my throlly came +to the rest-camp, the woilder was the shine, an' the louder was +the voice of Peg Barney. "Tis good I am here,' thinks I to mysilf, +'for Peg alone is employmint for two or three.' He bein', I well +knew, as copped as a dhrover. + +"Faith, that rest-camp was a sight! The tent-ropes was all skew- +nosed, an' the pegs looked as dhrunk as the men - fifty av thim - +the scourin's, an' rinsin's, an' Divil's lavin's av the Ould +Rig'mint. I tell you, Sorr, they were dhrunker than any men you've +ever seen in your mortial life. How does a draf' get dhrunk? How +does a frog get fat? They suk ut in through their shkins. + +"There was Peg Barney sittin' on the groun' in his shirt - wan +shoe off an' wan shoe on - whackin' a tent-peg over the head wid +his boot, an' singin' fit to wake the dead. 'Twas no clane song +that he sung, though. 'Twas the Divil's Mass." + +"What's that?" I asked. + +"Whin a bad egg is shut av the Army, he sings the Divil's Mass for +a good riddance; an' that manes swearin' at ivrything from the +Commandher-in-Chief down to the Room-Corp'ril, such as you niver +in your days heard. Some men can swear so as to make green turf +crack! Have you iver heard the Curse in an Orange Lodge? The +Divil's Mass is ten times worse, an' Peg Barney was singin' ut, +whackin' the tent-peg on the head wid his boot for each man that +he cursed. A powerful big voice had Peg Barney, an' a hard swearer +he was whin sober. I stood forninst him, an' 'twas not me oi alone +that cud tell Peg was dhrunk as a coot. +354 +"Good mornin', Peg,' I sez, whin he dhrew breath afther dursin' +the Adj'tint-Gen'ral; 'I've put on my best coat to see you, Peg +Barney,' sez I. +"Thin take Ut off again,' sez Peg Barney, latherin' away wid the +boot; 'take ut off an' dance, ye lousy civilian!' +"Wid that he begins cursin' ould Dhrumshticks, being so full he +dane disrernimbers the Brigade-Major an' the Judge-Advokit- +Gen'ral. +"Do you not know me, Peg?' sez I, though me blood was hot in me +wid being called a civilian." +"An' him a decent married man!" wailed Dinah Shadd. +I do not,' sez Peg, 'but dhrunk or sober I'll tear the hide off +your back wid a shovel whin I've stopped singin'.' +"'Say you so, Peg Barney?' sez I. "Tis clear as mud you've +forgotten me. I'll assist your autobiography.' Wid that I +stretched Peg Barney, boot an' all, an' wint into the camp. An +awful sight ut was! +"'Where's the orf'cer in charge av the detachment?' sez I to Scrub +Greene - the manest little worm that ever walked. +"'There's no orf'cer, ye ould cook,' sez Scrub; 'we're a bloomin' +Republic.' + +"'Are you that?' sez I; 'thin I'm O'Connell the Dictator, an' by +this you will larn to kape a civil tongue in your rag-box.' + +"Wid that I stretched Scrub Greene an' wint to the orf'cer's tent. +'Twas a new little bhoy - not wan I'd iver seen before. He was +sittin' in his tent, purtendin' not to 'ave ear av the racket. + +"I saluted - but for the life av me I mint to shake hands whin I +went in. 'Twas the sword hangin' on the tent-pole changed my will. + +"'Can't I help, Sorr?' sez I; ''tis a strong man's job they've +given you, an' you'll be wantin' help by sundown.' He was a bhoy +wid bowils, that child, an' a rale gintleman. + +"'Sit down,' sez he. + +"'Not before my orf'cer,' sez I; an' I tould him fwhat my service +was. + +"'I've heard av you,' sez he. 'You tuk the town av Lungtungpen +nakid.' + +"'Faith,' thinks I, 'that's Honour an' Glory'; for 'twas Lift'nint +Brazenose did that job. 'I'm wid ye, Sorr,' sez I, 'if I'm av use. +They shud niver ha' sent you down wid the draf'. Savin' your +presince, Sorr,' I sez, ''tis only Lift'nint Hackerston in the +Ould Rig'mint can manage a Home draf'.' + +"'I've niver had charge of men like this before,' sez he, playin' +wid the pens on the table; 'an' I see by the Rig'lations -' + +"'Shut your oi to the Rig'lations, Sorr,' I sez, 'till the +throoper's into blue wather. By the Rig'lations you've got to tuck +thim up for the night, or they'll be runnin' foul av my coolies +an' makin' a shiverarium half through the counthry. Can you trust +your noncoms, Sorr?' + +"'Yes,' sez he. + +"'Good,' sez I; 'there'll be throuble before the night. Are you +marchin', Sorr?' + +"'To the next station,' sez he. + +"'Betther still,' sez I; 'there'll be big throuble.' + +"'Can't be too hard on a Home draf,' sez he; 'the great thing is +to get thim in-ship.' + +"'Faith, you've larnt the half av your lesson, Sorr,' sez I, 'but +av you shtick to the Rig'lations you'll niver get thim inship at +all, at all. Or there won't be a rag av kit betune thim whin you +do.' + +"'Twas a dear little orf'cer bhoy, an' by way av kapin' his heart +up, I tould him fwhat I saw wanst in a draf in Egypt." + +"What was that, Mulvaney?" said I. + +"Sivin an' fifty men sittin' on the bank av a canal, laughin' at a +poor little squidgereen av an orf'cer that they'd made wade into +the slush an' pitch things out av the boats for their Lord High +Mightinesses. That made me orf'cer bhoy woild wid indignation. + +"'Soft an' aisy, Sorr,' sez I; 'you've niver had your draf' in +hannd since you left cantonmints Wait till the night, an' your +work will be ready to you. Wid your permission, Sorr, I will +investigate the camp, an' talk to me ould frinds. 'Tis no manner +av use thryin' to shtop the divilmint now.' + +"Wid that I wint out into the camp an' inthrojuced mysilf to ivry +man sober enough to remimber me. I was some wan in the ould days, +an' the bhoys was glad to see me - all excipt Peg Barney wid a eye +like a tomata five days in the bazar, an' a nose to match. They +come round me an' shuk me, an' I tould thim I was in privit employ +wid an income av me own, an' a drrrawin'-room fit to bate the +Quane's; an' wid me lies an' me shtories an' nonsinse gin'rally, I +kept 'em quiet in wan way an' another, knockin' roun' the camp. +'Twas bad even thin whin I was the Angil av Peace. + +"I talked to me ould non-coms - they was sober - an' betune me an' +thim we wore the draf' over into their tents at the proper time. +The little orf'cer bhoy he conies round, dacint an' civil-spoken +as might be. + +"'Rough quarthers, men,' sez he, 'but you can't look to be as +comfortable as in barricks. We must make the best av things. I've +shut my eyes to a dale av dog's thricks to-day, an' now there must +be no more av ut.' + +"No more we will. Come an' have a dhrink, me son,' sez Peg Barney, +staggerin' where he stud. Me little orf'cer bhoy kep' his timper. + +"'You're a sulky swine, you are,' sez Peg Barney, an' at that the +men in the tent began to laugh. + +"I tould you me orf'cer bhoy had bowils. He cut Peg Barney as near +as might be on the oi that I'd squshed whin we first met. Peg wint +spinnin' acrost the tent. + +"Peg him out, Sorr,' sez I, in a whishper. + +"Peg him out!' sez me orf'cer bhoy, up loud, just as if 'twas +battalion p'rade an' he pickin' his wurrds from the Sargint. + +"The non-coms tuk Peg Barney - a howlin' handful he was - an' in +three minut's he was pegged out - chin down, tight-dhrawn - on his +stummick, a tent-peg to each arm an' leg, swearin' fit to turn a +naygur white. + +"I tuk a peg an'' jammed ut into his ugly jaw - 'Bite on that, Peg +Barney,' I sez; 'the night is settin' frosty, an' you'll be +wantin' divarsion before the mornin'. But for the Rig'lations +you'd be bitin' on a bullet now at the thriangles, Peg Barney,' +sez I. + +"All the draf' was out av their tents watchin' Barney bein' +pegged. + +"''Tis agin the Rig'lations! He strook him!' screeches out Scrub +Greene, who was always a lawyer; an' some of the men tuk up the +shoutin'. + +"'Peg out that man!' sez me orf'cer bhoy, niver losin' his timper; +an' the non-coms wint in and pegged out Scrub Greene by the side +av Peg Barney. + +"I cud see that the draf' was comin' roun'. The men stud not +knowin' fwhat to do. + +"'Get to your tents!' sez me orf'cer bhoy. 'Sargint, put a sinthry +over these two men.' + +"The men wint back into the tents like jackals, an' the rest av +the night there was no noise at all excipt the stip av the sinthry +over the two, an' Scrub Greene blubberin' like a child. 'Twas a +chilly night, an' faith, ut sobered Peg Barney. + +"Just before Revelly, me orf'cer bhoy comes out an' sez: 'Loose +those men an' send thim to their tents!' Scrub Greene wint away +widout a word, but Peg Barney, stiff wid the cowld, stud like a +sheep, thryin' to make his orf'cer undherstand he was sorry for +playin' the goat. + +"There was no tucker in the draf' whin ut fell in for the march, +an' divil a wurrd about 'illegality' cud I hear. + +"I wint to the ould Colour-Sargint and I sez: - 'Let me die in +glory,' sez I. 'I've seen a man this day!' + +"'A man he is,' sez ould Hother; 'the draf's as sick as a herrin'. +They'll all go down to the sea like lambs. That bhoy has the +bowils av a cantonmint av Gin'rals.' + +"'Amin,' sez I, 'an' good luck go wid him, wheriver he be, by +land or by sea. Let me know how the draf' gets clear.' + +"An' do you know how they did? That bhoy, so I was tould by letter +from Bombay, bully-damned 'em down to the dock, till they cudn't +call their sowls their own. From the time they left me oi till +they was 'tween decks, not wan av thim was more than dacintly +dhrunk. An' by the Holy Articles av War, whin they wint aboord +they cheered him till they cudn't spake, an' that, mark you, has +not come about wid a draf' in the mlm'ry av livin' man! You look +to that little orf'cer bhoy. He has bowils. 'Tis not ivry child +that wud chuck the Rig'lations to Flanders an' stretch Peg Barney +on a wink from a brokin an' dilapidated ould carkiss like mysilf. +I'd be proud to serve -" + +"Terence, you're a civilian," said Dinah Shadd warningly. + +"So I am - so I am. Is ut likely I wud forget ut? But he was a +gran' bhoy all the same, an' I'm only a mudtipper wid a hod on me +shoulthers. The whiskey's in the heel av your hand, Sorr. Wid your +good lave we'll dhrink to the Ould Rig'mint - three fingers - +standin' up!" +And we drank. + + +THE MUTINEY OF THE MAVERICKS + +Sec. 7 (1) - Causing or Conspiring with other persons to cause a +mutiny or sedition in forces belonging to Her Majesty's Regular +forces, Reserve forces, Auxiliary forces, or Navy. + +When three obscure gentlemen in San Francisco argued on +insufficient premises they condemned a fellow-creature to a most +unpleasant death in a far country which had nothing whatever to do +with the United States. They foregathered at the top of a +tenement-house in Tehama Street, an unsavoury quarter of the city, +and, there calling for certain drinks, they conspired because they +were conspirators by trade, officially known as the Third Three of +the I. A. A. - an institution for the propagation of pure light, +not to be confounded with any others, though it is affiliated to +many. The Second Three live in Montreal, and work among the poor +there; the First Three have their home in New York, not far from +Castle Garden, and write regularly once a week to a small house +near one of the big hotels at Boulogne. What happens after that, a +particular section of Scotland Yard knows too well and laughs at. +A conspirator detests ridicule. More men have been stabbed with +Lucrezia Borgia daggers and dropped into the Thames for laughing +at Head Centres and Triangles than for betraying secrets; for this +is human nature. + +The Third Three conspired over whiskey cocktails and a clean sheet +of note-paper against the British Empire and all that lay therein. +This work is very like what men without discernment call politics +before a general election. You pick out and discuss, in the +company of congenial friends, all the weak points in your +opponents' organisation, and unconsciously dwell upon and +exaggerate all their mishaps, till it seems to you a miracle that +the hated party holds together for an hour. + +"Our principle is not so much active demonstration - that we leave +to others - as passive embarrassment, to weaken and unnerve," said +the first man. "Wherever an organisation is crippled, wherever +confusion is thrown into any branch of any department, we gain a +step for those who take on the work; we are but the forerunners." +He was a German enthusiast, and editor of a newspaper, from whose +leading articles he quoted frequently. + +"That cursed Empire makes so many blunders of her own that unless +we doubled the year's average I guess it wouldn't strike her +anything special had occurred," said the second man. "Are you +prepared to say that all our resources are equal to blowing off +the muzzle of a hundred-ton gun or spiking a ten-thousand-ton ship +on a plain rock in clear daylight? They can beat us at our own +game. Better join hands with the practical branches; we're in +funds now. Try a direct scare in a crowded street. They value +their greasy hides." He was the drag upon the wheel, and an +Americanised Irishman of the second generation, despising his own +race and hating the other. He had learned caution. + +The third man drank his cocktail and spoke no word. He was the +strategist, but unfortunately his knowledge of life was limited. +He picked a letter from his breast-pocket and threw it across the +table. That epistle to the heathen contained some very concise +directions from the First Three in New York. +It said - + +"The boom in black iron has already affected the +eastern markets, where our agents have been forcing down the +English-held stock among the smaller buyers who watch the turn of +shares. Any immediate operations, such as western bears, would +increase their willingness to unload. This, however, cannot be +expected till they see clearly that foreign iron-masters are +willing to co-operate. Mulcahy should be dispatched to feel the +pulse of the market, and act accordingly. Mavericks are at present +the best for our purpose.- P. D. Q." + +As a message referring to an iron crisis in Pennsylvania, it was +interesting, if not lucid. As a new departure in organized attack +on an outlying English dependency, it was more than interesting. + +The second man read it through and murmured -" + +Already? Surely they are in too great a hurry. All that Dhulip +Singh could do in India he has done, down to the distribution of +his photographs among the peasantry. Ho! Ho! The Paris firm +arranged that, and he has no substantial money backing from the +Other Power. Even our agents in India know he hasn't. What is the +use of our organisation wasting men on work that is already done? +Of course the Irish regiments in India are half mutinous as they +stand." + +This shows how near a lie may come to the truth. An Irish +regiment, for just so long as it stands still, is generally a hard +handful to control, being reckless and rough. When, however, it is +moved in the direction of musketry-firing, it becomes strangely +and unpatriotically content with its lot. It has even been heard +to cheer the Queen with enthusiasm on these occasions. + +But the notion of tampering with the army was, from the point of +view of Tehama Street, an altogether sound one. There is no shadow +of stability in the policy of an English Government, and the most +sacred oaths of England would, even if engrossed on vellum, find +very few buyers among colonies and dependencies that have suffered +from vain beliefs. But there remains to England always her army. +That cannot change except in the matter of uniform and equipment. +The officers may write to the papers demanding the heads of the +Horse Guards in default of cleaner redress for grievances; the men +may break loose across a country town and seriously startle the +publicans; but neither officers nor men have it in their +composition to mutiny after the continental manner. The English +people, when they trouble to think about the army at all, are, and +with justice, absolutely assured that it is absolutely +trustworthy. Imagine for a moment their emotions on realising that +such and such a regiment was in open revolt from causes directly +due to England's management of Ireland. They would probably send +the regiment to the polls forthwith and examine their own +consciences as to their duty to Erin; but they would never be easy +any more. And it was this vague, unhappy mistrust that the I. A. +A. were labouring to produce. + +"Sheer waste of breath," said the second man after a pause in the +council. "I don't see the use of tampering with their fool-army, +but it has been tried before and we must try it again. It looks +well in the reports. If we send one man from here you may bet your +life that other men are going too. Order up Mulcahy." + +They ordered him up - a slim, slight, dark-haired young man, +devoured with that blind rancorous hatred of England that only +reaches its full growth across the Atlantic. He had sucked it from +his mother's breast in the little cabin at the back of the +northern avenues of New York; he had been taught his rights and +his wrongs, in German and Irish, on the canal fronts of Chicago; +and San Francisco held men who told him strange and awful things +of the great blind power over the seas. Once, when business took +him across the Atlantic, he had served in an English regiment, and +being insubordinate had suffered extremely. He drew all his ideas +of England that +were not bred by the cheaper patriotic prints from one iron-fisted +colonel and an unbending adjutant. +He would go to the mines if need be to teach his gospel. And he +went, as his instructions advised, p. d. q. - which means "with +speed" - to introduce embarrassment into an Irish regiment, +"already half-mutinous, quartered among Sikh peasantry, all +wearing miniatures of His Highness Dhulip Singh, Maharaja of the +Punjab, next their hearts, and all eagerly expecting his arrival." +Other information equally valuable was given him by his masters. +He was to be cautious, but never to grudge expense in winning the +hearts of the men in the regiment. His mother in New York would +supply funds, and he was to write to her once a month. Life is +pleasant for a man who has a mother in New York to send him two +hundred pounds a year over and above his regimental pay. + +In process of time, thanks to his intimate knowledge of drill and +musketry exercise, the excellent Mulcahy, wearing the corporal's +stripe, went out in a troopship and joined Her Majesty's Royal +Loyal Musketeers, commonly known as the "Mavericks," because they +were masterless and unbranded cattle - sons of small farmers in +County Clare, shoeless vagabonds of Kerry, herders of Ballyvegan, +much wanted "moonlighters" from the bare rainy headlands of the +south coast, officered by O'Mores, Bradys, Hills, Kilreas, and the +like. Never to outward seeming was there more promising material +to work on. The First Three had chosen their regiment well. It +feared nothing that moved or talked save the colonel and the +regimental Roman Catholic chaplain, the fat Father Dennis, who +held the keys of heaven and hell, and blared like an angry bull +when he desired to be convincing. Him also it loved because on +occasions of stress he was used to tuck up his cassock and charge +with the rest into the merriest of the fray, where he always +found, good man, that the saints sent him a revolver when there +was a fallen private to be protected, or - but this came as an +afterthought +his own gray head to be guarded. + +Cautiously as he had been instructed, tenderly and with much beer, +Mulcahy opened his projects to such as he deemed fittest to +listen. And these were, one and all, of that quaint, crooked, +sweet, profoundly irresponsible and profoundly lovable race that +fight like fiends, argue like children, reason like women, obey +like men, and jest like their own goblins of the rath through +rebellion, loyalty, want, woe, or war. The underground work of a +conspiracy is always dull and very much the same the world over. +At the end of six months - the seed always falling on good ground +- Mulcahy spoke almost explicitly, hinting darkly in the approved +fashion at dread powers behind him, and advising nothing more nor +less than mutiny. Were they not dogs, evilly treated? had they not +all their own and their national revenges to satisfy? Who in these +days would do aught to nine hundred men in rebellion? Who, again, +could stay them if they broke for the sea, licking up on their way +other regiments only too anxious to join? And afterwards . . . +here followed windy promises of gold and preferment, office and +honour, ever dear to a certain type of Irishman. + +As he finished his speech, in the dusk of a twilight, to his +chosen associates, there was a sound of a rapidly unslung belt +behind him. The arm of one Dan Grady flew out in the gloom and +arrested something. Then said Dan - + +"Mulcahy, you're a great man, an' you do credit to whoever sent +you. Walk about a bit while we think of it." Mulcahy departed +elate. He knew his words would sink deep. + +"Why the triple-dashed asterisks did ye not let me belt him'?" +grunted a voice. + +"Because I'm not a fat-headed fool. Boys, 'tis what he's been +driving at these six months - our superior corp'ril with his +education and his copies of the Irish papers and his everlasting +beer. He's been sent for the purpose, and that's where the money +comes from. Can ye not see? That man's a gold-mine, which Horse +Egan here would have destroyed with a belt-buckle. It would be +throwing away the gifts of Providence not to fall in with his +little plans. Of coorse we'll mut'ny till all's dry. Shoot the +colonel on the parade-ground, massacree the company officers, +ransack the arsenal, and then - Boys, did he tell you what next? +He told me the other night when he was beginning to talk wild. +Then we're to join with the niggers, and look for help from Dhulip +Singh and the Russians!" + +"And spoil the best campaign that ever was this side of Hell! +Danny, I'd have lost the beer to ha' given him the belting he +requires." + +"Oh, let him go this awhile, man! He's got no - no +constructiveness, but that's the egg-meat of his plan, and you +must understand that I'm in with it, an' so are you. We'll want +oceans of beer to convince us - firmaments full. We'll give him +talk for his money, and one by one all the boys'll come in and +he'll have a nest of nine hundred mutineers to squat in an' give +drink to." + +"What makes me killing-mad is his wanting us to do what the +niggers did thirty years gone. That an' his pig's cheek in saying +that other regiments would come along," said a Kerry man. + +"That's not so bad as hintin' we should loose off on the colonel." + +"Colonel be sugared! I'd as soon as not put a shot through his +helmet to see him jump and clutch his old horse's head. But +Mulcahy talks o' shootin' our comp'ny orf'cers accidental." + +"He said that, did he?" said Horse Egan. + +"Somethin' like that, anyways. Can't ye fancy ould Barber Brady +wid a bullet in his lungs, coughin' like a sick monkey, an' +sayin', 'Bhoys, I do not mind your gettin' dhrunk, but you must +hould your liquor like men. The man that shot me is dhrunk. I'll +suspend investigations for six hours, while I get this bullet cut +out, and then -'" + +"'An' then," continued Horse Egan, for the peppery Major's +peculiarities of speech and manner were as well known as his +tanned face; "'an' then, ye dissolute, half-baked, putty-faced +scum o' Connemara, if I find a man so much as lookin' confused, +begad, I'll coort-martial the whole company. A man that can't get +over his liquor in six hours is not fit to belong to the +Mavericks!'" + +A shout of laughter bore witness to the truth of the sketch. + +"It's pretty to think of," said the Kerry man slowly. "Mulcahy +would have us do all the devilmint, and get clear himself, +someways. He wudn't be takin' all this fool's throuble in +shpoilin' the reputation of the regimint -" + +"Reputation of your grandmother's pig!" said Dan. + +"Well, an' he had a good reputation tu; so it's all right. Mulcahy +must see his way to clear out behind him, or he'd not ha' come so +far, talkin' powers of darkness." + +"Did you hear anything of a regimental coortmartial among the +Black Boneens, these days? Half a company of 'em took one of the +new draft an' hanged him by his arms with a tent-rope from a +third-story verandah. They gave no reason for so doin', but he was +half dead. I'm thinking that the Boneens are short-sighted. It was +a friend of Mulcahy's, or a man in the same trade. They'd a deal +better ha' taken his beer," returned Dan reflectively. + +"Better still ha' handed him up to the Colonel," said Horse Egan, +"onless - but sure the news wud be all over the counthry an' give +the reg'ment a bad name." + +"An' there'd be no reward for that man - he but went about +talkin'," said the Kerry man artlessly. + +"You speak by your breed," said Dan, with a laugh. "There was +never a Kerry man yet that wudn't sell his brother for a pipe o' +tobacco an' a pat on the back from a p'liceman." + +"Praise God I'm not a bloomin' Orangeman," was the answer. + +"No, nor never will be," said Dan. "They breed men in Ulster. +Would you like to thry the taste of one?" + +The Kerry man looked and longed, but forbore. The odds of battle +were too great. +"Then you'll not even give Mulcahy a - a strike for his money," +said the voice of Horse Egan, who regarded what he called +"trouble" of any kind as the pinnacle of felicity. + +Dan answered not at all, but crept on tip-toe, with long strides, +to the mess-room, the men following. The room was empty. In a +corner, cased like the King of Dahomey's state umbrella, stood the +regimental Colours. Dan lifted them tenderly and unrolled in the +light of the candles the record of the Mavericks - tattered, worn, +and hacked. The white satin was darkened everywhere with big brown +stains, the gold threads on the crowned harp were frayed and +discoloured, and the Red Bull, the totem of the Mavericks, was +coffee-hued. The stiff, embroidered folds, whose price is human +life, rustled down slowly. The Mavericks keep their colours long +and guard them very sacredly. + +"Vittoria, Salamanca, Toulouse, Waterloo, Moodkee, Ferozshah, an' +Sobraon - that was fought close next door here, against the very +beggars he wants us to join. Inkerman, The Alma, Sebastopol! 'What +are those little businesses compared to the campaigns of General +Mulcahy? The Mut'ny, think o' that; the Mut'ny an' some dirty +little matters in Afghanistan; an' for that an' these an' those" - +Dan pointed to the names of glorious battles - "that Yankee man +with the partin' in his hair comes an' says as easy as 'have a +drink' . . . Holy Moses, there's the captain!" + +But it was the mess-sergeant who came in just as the men clattered +out, and found the colours uncased. + +From that day dated the mutiny of the Mavericks, to the joy of +Mulcahy and the pride of his mother in New York - the good lady +who sent the money for the beer. Never, so far as words went, was +such a mutiny. The conspirators, led by Dan Grady and Horse Egan, +poured in daily. They were sound men, men to be trusted, and they +all wanted blood; but first they must have beer. They cursed the +Queen, they mourned over Ireland, they suggested hideous plunder +of the Indian country-side, and then, alas - some of the younger +men would go forth and wallow on the ground in spasms of wicked +laughter The genius of the Irish for conspiracies is remarkable. +None the less they would swear no oaths but those of their own +making, which were rare and curious, and they were always at pains +to impress Mulcahy with the risks they ran. Naturally the flood of +beer wrought demoralisation. But Mulcahy confused the causes of +things, and when a very muzzy Maverick smote a sergeant on the +nose or called his commanding officer a bald-headed old lard- +bladder and even worse names, he fancied that rebellion and not +liquor was at the bottom of the outbreak. Other gentlemen who have +concerned themselves in larger conspiracies have made the same +error. + +The hot season, in which they protested no man could rebel, came +to an end, and Mulcahy suggested a visible return for his +teachings. As to the actual upshot of the mutiny he cared nothing. +It would be enough if the English, infatuatedly trusting to the +integrity of their army, should be startled with news of an Irish +regiment revolting from political considerations. His persistent +demands would have ended, at Dan's instigation, in a regimental +belting which in all probability would have killed him and cut off +the supply of beer, had not he been sent on special duty some +fifty miles away from the Cantonment to cool his heels in a mud +fort and dismount obsolete artillery. Then the colonel of the +Mavericks, reading his newspaper diligently, and scenting Frontier +trouble from afar, posted to the army headquarters and pled with +the Commander-in-chief for certain privileges, to be granted under +certain contingencies,; which contingencies came about only a week +later, when the annual little war on the border developed itself +and the colonel returned to carry the good news to the Mavericks. +He held the promise of the Chief for active service, and the men +must get ready. + +On the evening of the same day, Mulcahy, an unconsidered corporal +- yet great in conspiracy - returned to cantonments, and heard +sounds of strife and howlings from afar off. The mutiny had broken +out and the barracks of the Mavericks were one white-washed +pandemonium. A private tearing through the barrack-square, gasped +in his ear, "Service! Active service. It's a burnin' shame." Oh +joy, the Mavericks had risen on the eve of battle! They would not +- noble and loyal sons of Ireland - serve the Queen longer. The +news would flash through the country-side and over to England, and +he - Mulcahy - the trusted of the Third Three, had brought about +the crash. The private stood in the middle of the square and +cursed colonel, regiment, officers, and doctor, particularly the +doctor, by his gods. An orderly of the native cavalry regiment +clattered through the mob of soldiers. He was half lifted, half +dragged from his horse, beaten on the back with mighty hand-claps +till his eyes watered, and called all manner of endearing names. +Yes, the Mavericks had fraternized with the native troops. Who +then was the agent among the latter that had blindly wrought with +Mulcahy so well? + +An officer slunk, almost ran, from the mess to a barrack. He was +mobbed by the infuriated soldiery, who closed round but did not +kill him, for he fought his way to shelter, flying for the life. +Mulcahy could have wept with pure joy and thankfulness. The very +prisoners in the guard-room were shaking the bars of their cells +and howling like wild beasts, and from every barrack poured the +booming as of a big war-drum. + +Mulcahy hastened to his own barrack. He could hardly hear himself +speak. Eighty men were pounding with fist and heel the tables and +trestles - eighty men, flushed with mutiny, stripped to their +shirt sleeves, their knapsacks half-packed for the march to the +sea, made the two-inch boards thunder again as they chanted, to a +tune that Mulcahy knew well, the Sacred War Song of the Mavericks- + +Listen in the north, my boys, there's trouble on the wind; +Tramp o' Cossack hooves in front, gray great-coats behind, +Trouble on the Frontier of a most amazin' kind, +Trouble on the waters o' the Oxus! + +Then, as the table broke under the furious accompaniment - +Hurrah! hurrah! it's north by west we go; +Hurrah! hurrah! the chance we wanted so; +Let 'em hear the chorus from Umballa to Moscow, +As we go marchin' to the Kremling. + +"Mother of all the saints in bliss and all the devils in cinders, +where's my fine new sock widout the heel?" howled Horse Egan, +ransacking everybody's valise but his own. He was engaged in +making up deficiencies of kit preparatory to a campaign, and in +that work he steals best who steals last. "Ah, Mulcahy, you're in +good time," he shouted, "We've got the route, and we're off on +Thursday for a pic-nic wid the Lancers next door." + +An ambulance orderly appeared with a huge basket full of lint +rolls, provided by the forethought of the Queen for such as might +need them later on. Horse Egan unrolled his bandage, and flicked +it under Mulcahy's nose, chanting - + +"Sheepskin an' bees' wax, thunder, pitch, and plaster, +The more you try to pull it off, the more it sticks the faster. +As I was goin' to New Orleans - + +"You know the rest of it, my Irish American-Jew boy. By gad, ye +have to fight for the Queen in the inside av a fortnight, my +darlin'" + +A roar of laughter interrupted. Mulcahy looked vacantly down the +room. Bid a boy defy his father when the pantomime-cab is at the +door, or a girl develop a will of her own when her mother is +putting the last touches to the first ball-dress, but do not ask +an Irish regiment to embark upon mutiny on the eve of a campaign, +when it has fraternised with the native regiment that accompanies +it, and driven its officers into retirement with ten thousand +clamorous questions, and the +prisoners dance for joy, and the sick men stand in the open +calling down all known diseases on the head of the doctor, who has +certified that they are +"medically unfit for active service." At even the Mavericks might +have been mistaken for mutineers by one so unversed in their +natures as Mulcahy. At dawn a girls' school might have learned +deportment from them. They knew that their +colonel's hand had closed, and that he who broke that iron +discipline would not go to the front: nothing in the world will +persuade one of our soldiers, when he is ordered to the north on +the smallest of affairs, that he is not immediately going +gloriously to slay Cossacks and cook his kettles in the palace of +the Czar. A few of the younger men mourned for Mulcahy's beer, +because the campaign was to be conducted on strict temperance +principles, but as Dan and Horse Egan said sternly, "We've got the +beer-man with us. He shall drink now on his own hook." + +Mulcahy had not taken into account the possibility of being sent +on active service. He had made up his mind that he would not go +under any circumstances, but fortune was against him. + +"Sick-you?" said the doctor, who had served an unholy +apprenticeship to his trade in Tralee poorhouses. "You're only +home-sick, and what you call varicose veins come from over-eating. +A little gentle exercise will cure that." And later, "Mulcahy, my +man, everybody is allowed to apply for a sick-certificate once. If +he tries it twice we call him by an ugly name. Go back to your +duty, and let's hear no more of your diseases." + +I am ashamed to say that Horse Egan enjoyed the study of Mulcahy's +soul in those days, and Dan took an equal interest. Together they +would communicate to their corporal all the dark lore of death +which is the portion of those who have +seen men die. Egan had the larger experience, but Dan the finer +imagination. Mulcahy shivered when the former spoke of the knife +as an intimate acquaintance, or the latter dwelt with loving +particularity on the fate of those who, wounded and helpless, had +been overlooked by the ambulances, and had fallen into the hands +of the Afghan women-folk. + +Mulcahy knew that the mutiny, for the present at least, was dead; +knew, too, that a change had come over Dan's usually respectful +attitude towards him, and Horse Egan's laughter and frequent +allusions to abortive conspiracies emphasised all that the +conspirator had guessed. The horrible fascination of the death- +stories, however, made him seek the men's society. He learned much +more than he had bargained for; and in this manner. It was on the +last night before the regiment entrained to the front. The +barracks were stripped of everything movable, and the men were too +excited to sleep. The bare walls gave out a heavy hospital smell +of chloride of lime. + +"And what," said Mulcahy in an awe-stricken whisper, after some +conversation on the eternal subject, "are you going to do to me, +Dan?" This might have been the language of an able conspirator +conciliating a weak spirit. + +"You'll see," said Dan grimly, turning over in his cot, "or I +rather shud say you'll not see." + +This was hardly the language of a weak spirit. Mulcahy shook under +the bed-clothes. + +"Bc easy with him," put in Egan from the next cot. "He has got his +chanst o' goin' clean. Listen, Mulcahy, all we want is for the +good sake of the regiment that you take your death standing up, as +a man shud. There's be heaps an' heaps of enemy - plenshus heaps. +Go there an' do all you can and die decent. You'll die with a good +name there. 'Tis not a hard thing considerin'." +- +Again Mulcahy shivered. + +"An' how could a man wish to die better than fightin'?" added Dan +consolingly. + +"And if I won't?" said the corporal in a dry whisper. + +"There'll be a dale of smoke," returned Dan, sitting up and +ticking off the situation on his fingers, "sure to be, an' the +noise of the firin'll be tremenjus, an' we'll be running about up +and down, the regiment will. But we, Horse and I - we'll stay by +you, Mulcahy, and never let you go. Maybe there'll be an +accident." + +"It's playing it low on me. Let me go. For pity's sake, let me go. +I never did you harm, and - and I stood you as much beer as I +could. Oh, don't be hard on me, Dan! You are - you were in it too. +You won't kill me up there, will you?" + +"I'm not thinkin' of the treason; though you shud be glad any +honest boys drank with you. It's for the regiment. We can't have +the shame o' you bringin' shame on us. You went to the doctor +quiet as a sick cat to get and stay behind an' live with the women +at the depot - you that wanted us to run to the sea in wolf-packs +like the rebels none of your black blood dared to be! But we knew +about your goin' to the doctor, for he told in mess, and it's all +over the regiment. Bein', as we are, your best friends, we didn't +allow any one to molest you yet. We will see to you ourselves. +Fight which you will - us or the enemy you'll never lie in that +cot again, and there's more glory and maybe less kicks from +fightin' the enemy. That's fair speakin'." +- +"And he told us by word of mouth to go and join with the niggers - +you've forgotten that, Dan," said Horse Egan, to justify sentence. + +"What's the use of plaguin'' the man? One shot pays for all. Sleep +ye sound, Mulcahy. But you onderstand, do ye not?" + +Mulcahy for some weeks understood very little of anything at all +save that ever at his elbow, in camp or at parade, stood two big +men with soft voices adjuring him to commit hari-kari lest a worse +thing should happen - to die for the honour of the regiment in +decency among the nearest knives. But Mulcahy dreaded death. He +remembered certain things that priests had said in his infancy, +and his mother - not the one at New York - starting from her sleep +with shrieks to pray for a husband's soul in torment. It is well +to be of a cultured intelligence, but in time of trouble the weak +human mind returns to the creed it sucked in at the breast, and if +that creed be not a pretty one trouble follows. Also, the death he +would have to face would be physically painful. Most conspirators +have large imaginations. Mulcahy could see himself, as he lay on +the earth in the night, dying by various causes. They were all +horrible; the mother in New York was very far away, and the +Regiment, the engine that, once you fall in its grip, moves you +forward whether you will or won't, was daily coming closer to the +enemy! + +They were brought to the field of MarzunKatai, and with the Black +Boneens to aid, they fought a fight that has never been set down +in the newspapers. In response, many believe, to the fervent +prayers of Father Dennis, the enemy not only elected to fight in +the open, but made a beautiful fight, as many weeping Irish +mothers knew later. They gathered behind walls or flickered across +the open in shouting masses, and were pot-valiant in artillery. It +was expedient to hold a large reserve and wait for the +psychological moment that was being prepared by the shrieking +shrapnel. Therefore the Mavericks lay down in open order on the +brow of a hill to watch the play till their call should come. +Father Dennis, whose duty was in the rear, to smooth the trouble +of the wounded, had naturally managed to make his way to the +foremost of his boys, and lay like a black porpoise, at length on +the grass. To him crawled Mulcahy, ashen-gray, demanding +absolution. + +"'Wait till you're shot," said Father Dennis sweetly. "There's a +time for everything." + +Dan Grady chuckled as he blew for the fiftieth time into the +breech of his speckless rifle. Mulcahy groaned and buried his head +in his arms till a stray shot spoke like a snipe immediately above +his head, and a general heave and tremour rippled the line. Other +shots followed and a few took effect, as a shriek or a grunt +attested. The officers, who had been lying down with the men, rose +and began to walk steadily up and down the front of their +companies. + +This manoeuvre, executed, not for publication, but as a guarantee +of good faith, to soothe men, demands nerve. You must not hurry, +you must not look nervous, though you know that you are a mark for +every rifle within extreme range, and above all if you are smitten +you must make as little noise as possible and roll inwards through +the files. It is at this hour, when the breeze brings the first +salt whiff of the powder to noses rather cold at the tip, and the +eye can quietly take in the appearance of each red casualty, that +the strain on the nerves is strongest. Scotch regiments can endure +for half a day and abate no whit of their zeal at the end; English +regiments sometimes sulk under punishment, while the Irish, like +the French, are apt to run forward by ones and twos, which is just +as bad as running back. The truly wise commandant of highly-strung +troops allows them, in seasons of waiting, to hear the sound of +their own voices uplifted in song. There is a legend of an English +regiment that lay by its arms under fire chaunting "Sam Hall," to +the horror of its newly appointed and pious colonel. The Black +Boneens, who were suffering more than the Mavericks, on a hill +half a mile away, began presently to explain to all who cared to +listen - + +We'll sound the jubilee, from the centre to the sea, +And Ireland shall be free, says the Shan-van Vogh. + +"Sing, boys," said Father Dennis softly. "It looks as if we cared +for their Afghan peas." + +Dan Grady raised himself to his knees and opened his mouth in a +song imparted to him, as to most of his comrades, in the strictest +confidence by Mulcahy - that Mulcahy then lying limp and fainting +on the grass, the chill fear of death upon him. + +Company after company caught up the words which, the I. A. A. say, +are to herald the general rising of Erin, and to breathe which, +except to those duly appointed to hear, is death. Wherefore they +are printed in this place. + +The Saxon in Heaven's just balance is weighed, +His doom like Belshazzar's in death has been cast, +And the hand of the venger shall never be stayed +Till his race, faith, and speech are a dream of the past. + +They were heart-filling lines and they ran with a swirl; the I. A. +A. are better served by their pens than their petards. Dan clapped +Mulcahy merrily on the back, asking him to sing up. The officers +lay down again. There was no need to walk any more. Their men were +soothing themselves thunderously, thus - + +St. Mary in Heaven has written the vow +That the land shall not rest till the heretic blood, +From the babe at the breast to the hand at the plough, +Has rolled to the ocean like Shannon in flood! + +"I'll speak to you after all's over," said Father Dennis +authoritatively in Dan's ear. "What's the use of confessing to me +when you do this foolishness? Dan, you've been playing with fire! +I'll lay you more penance in a week than -" + +"Come along to Purgatory with us, Father dear. The Boneens are on +the move; they'll let us go now!" + +The regiment rose to the blast of the bugle as one man; but one +man there was who rose more swiftly than all the others, for half +an inch of bayonet was in the fleshy part of his leg. + +"You've got to do it," said Dan grimly. "Do it decent, anyhow;" +and the roar of the rush drowned his words, for the rear companies +thrust forward the first, still singing as they swung down the +slope - + +From the child at the breast to the hand at the plough +Shall roll to the ocean like Shannon in flood! + +They should have sung it in the face of England, not of the +Afghans, whom it impressed as much as did the wild Irish yell. + +"They came down singing," said the unofficial report of the enemy, +borne from village to village the next day. "They continued to +sing, and it was written that our men could not abide when they +came. It is believed that there was magic in the aforesaid song." + +Dan and Horse Egan kept themselves in the neighbourhood of +Mulcahy. Twice the man would have bolted back in the confusion. +Twice he was heaved, kicked, and shouldered back again into the +unpaintable inferno of a hotly contested charge. + +At the end, the panic excess of his fear drove him into madness +beyond all human courage. His eyes staring at nothing, his mouth +open and frothing, and breathing as one in a cold bath, he went +forward demented, while Dan toiled after him. The charge checked +at a high mud wall. It was Mulcahy who scrambled up tooth and nail +and hurled down among the bayonets the amazed Afghan who barred +his way. It was Mulcahy, keeping to the straight line of the rabid +dog, who led a collection of ardent souls at a newly unmasked +battery and flung himself on the muzzle of a gun as his companions +danced among the gunners. It was Mulcahy who ran wildly on from +that battery into the open plain, where the enemy were retiring in +sullen groups. His hands were empty, he had lost helmet and belt, +and he was bleeding from a wound in the neck. Dan and Horse Egan, +panting and distressed, had thrown themselves down on the ground +by the captured guns, when they noticed Mulcahy's charge. + +"Mad," said Horse Egan critically. "Mad with fear! He's going +straight to his death, an' shouting's no use." + +"Let him go. Watch now! If we fire we'll hit him maybe." + +The last of a hurrying crowd of Afghans turned at the noise of +shod feet behind him, and shifted his knife ready to hand. This, +he saw, was no time to take prisoners. Mulcahy tore on, sobbing; +the straight-held blade went home through the defenceless breast, +and the body pitched forward almost before a shot from Dan's rifle +brought down the slayer and still further hurried the Afghan +retreat. The two Irishmen went out to bring in their dead. + +"He was given the point, and that was an easy death," said Horse +Egan, viewing the corpse. "But would you ha' shot him, Danny, if +he had lived?" + +"He didn't live, so there's no sayin'. But I doubt I wud have +bekaze of the fun he gave us - let alone the beer. Hike up his +legs, Horse, and we'll bring him in. Perhaps 'tis better this +way." + +They bore the poor limp body to the mass of the regiment, lolling +open-mouthed on their rifles; and there was a general snigger when +one of the younger subalterns said, "That was a good man!" + +"Phew," said Horse Egan, when a burial-party had taken over the +burden. "I'm powerful dhry, and this reminds me there'll be no +more beer at all." + +"Fwhy not?" said Dan, with a twinkle in his eye as he stretched +himself for rest. "Are we not conspirin' all we can, an' while we +conspire are we not entitled to free dhrinks? Sure his ould mother +in New York would not let her son's comrades perish of drouth - if +she can be reached at the end of a letter." + +"You're a janius," said Horse Egan. "0' coorse she will not. I +wish this crool war was over, an' we'd get back to canteen. Faith, +the Commander-in-chief ought to be hanged in his own little sword- +belt for makin' us work on wather." + +The Mavericks were generally of Horse Egan's opinion. So they made +haste to get their work done as soon as possible, and their +industry was rewarded by unexpected peace. " We can fight the sons +of Adam," said the tribesmen, "but we cannot fight the sons of +Eblis, and this regiment never stays still in one place. Let us +therefore come in." They came in, and "this regiment" withdrew to +conspire under the leadership of Dan Grady. + +Excellent as a subordinate, Dan failed altogether as a chief-in- +command - possibly because he was too much swayed by the advice of +the only man in the regiment who could manufacture more than one +kind of handwriting. The same mail that bore to Mulcahy's mother +in New York a letter from the colonel telling her how valiantly +her son had fought for the Queen, and how assuredly he would have +been recommended for the Victoria Cross had he survived, carried a +communication signed, I grieve to say, by that same colonel and +all the officers of the regiment, explaining their willingness to +do "anything which is contrary to the regulations and all kinds of +revolutions" if only a little money could be forwarded to cover +incidental expenses. Daniel Grady, Esquire, would receive funds, +vice Mulcahy, who "was unwell at this present time of writing." + +Both letters were forwarded from New York to Tehama Street, San +Francisco, with marginal comments as brief as they were bitter. +The Third Three read and looked at each other. Then the Second +Conspirator - he who believed in "joining hands with the practical +branches" - began to laugh, and on recovering his gravity said, +"Gentlemen, I consider this will be a lesson to us. We're left +again. Those cursed Irish have let us down. I knew they would, +but" - here he laughed afresh - "I'd give considerable to know +what was at the back of it all." + +His curiosity would have been satisfied had he seen Dan Grady, +discredited regimental conspirator, trying to explain to his +thirsty comrades in India the non-arrival of funds from New York. + + +THE MAN WHO WAS + +The Earth gave up her dead that tide, +Into our camp he came, +And said his say, and went his way, +And left our hearts aflame. + +Keep tally - on the gun-butt score +The vengeance we must take, +When God shall bring full reckoning, +For our dead comrade's sake. + +Ballad. + +Let it be clearly understood that the Russian is a delightful +person till he tucks in his shirt. As an Oriental he is charming. +It is only when he insists upon being treated as the most easterly +of western peoples instead of the most westerly of easterns that +he becomes a racial anomaly extremely difficult to handle. The +host never knows which side of his nature is going to turn up +next. + +Dirkovitch was a Russian - a Russian of the Russians - who +appeared to get his bread by serving the Czar as an officer in a +Cossack regiment, and corresponding for a Russian newspaper with a +name that was never twice alike. He was a handsome young Oriental, +fond of wandering through unexplored portions of the earth, and he +arrived in India from nowhere in particular. At least no living +man could ascertain whether it was by way of Balkh, Badakshan, +Chitral, Beluchistan, or Nepaul, or anywhere else. The Indian +Government, being in an unusually affable mood, gave orders that +he was to be civilly treated and shown everything that was to be +seen. So he drifted, talking bad English and worse French, from +one city to another, till he foregathered with Her Majesty's White +Hussars in the city of Peshawur, which stands at the mouth of that +narrow swordcut in the hills that men call the Khyber Pass. He was +undoubtedly an officer, and he was decorated after the manner of +the Russians with little enamelled crosses, and he could talk, and +(though this has nothing to do with his merits) he had been given +up as a hopeless task, or cask, by the Black Tyrone, who +individually and collectively, with hot whiskey and honey, mulled +brandy, and mixed spirits of every kind, had striven in all +hospitality to make him drunk. And when the Black Tyrone, who are +exclusively Irish, fail to disturb the peace of head of a +foreigner - that foreigner is certain to be a superior man. + +The White Hussars were as conscientious in choosing their wine as +in charging the enemy. All that they possessed, including some +wondrous brandy, was placed at the absolute disposition of +Dirkovitch, and he enjoyed himself hugely - even more than among +the Black Tyrones. + +But he remained distressingly European through it all. The White +Hussars were "My dear true friends," "Fellow-soldiers glorious," +and "Brothers inseparable." He would unburden himself by the hour +on the glorious future that awaited the combined arms of England +and Russia when their hearts and their territories should run side +by side, and the great mission of civilising Asia should begin. +That was unsatisfactory, because Asia is not going to be civilised +after the methods of the West. There is too much Asia and she is +too old. You cannot reform a lady of many lovers, and Asia has +been insatiable in her flirtations aforetime. She will never +attend Sunday-school or learn to vote save with swords for +tickets. + +Dirkovitch knew this as well as any one else, but it suited him to +talk special-correspondently and to make himself as genial as he +could. Now and then he volunteered a little, a very little, +information about his own sotnia of Cossacks, left apparently to +look after themselves somewhere at the back of beyond. He had done +rough work in Central Asia, and had seen rather more help-yourself +fighting than most men of his years. But he was careful never to +betray his superiority, and more than careful to praise on all +occasions the appearance, drill, uniform, and organisation of Her +Majesty's White Hussars. And indeed they were a regiment to be +admired. When Lady Durgan, widow of the late Sir John Durgan, +arrived in their station, and after a short time had been proposed +to by every single man at mess, she put the public sentiment very +neatly when she explained that they were all so nice that unless +she could marry them all, including the colonel and some majors +already married, she was not going to content herself with one +hussar. Wherefore she wedded a little man in a rifle regiment, +being by nature contradictious; and the White Hussars were going +to wear crape on their arms, but compromised by attending the +wedding in full force, and lining the aisle with unutterable +reproach. She had jilted them all - from Basset-Holmer the senior +captain to little Mildred the junior subaltern, who could have +given her four thousand a year and a title. + +The only persons who did not share the general regard for the +White Hussars were a few thousand gentlemen of Jewish extraction +who lived across the border, and answered to the name of Pathan. +They had once met the regiment officially and for something less +than twenty minutes, but the interview, which was complicated with +many casualties, had filled them with prejudice. They even called +the White Hussars children of the devil and sons of persons whom +it would be perfectly impossible to meet in decent society. Yet +they were not above making their aversion fill their money-belts. +The regiment possessed carbines - beautiful Martini-Henry carbines +that would lob a bullet into an enemy's camp at one thousand +yards, and were even handier than the long rifle. Therefore they +were coveted all along the border, and since demand inevitably +breeds supply, they were supplied at the risk of life and limb for +exactly their weight in coined silver - seven and one half pounds' +weight of rupees, or sixteen pounds sterling reckoning the rupee +at par. They were stolen at night by snaky-haired thieves who +crawled on their stomachs under the nose of the sentries; they +disappeared mysteriously from locked arm-racks, and in the hot +weather, when all the barrack doors and windows were open, they +vanished like puffs of their own smoke. The border people desired +them for family vendettas and contingencies. But in the long cold +nights of the northern Indian winter they were stolen most +extensively. The traffic of murder was liveliest among the hills +at that season, and prices ruled high. The regimental guards were +first doubled and then trebled. A trooper does not much care if he +loses a weapon - Government must make it good - but he deeply +resents the loss of his sleep. The regiment grew very angry, and +one rifle-thief bears the visible marks of their anger upon him to +this hour. That incident stopped the burglaries for a time, and +the guards were reduced accordingly, and the regiment devoted +itself to polo with unexpected results; for it beat by two goals +to one that very terrible polo corps the Lushkar Light Horse, +though the latter had four ponies apiece for a short hour's fight, +as well as a native officer who played like a lambent flame across +the ground. + +They gave a dinner to celebrate the event. The Lushkar team came, +and Dirkovitch came, in the fullest full uniform of a Cossack +officer, which is as full as a dressing-gown, and was introduced +to the Lushkars, and opened his eyes as he regarded. They were +lighter men than the Hussars, and they carried themselves with the +swing that is the peculiar right of the Punjab Frontier Force and +all Irregular Horse. Like everything else in the Service it has to +be learnt, but, unlike many things, it is never forgotten, and +remains on the body till death. + +The great beam-roofed mess-room of the White Hussars was a sight +to be remembered. All the mess plate was out on the long table - +the same table that had served up the bodies of five officers +after a forgotten fight long and long ago - the dingy, battered +standards faced the door of entrance, clumps of winter-roses lay +between the silver candlesticks, and the portraits of eminent +officers deceased looked down on their successors from between the +heads of sambhur, nilghai, markhor, and, pride of all the mess, +two grinning snow-leopards that had cost Basset-Holmer four +months' leave that he might have spent in England, instead of on +the road to Thibet and the daily risk of his life by ledge, snow- +slide, and grassy slope. + +The servants in spotless white muslin and the crest of their +regiments on the brow of their turbans waited behind their +masters, who were clad in the scarlet and gold of the White +Hussars, and the cream and silver of the Lushkar Light Horse. +Dirkovitch's dull green uniform was the only dark spot at the +board, but his big onyx eyes made up for it. He was fraternising +effusively with the captain of the Lushkar team, who was wondering +how many of Dirkovitch's Cossacks his own dark wiry down- +countrymen could account for in a fair charge. But one does not +speak of these things openly. + +The talk rose higher and higher, and the regimental band played +between the courses, as is the immemorial custom, till all tongues +ceased for a moment with the removal of the dinner-slips and the +first toast of obligation, when an officer rising said, "Mr. Vice, +the Queen," and little Mildred from the bottom of the table +answered, "The Queen, God bless her," and the big spurs clanked as +the big men heaved themselves up and drank the Queen upon whose +pay they were falsely supposed to settle their mess-bills. That +Sacrament of the Mess never grows old, and never ceases to bring a +lump into the throat of the listener wherever he be by sea or by +land. Dirkovitch rose with his "brothers glorious," but he could +not understand. No one but an officer can tell what the toast +means; and the bulk have more sentiment than comprehension. +Immediately after the little silence that follows on the ceremony +there entered the native officer who had played for the Lushkar +team. He could not, of course, eat with the mess, but he came in +at dessert, all six feet of him, with the blue and silver turban +atop, and the big black boots below. The mess rose joyously as he +thrust forward the hilt of his sabre in token of fealty for the +colonel of the White Hussars to touch, and dropped into a vacant +chair amid shouts of: "Rung ho, Hira Singh!" (which being +translated means "Go in and win "). "Did I whack you over the +knee, old man?" "Ressaidar Sahib, what the devil made you play +that kicking pig of a pony in the last ten minutes?" "Shabash, +Ressaidar Sahib!" Then the voice of the colonel, "The health of +Ressaidar Hira Singh!" + +After the shouting had died away Hira Singh rose to reply, for he +was the cadet of a royal house, the son of a king's son, and knew +what was due on these occasions. Thus he spoke in the vernacular: +- "Colonel Sahib and officers of this regiment. Much honour have +you done me. This will I remember. We came down from afar to play +you. But we were beaten." (" No fault of yours, Ressaidar Sahib. +Played on our own ground, y' know. Your ponies were cramped from +the railway. Don't apologise!") "Therefore perhaps we will come +again if it be so ordained." (" Hear! Hear! Hear, indeed! Bravo! +Hsh!") "Then we will play you afresh" ("Happy to meet you.") "till +there are left no feet upon our ponies. Thus far for sport." He +dropped one hand on his sword-hilt and his eye wandered to +Dirkovitch lolling back in his chair. "But if by the will of God +there arises any other game which is not the polo game, then be +assured, Colonel Sahib and officers, that we will play it out side +by side, though they," again his eye sought Dirkovitch, "though +they, I say, have fifty ponies to our one horse." And with a deep- +mouthed Rung ho! that sounded like a musket-butt on flagstones he +sat down amid leaping glasses. + +Dirkovitch, who had devoted himself steadily to the brandy - the +terrible brandy aforementioned - did not understand, nor did the +expurgated translations offered to him at all convey the point. +Decidedly Hira Singh's was the speech of the evening, and the +clamour might have continued to the dawn had it not been broken by +the noise of a shot without that sent every man feeling at his +defenseless left side. Then there was a scuffle and a yell of +pain. + +"Carbine-stealing again!" said the adjutant, calmly sinking back +in his chair. "This comes of reducing the guards. I hope the +sentries have killed him." + +The feet of armed men pounded on the verandah flags, and it was as +though something was being dragged. + +"Why don't they put him in the cells till the morning?" said the +colonel testily. "See if they've damaged him, sergeant." + +The mess sergeant fled out into the darkness and returned with two +troopers and a corporal, all very much perplexed. + +"Caught a man stealin' carbines, sir," said the corporal. +"Leastways 'e was crawlin' towards the barricks, sir, past the +main road sentries, an' the sentry 'e sez, sir -" + +The limp heap of rags upheld by the three men groaned. Never was +seen so destitute and demoralised an Afghan. He was turbanless, +shoeless, caked with dirt, and all but dead with rough handling. +Hira Singh started slightly at the sound of the man's pain. +Dirkovitch took another glass of brandy. + +"What does the sentry say?" said the colonel. + +"Sez 'e speaks English, sir," said the corporal. + +"So you brought him into mess instead of handing him over to the +sergeant! If he spoke all the Tongues of the Pentecost you've no +business -" + +Again the bundle groaned and muttered. Little Mildred had risen +from his place to inspect. He jumped back as though he had been +shot. + +"Perhaps it would be better, sir, to send the men away," said he +to the colonel, for he was a much privileged subaltern. He put his +arms round the rag-bound horror as he spoke, and dropped him into +a chair. It may not have been explained that the littleness of +Mildred lay in his being six feet four and big in proportion. The +corporal seeing that an officer was disposed to look after the +capture, and that the colonel's eye was beginning to blaze, +promptly removed himself and his men. The mess was left alone with +the carbine-thief, who laid his head on the table and wept +bitterly, hopelessly, and inconsolably as little children weep. + +Hira Singh leapt to his feet. "Colonel Sahib," +said he, "that man is no Afghan, for they weep Ai! Ai! Nor is he +of Hindustan, for they weep Oh! Ho! He weeps after the fashion of +the white men, who say Ow! Ow!" + +"Now where the dickens did you get that knowledge, Hira Singh?" +said the captain of the Lushkar team. + +"Hear him!" said Hira Singh simply, pointing at the crumpled +figure that wept as though it would never cease. + +"He said, 'My God!" said little Mildred. "I heard him say it." + +The colonel and the mess-room looked at the man in silence. It is +a horrible thing to hear a man cry. A woman can sob from the top - +of her palate, or her lips, or anywhere else, but a man must cry +from his diaphragm, and it rends him to pieces. + +"Poor devil!" said the colonel, coughing tremendously. "We ought +to send him to hospital. He's been man-handled." + +Now the adjutant loved his carbines. They were to him as his +grandchildren, the men standing in the first place. He grunted +rebelliously: "I can understand an Afghan stealing, because he's +built that way. But I can't understand his crying. That makes it +worse." + +The brandy must have affected Dirkovitch, for he lay back in his +chair and stared at the ceiling. There was nothing special in the +ceiling beyond a shadow as of a huge black coffin. Owing to some +peculiarity in the construction of the mess-room, this shadow was +always thrown when the candles were lighted. It never disturbed +the digestion of the White Hussars. They were in fact rather proud +of it. + +"Is he going to cry all night?" said the colonel, "or are we +supposed to sit up with little Mildred's guest until he feels +better?" + +The man in the chair threw up his head and stared at the mess. +"Oh, my God!" he said, and every soul in the mess rose to his +feet. Then the Lushkar captain did a deed for which he ought to +have been given the Victoria Cross - distinguished gallantry in a +fight against overwhelming curiosity. He picked up his team with +his eyes as the hostess picks up the ladies at the opportune +moment, and pausing only by the colonel's chair to say, "This +isn't our affair, you know, sir," led them into the verandah and +the gardens. Hira Singh was the last to go, and he looked at +Dirkovitch. But Dirkovitch had departed into a brandy-paradise of +his own. His lips moved without sound and he was studying the +coffin on the ceiling. + +"White - white all over," said Basset-Holmer, the adjutant. "What +a pernicious renegade he must be! I wonder where he came from?" + +The colonel shook the man gently by the arm, and "Who are you?" +said he. + +There was no answer. The man stared round the mess-room and smiled +in the colonel's face. Little Mildred, who was always more of a +woman than a man till "Boot and saddle" was sounded, repeated the +question in a voice that would have drawn confidences from a +geyser. The man only smiled. Dirkovitch at the far end of the +table slid gently from his chair to the floor. No son of Adam in +this present imperfect world can mix the Hussars' champagne with +the Hussars' brandy by five and eight glasses of each without +remembering the pit whence he was digged and descending thither. +The band began to play the tune with which the White Hussars from +the date of their formation have concluded all their functions. +They would sooner be disbanded than abandon that tune; it is a +part of their system. The man straightened himself in his chair +and drummed on the table with his fingers. + +"I don't see why we should entertain lunatics," said the colonel. +"Call a guard and send him off to the cells. We'll look into the +business in the morning. Give him a glass of wine first, though." + +Little Mildred filled a sherry-glass with the brandy and thrust it +over to the man. He drank, and the tune rose louder, and he +straightened himself yet more. Then he put out his long-taloned +hands to a piece of plate opposite and fingered it lovingly. There +was a mystery connected with that piece of plate, in the shape of +a spring which converted what was a seven-branched candlestick, +three springs on each side and one in the middle, into a sort of +wheel-spoke candelabrum. He found the spring, pressed it, and +laughed weakly. He rose from his chair and inspected a picture on +the wall, then moved on to another picture, the mess watching him +without a word. When he came to the mantelpiece he shook his head +and seemed distressed. A piece of plate representing a mounted +hussar in full uniform caught his eye. He pointed to it, and then +to the mantelpiece with inquiry in his eyes. + +"What is it - Oh, what is it?" said little Mildred. Then as a +mother might speak to a child, "That is a horse. Yes, a horse." + +Very slowly came the answer in a thick, passionless guttural-" +Yes, I - have seen. But - where is the horse?" + +You could have heard the hearts of the mess beating as the men +drew back to give the stranger full room in his wanderings. There +was no question of calling the guard. + +Again he spoke - very slowly, "Where is our horse?" + +There is but one horse in the White Hussars, and his portrait +hangs outside the door of the mess-room. He is the piebald drum- +horse, the king of the regimental band, that served the regiment +for seven-and-thirty years, and in the end was shot for old age. +Half the mess tore the thing down from its place and thrust it +into the man's hands. He placed it above the mantelpiece, it +clattered on the ledge as his poor hands dropped it, and he +staggered towards the bottom of the table, falling into Mildred's +chair. Then all the men spoke to one another something after this +fashion, "The drum-horse hasn't hung over the mantelpiece since +'67." "How does he know?" "Mildred, go and speak to him again." +"Colonel, what are you going to do?" "Oh, dry up, and give the +poor devil a chance to pull himself together." "It isn't possible +anyhow. The man's a lunatic." + +Little Mildred stood at the colonel's side, talking in his ear. +"Will you be good enough to take your seats please, gentlemen!" he +said, and the mess dropped into the chairs. Only Dirkovitch's +seat, next to little Mildred's, was blank, and little Mildred +himself had found Hira Singh's place. The wide-eyed mess-sergeant +filled the glasses in dead silence. Once more the colonel rose, +but his hand shook, and the port spilled on the table as he looked +straight at the man in little Mildred's chair and said hoarsely, +"Mr. Vice, the Queen." There was a little pause, but the man +sprung to his feet and answered without hesitation, "The Queen, +God bless her!" and as he emptied the thin glass he snapped the +shank between his fingers. + +Long and long ago, when the Empress of India was a young woman, +and there were no unclean ideals in the land, it was the custom of +a few messes to drink the Queen's toast in broken glass, to the +vast delight of the mess-contractors. The custom is now dead, +because there is nothing to break anything for, except now and +again the word of a Government, and that has been broken already. + +"That settles it," said the colonel, with a gasp. "He's not a +sergeant. What in the world is he?" + +The entire mess echoed the word, and the volley of questions would +have scared any man. It was no wonder that the ragged, filthy +invader could only smile and shake his head. + +From under the table, calm and smiling, rose Dirkovitch, who had +been roused from healthful slumber by feet upon his body. By the +side of the man he rose, and the man shrieked and grovelled. It +was a horrible sight, coming so swiftly upon the pride and glory +of the toast that had brought the strayed wits together. + +Dirkovitch made no offer to raise him, but little Mildred heaved +him up in an instant. It is not good that a gentleman who can +answer to the Queen's toast should lie at the feet of a subaltern +of Cossacks. + +The hasty action tore the wretch's upper clothing nearly to the +waist, and his body was seamed with dry black scars. There is only +one weapon in the world that cuts in parallel lines, and it is +neither the cane nor the cat. Dirkovitch saw the marks, and the +pupils of his eyes dilated. Also his face changed. He said +something that sounded like Shto ve takete, and the man fawning +answered, Chetyre. + +"What's that?" said everybody together. + +"His number. That is number four, you know." Dirkovitch spoke very +thickly. + +"What has a Queen's officer to do with a qualified number?" said +the Colonel, and an unpleasant growl ran round the table. + +"How can I tell?" said the affable Oriental with a sweet smile. +"He is a - how you have it? - escape - run-a-way, from over +there." He nodded towards the darkness of the night. + +"Speak to him if he'll answer you, and speak to him gently," said +little Mildred, settling the man in a chair. It seemed most +improper to all present that Dirkovitch should sip brandy as he +talked in purring, spitting Russian to the creature who answered +so feebly and with such evident dread. But since Dirkovitch +appeared to understand, no one said a word. All breathed heavily, +leaning forward, in the long gaps of the conversation. The next +time that they have no engagements on hand the White Hussars +intend to go to St. Petersburg in a body to learn Russian. + +"He does not know how many years ago," said Dirkovitch, facing the +mess, "but he says it was very long ago in a war. I think that +there was an accident. He says he was of this glorious and +distinguished regiment in the war." + +"The rolls! The rolls! Holmer, get the rolls!" said little +Mildred, and the adjutant dashed off bare-headed to the orderly- +room, where the muster-rolls of the regiment were kept. He +returned just in time to hear Dirkovitch conclude, "Therefore, my +dear friends, I am most sorry to say there was an accident which +would have been reparable if he had apologised to that our +colonel, which he had insulted." + +Then followed another growl which the colonel tried to beat down. +The mess was in no mood just then to weigh insults to Russian +colonels. + +"He does not remember, but I think that there was an accident, and +so he was not exchanged among the prisoners, but he was sent to +another place - how do you say? - the country. So, he says, he +came here. He does not know how he came. Eh? He was at Chepany," - +the man caught the word, nodded, and shivered, - "at Zhigansk and +Irkutsk. I cannot understand how he escaped. He says, too, that he +was in the forests for many years, but how many years he has +forgotten - that with many things. It was an accident; done +because he did not apologise to that our colonel. Ah!" + +Instead of echoing Dirkovitch's sigh of regret, it is sad to +record that the White Hussars livelily exhibited un-Christian +delight and other emotions, hardly restrained by their sense of +hospitality. Holmer flung the frayed and yellow regimental rolls +on the table, and the men flung themselves at these. + +"Steady! Fifty-six - fifty-five - fifty-four," said Holmer. "Here +we are. 'Lieutenant Austin Limmason. Missing.' That was before +Sebastopol. What an infernal shame! Insulted one of their +colonels, and was quietly shipped off. Thirty years of his life +wiped out." + +"But he never apologised. Said he'd see him damned first," +chorused the mess. + +"Poor chap! I suppose he never had the chance afterwards. How did +he come here?" said the colonel. + +The dingy heap in the chair could give no answer. + +"Do you know who you are?" + +It laughed weakly. + +"Do you know that you are Limmason -Lieutenant Limmason of the +White Hussars?" + +Swiftly as a shot came the answer, in a slightly surprised tone, +"Yes, I'm -Limmason, of course." The light died out in his eyes, +and the man collapsed, watching every motion of Dirkovitch with +terror. A flight from Siberia may fix a few elementary facts in +the mind, but it does not seem to lead to continuity of thought. +The man could not explain how, like a homing pigeon, he had found +his way to his own old mess again. Of what he had suffered or seen +he knew nothing. He cringed before Dirkovitch as instinctively as +he had pressed the spring of the candlestick, sought the picture +of the drum-horse, and answered to the toast of the Queen. The +rest was a blank that the dreaded Russian tongue could only in +part remove. His head bowed on his breast, and he giggled and +cowered alternately. + +The devil that lived in the brandy prompted Dirkovitch at this +extremely inopportune moment to make a speech. He rose, swaying +slightly, gripped the table-edge, while his eyes glowed like +opals, and began: + +"Fellow-soldiers glorious - true friends and hospitables. It was +an accident, and deplorable - most deplorable." Here he smiled +sweetly all round the mess. "But you will think of this little, +little thing. So little, is it not? The Czar! Posh! I slap my +fingers - I snap my fingers at him. Do I believe in him? No! But +in us Slav who has done nothing, him I believe. Seventy - how much +- millions peoples that have done nothing - not one thing. Posh! +Napoleon was an episode." He banged a hand on the table. "Hear +you, old peoples, we have done nothing in the world - out here. +All our work is to do; and it shall be done, old peoples. Get a- +way!" He waved his hand imperiously, and pointed to the man. "You +see him. He is not good to see. He was just one little - oh, so +little -accident, that no one remembered. Now he is + +That! So will you be, brother soldiers so brave so will you be. +But you will never come back. You will all go where he is gone, +or" - he pointed to the great coffin-shadow on the ceiling, and +muttering, "Seventy millions - get a-way, you old peoples," fell +asleep. + +"Sweet, and to the point," said little Mildred. "What's the use of +getting wroth? Let's make this poor devil comfortable." + +But that was a matter suddenly and swiftly taken from the loving +hands of the White Hussars. The lieutenant had returned only to go +away again three days later, when the wail of the Dead March, and +the tramp of the squadrons, told the wondering Station, who saw no +gap in the mess-table, that an officer of the regiment had +resigned his new-found commission. + +And Dirkovitch, bland, supple, and always genial, went away too by +a night train. Little Mildred and another man saw him off, for he +was the guest of the mess, and even had he smitten the colonel +with the open hand, the law of that mess allowed no relaxation of +hospitality. + +"Good-bye, Dirkovitch, and a pleasant journey," said little +Mildred. + +"Au revoir," said the Russian. + +"Indeed! But we thought you were going home?" + +"Yes, but I will come again. My dear friends, is that road shut?" +He pointed to where the North Star burned over the Khyber Pass. + +"By Jove! I forgot. Of course. Happy to meet you, old man, any +time you like. Got everything you want? Cheroots, ice, bedding? +That's all right. Well, au revoir, Dirkovitch." + +"Um," said the other man, as the tail-lights of the train grew +small. "Of - all - the - unmitigated!" + +Little Mildred answered nothing, but watched the North Star and +hummed a selection from recent Simla burlesque that had much +delighted the White Hussars. It ran - + +I'm sorry for Mister Bluebeard, +I'm sorry to cause him pain; +But a terrible spree there's sure to be +When he comes back again. + + + +ONLY A SUBALTERN + +Not only to enforce by command but to encourage by example the +energetic discharge of duty and the steady endurance of the +difficulties and privations inseparable from Military Service. - +Bengal Army Regulations. + +They made Bobby Wick pass an examination at Sandhurst. He was a +gentleman before he was gazetted, so, when the Empress announced +that "Gentleman-Cadet Robert Hanna Wick" was posted as Second +Lieutenant to the Tyneside Tail Twisters at Krab Bokhar, he became +an officer and a gentleman, which is an enviable thing; and there +was joy in the house of Wick, where Mamma Wick and all the little +Wicks fell upon their knees and offered incense to Bobby by virtue +of his achievements. + +Papa Wick had been a Commissioner in his day, holding authority +over three millions of men in the Chota-Buldana Division, building +great works for the good of the land, and doing his best to make +two blades of grass grow where there was but one before. Of +course, nobody knew anything about this in the little English +village where he was just "old Mr. Wick" and had forgotten that he +was a Companion of the Order of the Star of India. + +He patted Bobby on the shoulder and said: "Well done, my boy!" + +There followed, while the uniform was being prepared, an interval +of pure delight, during which Bobby took brevet-rank as a "man" at +the women-swamped tennis-parties and tea-fights of the village, +and, I daresay, had his joining-time been extended, would have +fallen in love with several girls at once. Little country villages +at Home are very full of nice girls, because all the young men +come out to India to make their fortunes. + +"India," said Papa Wick, "is the place. I've had thirty years of +it, and, begad, I'd like to go back again. When you join the Tail +Twisters you'll be among friends, if every one hasn't forgotten +Wick of Chota-Buldana, and a lot of people will be kind to you for +our sakes. The mother will tell you more about outfit than I can, +but remember this. Stick to your Regiment, Bobby - stick to your +Regiment. You'll see men all round you going into the Staff Corps, +and doing every possible sort of duty but regimental, and you may +be tempted to follow suit. Now so long as you keep within your +allowance, and I haven't stinted you there, stick to the Line, the +whole Line, and nothing but the Line. Be careful how you back +another young fool's bill, and if you fall in love with a woman +twenty years older than yourself, don't tell me about it, that's +all." + +With these counsels, and many others equally valuable, did Papa +Wick fortify Bobby ere that last awful night at Portsmouth when +the Officers' Quarters held more inmates than were provided for by +the Regulations, and the liberty-men of the ships fell foul of the +drafts for India, and the battle raged from the Dockyard Gates +even to the slums of Longport, while the drabs of Fratton came +down and scratched the faces of the Queen's Officers. + +Bobby Wick, with an ugly bruise on his freckled nose, a sick and +shaky detachment to manoeuvre inship, and the comfort of fifty +scornful females to attend to, had no time to feel homesick till +the Malabar reached mid-Channel, when he doubled his emotions with +a little guard-visiting and a great many other matters. + +The Tail Twisters were a most particular Regiment. Those who knew +them least said that they were eaten up with "side." But their +reserve and their internal arrangements generally were merely +protective diplomacy. Some five years before, the Colonel +commanding had looked into the fourteen fearless eyes of seven +plump and juicy subalterns who had all applied to enter the Staff +Corps, and had asked them why the three stars should he, a colonel +of the Line, command a dashed nursery for double-dashed bottle- +suckers who put on condemned tin spurs and rode qualified mokes at +the hiatused heads of forsaken Black Regiments. He was a rude man +and a terrible. Wherefore the remnant took measures (with the +half-butt as an engine of public opinion) till the rumour went +abroad that young men who used the Tail Twisters as a crutch to +the Staff Corps had many and varied trials to endure. However, a +regiment has just as much right to its own secrets as a woman. + +When Bobby came up from Deolali and took his place among the Tail +Twisters, it was gently but firmly borne in upon him that the +Regiment was his father and his mother and his indissolubly wedded +wife, and that there was no crime under the canopy of heaven +blacker than that of bringing shame on the Regiment, which was the +best-shooting, best-drilled, best set-up, bravest, most +illustrious, and in all respects most desirable Regiment within +the compass of the Seven Seas. He was taught the legends of the +Mess Plate, from the great grinning Golden Gods that had come out +of the Summer Palace in Pekin to the silver-mounted markhor-horn +snuffmull presented by the last C. 0. (he who spake to the seven +subalterns). And every one of those legends told him of battles +fought at long odds, without fear as without support; of +hospitality catholic as an Arab's; of friendships deep as the sea +and steady as the fighting-line; of honour won by hard roads for +honour's sake; and of instant and unquestioning devotion to the +Regiment - the Regiment that claims the lives of all and lives +forever. + +More than once, too, he came officially into contact with the +Regimental colours, which looked like the lining of a bricklayer's +hat on the end of a chewed stick. Bobby did not kneel and worship +them, because British subalterns are not constructed in that +manner. Indeed, he condemned them for their weight at the very +moment that they were filling him with awe and other more noble +sentiments. + +But best of all was the occasion when he moved with the Tail +Twisters in review order at the breaking of a November day. +Allowing for duty-men and sick, the Regiment was one thousand and +eighty strong, and Bobby belonged to them; for was he not a +Subaltern of the Line, - the whole Line and nothing but the Line, +- as the tramp of two thousand one hundred and sixty sturdy +ammunition boots attested? He would not have changed places with +Deighton of the Horse Battery, whirling by in a pillar of cloud to +a chorus of "Strong right! Strong left!" or Hogan-Yale of the +White Hussars, leading his squadron for all it was worth, with the +price of horseshoes thrown in; or "Tick" Boileau, trying to live +up to his fierce blue and gold turban while the wasps of the +Bengal Cavalry stretched to a gallop in the wake of the long, +lollopping Walers of the White Hussars. + +They fought through the clear cool day, and Bobby felt a little +thrill run down his spine when he heard the tinkle-tinkle-tinkle +of the empty cartridge-cases hopping from the breech-blocks after +the roar of the volleys; for he knew that he should live to hear +that sound in action. The review ended in a glorious chase across +the plain - batteries thundering after cavalry to the huge disgust +of the White Hussars, and the Tyneside Tail Twisters hunting a +Sikh Regiment till the lean, lathy Singhs panted with exhaustion. +Bobby was dusty and dripping long before noon, but his enthusiasm +was merely focused - not diminished. + +He returned to sit at the feet of Revere, his "skipper," that is +to say, the Captain of his Company, and to be instructed in the +dark art and mystery of managing men, which is a very large part +of the Profession of Arms. + +"If you haven't a taste that way," said Revere between his puffs +of his cheroot, "you'll never be able to get the hang of it, but +remember, Bobby, 'tisn't the best drill, though drill is nearly +everything, that hauls a Regiment through Hell and out on the +other side. It's the man who knows how to handle men - goat-men, +swine-men, dog-men, and so on." + +"Dormer, for instance," said Bobby; "I think he comes under the +head of fool-men. He mopes like a sick owl." + +"That 's where you make your mistake, my son. Dormer isn't a fool +yet, but he's a dashed dirty soldier, and his room corporal makes +fun of his socks before kit-inspection. Dormer, being two-thirds +pure brute, goes into a corner and growls." + +"How do you know'?" said Bobby admiringly. + +"Because a Company commander has to know these things - because, +if he does not know, he may have crime - ay, murder - brewing +under his very nose and yet not see that it's there. Dormer is +being badgered out of his mind - big as he is - and he hasn't +intellect enough to resent it. He's taken to quiet boozing, and, +Bobby, when the butt of a room goes on the drink, or takes to +moping by himself, measures are necessary to pull him out of +himself." + +"What measures? 'Man can't run round coddling his men for ever." + +"No. The men would precious soon show him that he was not wanted. +You've got to - + +Here the Colour-sergeant entered with some papers; Bobby reflected +for a while as Revere looked through the Company forms. + +"Does Dormer do anything, Sergeant?" Bobby asked with the air of +one continuing an interrupted conversation. + +"No, sir. Does 'is dooty like a hortomato," said the Sergeant, who +delighted in long words. "A dirty soldier, and 'e's under full +stoppages for new kit. It's covered with scales, sir." + +"Scales? What scales?" + +"Fish-scales, sir. 'E's always pokin' in the mud by the river an' +a-cleanin' them muchly-fish with 'is thumbs." Revere was still +absorbed in the Company papers, and the Sergeant, who was sternly +fond of Bobby, continued, -" 'E generally goes down there when +'e's got 'is skinful, beggin' your pardon, sir, an' they do say +that the more lush - inebriated 'e is, the more fish 'e catches. +They call 'im the Looney Fishmonger in the Comp'ny, sir." + +Revere signed the last paper and the Sergeant retreated. + +"It's a filthy amusement," sighed Bobby to himself. Then aloud to +Revere: "Are you really worried about Dormer?" + +"A little. You see he's never mad enough to send to hospital, or +drunk enough to run in, but at any minute he may flare up, +brooding and sulking as he does. He resents any interest being +shown in him, and the only time I took him out shooting he all but +shot me by accident." + +"I fish," said Bobby, with a wry face. "I hire a country-boat and +go down river from Thursday to Sunday, and the amiable Dormer goes +with me - if you can spare us both." + +"You blazing young fool!" said Revere, but his heart was full of +much more pleasant words. + +Bobby, the Captain of a dhoni, with Private Dormer for mate, +dropped down the river on Thursday morning - the Private at the +bow, the Subaltern at the helm. The Private glared uneasily at the +Subaltern, who respected the reserve of the Private. + +After six hours, Dormer paced to the stern, saluted, and said -" +Beg y' pardon, sir, but was you ever on the Durh'm Canal?" + +"No," said Bobby Wick. "Come and have some tiffin." + +They ate in silence. As the evening fell, Private Dormer broke +forth, speaking to himself - + +"Hi was on the Durh'm Canal, jes' such a night, come next week +twelvemonth, a-trailin' of my toes in the water." He smoked and +said no more till bedtime. + +The witchery of the dawn turned the gray river-reaches to purple, +gold, and opal; and it was as though the lumbering dhoni crept +across the splendours of a new heaven. + +Private Dormer popped his head out of his blanket and gazed at the +glory below and around. + +"Well - damn - my eyes!" said Private Dormer in an awed whisper. +"This 'ere is like a bloomin' gallantry-show!" For the rest of the +day he was dumb, but achieved an ensanguined filthiness through +the cleaning of big fish. + +The boat returned on Saturday evening. Dormer had been struggling +with speech since noon. As the lines and luggage were being +disembarked, he found tongue. + +"Beg y' pardon, sir," he said, "but would you - would you min' +shakin' 'ands with me, sir?" + +"Of course not," said Bobby, and he shook accordingly. Dormer +returned to barracks and Bobby to mess. + +"He wanted a little quiet and some fishing, I think," said Bobby. +"My aunt, but he's a filthy sort of animal! Have you ever seen him +clean 'them muchly-fish with 'is thumbs?" + +"Anyhow," said Revere three weeks later, "he's doing his best to +keep his things clean." + +When the spring died, Bobby joined in the general scramble for +Hill leave, and to his surprise and delight secured three months. + +"As good a boy as I want," said Revere, the admiring skipper. + +"The best of the batch," said the Adjutant to the Colonel. "Keep +back that young skrimshanker Porkiss, sir, and let Revere make him +sit up." + +So Bobby departed joyously to Simla Pahar with a tin box of +gorgeous raiment. + +"Son of Wick - old Wick of Chota-Buldana? Ask him to dinner, +dear," said the aged men. + +"What a nice boy!" said the matrons and the maids. + +"First-class place, Simla. Oh, ri - - ipping!" said Bobby Wick, +and ordered new white cord breeches on the strength of it. + +"We're in a bad way," wrote Revere to Bobby at the end of two +months. "Since you left, the Regiment has taken to fever and is +fairly rotten with it - two hundred in hospital, about a hundred +in cells - drinking to keep off fever - and the Companies on +parade fifteen file strong at the outside. There's rather more +sickness in the out-villages than I care for, but then I'm so +blistered with prickly-heat that I'm ready to hang myself. What's +the yarn about your mashing a Miss Haverley up there? Not serious, +I hope? You're over-young to hang millstones round your neck, and +the Colonel will turf you out of that in double-quick time if you +attempt it." + +It was not the Colonel that brought Bobby out of Simla, but a much +more to be respected Commandant. The sickness in the out-villages +spread, the Bazar was put out of bounds, and then came the news +that the Tail Twisters must go into camp. The message flashed to +the Hill stations. - "Cholera - Leave stopped - Officers +recalled." Alas, for the white gloves in the neatly soldered +boxes, the rides and the dances and picnics that were to be, the +loves half spoken, and the debts +unpaid! Without demur and without question, fast as tonga could +fly or pony gallop, back to their Regiments and their Batteries, +as though they were hastening to their weddings, fled the +subalterns. + +Bobby received his orders on returning from a dance at Viceregal +Lodge, where he had but only the Haverley girl knows what Bobby +had said or how many waltzes he had claimed for the next ball. Six +in the morning saw Bobby at the Tonga Office in the drenching +rain, the whirl of the last waltz still in his ears, and an +intoxication due neither to wine nor waltzing in his brain. + +"Good man!" shouted Deighton of the Horse Battery through the +mists. "Whar you raise dat tonga? I'm coming with you. Ow! But +I've a head and half. I didn't sit out all night. They say the +Battery's awful bad," and he hummed dolorously - + +"Leave the what at the what's-its-name, +Leave the flock without shelter, +Leave the corpse uninterred, +Leave the bride at the altar + + +"My faith! It'll be more bally corpse than bride, though, this +journey. Jump in, Bobby. Get on, Coachwan!" + +On the Umballa platform waited a detachment of officers discussing +the latest news from the stricken cantonment, and it was here that +Bobby learned the real condition of the Tail Twisters. + +"They went into camp," said an elderly Major recalled from the +whist-tables at Mussoorie to a sickly Native Regiment, "they went +into camp with two hundred and ten sick in carts. Two hundred and +ten fever cases only, and the balance looking like so many ghosts +with sore eyes. A Madras Regiment could have walked through 'em." + +"But they were as fit as be-damned when I left them!" said Bobby. + +"Then you'd better make them as fit as be-damned when you rejoin," +said the Major brutally. + +Bobby pressed his forehead against the rain-splashed window-pane +as the train lumbered across the sodden Doab, and prayed for the +health of the Tyneside Tail Twisters. Naini Tal had sent down her +contingent with all speed; the lathering ponies of the Dalhousie +Road staggered into Pathankot, taxed to the full stretch of their +strength; while from cloudy Darjiling the Calcutta Mail whirled up +the last straggler of the little army that was to fight a fight, +in which was neither medal nor honour for the winning, against an +enemy none other than "the sickness that destroyeth in the +noonday." + +And as each man reported himself, he said: "This is a bad +business," and went about his own forthwith, for every Regiment +and Battery in the cantonment was under canvas, the sickness +bearing them company. + +Bobby fought his way through the rain to the Tail Twisters' +temporary mess, and Revere could have fallen on the boy's neck for +the joy of seeing that ugly, wholesome phiz once more. + +"Keep 'em amused and interested," said Revere. "They went on the +drink, poor fools, after the first two cases, and there was no +improvement. Oh, it's good to have you back, Bobby! Porkiss is a - +never mind." + +Deighton came over from the Artillery camp to attend a dreary mess +dinner, and contributed to the general gloom by nearly weeping +over the condition of his beloved Battery. Porkiss so far forgot +himself as to insinuate that the presence of the officers could do +no earthly good, and that the best thing would be to send the +entire Regiment into hospital and "let the doctors look after +them." Porkiss was demoralised with fear, nor was his peace of +mind restored when Revere said coldly: "Oh! The sooner you go out +the better, if that's your way of thinking. Any public school +could send us fifty good men in your place, but it takes time, +time, Porkiss, and money, and a certain amount of trouble, to make +a Regiment. S'pose you're the person we go into camp for, eh?" + +Whereupon Porkiss was overtaken with a great and chilly fear which +a drenching in the rain did not allay, and, two days later, +quitted this world for another where, men do fondly hope, +allowances are made for the weaknesses of the flesh. The +Regimental Sergeant-Major looked wearily across the Sergeants' +Mess tent when the news was announced. + +"There goes the worst of them," he said. "It'll take the best, and +then, please God, it'll stop." The Sergeants were silent till one +said: "It couldn't be him!" and all knew of whom Travis was +thinking. + +Bobby Wick stormed through the tents of his Company, rallying, +rebuking, mildly, as is consistent with the Regulations, chaffing +the fainthearted; haling the sound into the watery sunlight when +there was a break in the weather, and bidding them be of good +cheer, for their trouble was nearly at an end; scuttling on his +dun pony round the outskirts of the camp and heading back men who, +with the innate perversity of British soldiers, were always +wandering into infected villages, or drinking deeply from rain- +flooded marshes; comforting the panic-stricken with rude speech, +and more than once tending the dying who had no friends - the men +without "townies"; organizing, with banjos and burnt cork, Sing- +songs which should allow the talent of the Regiment full play; and +generally, as he explained, "playing the giddy garden-goat all +round." + +"You're worth half a dozen of us, Bobby," said Revere in a moment +of enthusiasm. "How the devil do you keep it up?" + +Bobby made no answer, but had Revere looked into the breast-pocket +of his coat he might have seen there a sheaf of badly-written +letters which perhaps accounted for the power that possessed the +boy. A letter came to Bobby every other day. The spelling was not +above reproach, but the sentiments must have been most +satisfactory, for on receipt Bobby's eyes softened marvellously, +and he was wont to fall into a tender abstraction for a while ere, +shaking his cropped head, he charged into his work. + +By what power he drew after him the hearts of the roughest, and +the Tail Twisters counted in their ranks some rough diamonds +indeed, was a mystery to both skipper and C. 0., who learned from +the regimental chaplain that Bobby was considerably more in +request in the hospital tents than the Reverend John Emery. + +"The men seem fond of you. Are you in the hospitals much?" said +the Colonel, who did his daily round and ordered the men to get +well with a hardness that did not cover his bitter grief. + +"A little, sir," said Bobby. + +"Shouldn't go there too often if I were you. They say it's not +contagious, but there's no use in running unnecessary risks. We +can't afford to have you down, y' know." + +Six days later, it was with the utmost difficulty that the post- +runner plashed his way out to the camp with the mail-bags, for the +rain was falling in torrents. Bobby received a letter, bore it off +to his tent, and, the programme for the next week's Sing-song +being satisfactorily disposed of, sat down to answer it. For an +hour the unhandy pen toiled over the paper, and where sentiment +rose to more than normal tide-level, Bobby Wick stuck out his +tongue and breathed heavily. He was not used to letter-writing. + +"Beg y' pardon, sir," said a voice at the tent door; "but Dormer's +'orrid bad, sir, an' they've taken him orf, sir." + +"Damn Private Dormer and you too!" said Bobby Wick, running the +blotter over the half-finished letter. "Tell him I'll come in the +morning." + +"'E's awful bad, sir," said the voice hesitatingly. There was an +undecided squelching of heavy boots. + +"Well?" said Bobby impatiently. + +"Excusin' 'imself before 'and for takin' the liberty, 'e says it +would be a comfort for to assist 'im, sir, if - + +" + + + + +tattoo lao! Get my pony! Here, come in out of the rain till I'm +ready. What blasted nuisances you are! That's brandy. Drink some; +you want it. Hang on to my stirrup and tell me if I go too fast." + +Strengthened by a four-finger "nip" which he swallowed without a +wink, the Hospital Orderly kept up with the slipping, mud-stained, +and very disgusted pony as it shambled to the hospital tent. + +Private Dormer was certainly "'orrid bad." He had all but reached +the stage of collapse, and was not pleasant to look upon. + +"What's this, Dormer?" said Bobby, bending over the man. "You're +not going out this time. You've got to come fishing with me once +or twice more yet." + +The blue lips parted and in the ghost of a whisper said, - "Beg y' +pardon, sir, disturbin' of you now, but would you min' 'oldin' my +'and, sir'? + +Bobby sat on the side of the bed, and the icy-cold hand closed on +his own like a vice, forcing a lady's ring which was on the little +finger deep into the flesh. Bobby set his lips and waited, the +water dripping from the hem of his trousers. An hour passed, and +the grasp of the hand did not relax, nor did the expression of the +drawn face change. Bobby with infinite craft lit himself a cheroot +with the left hand (his right arm was numbed to the elbow), and +resigned himself to a night of pain. + +Dawn showed a very white-faced Subaltern sitting on the side of a +sick man's cot, and a Doctor in the doorway using language unfit +for publication. + +"Have you been here all night, you young ass?" said the Doctor. + +"There or thereabouts," said Bobby ruefully. "He's frozen on to +me." + +Dormer's mouth shut with a click. He turned his head and sighed. +The clinging hand opened, and Bobby's arm fell useless at his +side. + +"He'll do," said the Doctor quietly. "It must have been a toss-up +all through the night. 'Think you're to be congratulated on this +case." + +"Oh, bosh!" said Bobby. "I thought the man had gone out long ago - +only - only I didn't care to take my hand away. Rub my arm down, +there's a good chap. What a grip the brute has! I'm chilled to the +marrow!" He passed out of the tent shivering. + +Private Dormer was allowed to celebrate his repulse of Death by +strong waters. Four days later, he sat on the side of his cot and +said to the patients mildly: "I'd 'a' liken to 'a' spoken to 'im - +so I should." + +But at that time Bobby was reading yet another letter, - he had +the most persistent correspondent of any man in camp, - and was +even then about to write that the sickness had abated, and in +another week at the outside would be gone. He did not intend to +say that the chill of a sick man's hand seemed to have struck into +the heart whose capacities for affection he dwelt on at such +length. He did intend to enclose the illustrated programme of the +forthcoming Sing-song, whereof he was not a little proud. He also +intended to write on many other matters which do not concern us, +and doubtless would have done so but for the slight feverish +headache which made him dull and unresponsive at mess. + +"You are overdoing it, Bobby," said his skipper. "'Might give the +rest of us credit of doing a little work. You go on as if you were +the whole Mess rolled into one. Take it easy." + +"I will," said Bobby. "I'm feeling done up, somehow." Revere +looked at him anxiously and said nothing. + +There was a flickering of lanterns about the camp that night, and +a rumour that brought men out of their cots to the tent doors, a +paddling of the naked feet of doolie-bearers, and the rush of a +galloping horse. + +"Wot's up?" asked twenty tents; and through twenty tents ran the +answer - "Wick, 'e's down." + +They brought the news to Revere and he groaned. "Any one but Bobby +and I shouldn't have cared! The Sergeant-Major was right." + +"Not going out this journey," gasped Bobby, as he was lifted from +the doolie. "Not going out this journey." Then with an air of +supreme conviction - "I can't, you see." + +"Not if I can do anything!" said the Surgeon-Major, who had +hastened over from the mess where he had been dining. + +He and the Regimental Surgeon fought together with Death for the +life of Bobby Wick. Their work was interrupted by a hairy +apparition in a blue-gray dressing-gown, who stared in horror at +the bed and cried - "Oh, my Gawd! It can't be 'im!" until an +indignant Hospital Orderly whisked him away. + +If care of man and desire to live could have done aught, Bobby +would have been saved. As it was, he made a fight of three days, +and the Surgeon-Major's brow uncreased. "We'll save him yet," he +said; and the Surgeon, who, though he ranked with the Captain, had +a very youthful heart, went out upon the word and pranced joyously +in the mud. + +"Not going out this journey," whispered Bobby Wick gallantly, at +the end of the third day. + +"Bravo!" said the Surgeon-Major. "That's the way to look at it, +Bobby." + +As evening fell a gray shade gathered round Bobby's mouth, and he +turned his face to the tent-wall wearily. The Surgeon-Major +frowned. + +"I'm awfully tired," said Bobby, very faintly. "What's the use of +bothering me with medicine? I - don't - want - it. Let me alone." + +The desire for life had departed, and Bobby was content to drift +away on the easy tide of Death. + +"It's no good," said the Surgeon-Major. "He doesn't want to live. +He's meeting it, poor child." And he blew his nose. + +Half a mile away, the regimental band was playing the overture to +the Sing-song, for the men had been told that Bobby was out of +danger. The clash of the brass and the wail of the horns reached +Bobby's ears. + +Is there a single joy or pain, +That I should never kno-ow? +You do not love me, 'tis in vain, +Bid me good-bye and go! + +An expression of hopeless irritation crossed the boy's face, and +he tried to shake his head. + +The Surgeon-Major bent down -" What is it, Bobby? "---" Not that +waltz," muttered Bobby. "That's our own - our very ownest own . . +Mummy dear." + +With this he sank into the stupor that gave place to death early +next morning. + +Revere, his eyes red at the rims and his nose very white, went +into Bobby's tent to write a letter to Papa Wick which should bow +the white head of the ex-Commissioner of Chota-Buldana in the +keenest sorrow of his life. Bobby's little store of papers lay in +confusion on the table, and among them a half-finished letter. The +last sentence ran: "So you see, darling, there is really no fear, +because as long as I know you care for me and I care for you, +nothing can touch me." + +Revere stayed in the tent for an hour. When he came out, his eyes +were redder than ever. + +Private Conklin sat on a turned-down bucket, and listened to a not +unfamiliar tune. Private Conklin was a convalescent and should +have been tenderly treated. + +"Ho! "said Private Conklin. "There's another bloomin' orf'cer da- +ed." + +The bucket shot from under him, and his eyes filled with a +smithyful of sparks. A tall man in a blue-gray bedgown was +regarding him with deep disfavour. + +"You ought to take shame for yourself, Conky! Orf'cer? - bloomin' +orf'cer? I'll learn you to misname the likes of 'im. Hangel! +Bloomin' Hangel! That's wot 'e is!" + +And the Hospital Orderly was so satisfied with the justice of the +punishment that he did not even order Private Dormer back to his +cot. + + +IN THE MATTER OF A PRIVATE + +Hurrah! hurrah! a soldier's life for me! +Shout, boys, shout! for it makes you jolly and free. + +The Ramrod Corps. + +People who have seen say that one of the quaintest spectacles of +human frailty is an outbreak of hysterics in a girls' school. It +starts without warning, generally on a hot afternoon, among the +elder pupils. A girl giggles till the giggle gets beyond control. +Then she throws up her head and cries, "Honk, honk, honk," like a +wild goose, and tears mix with the laughter. If the mistress be +wise, she will rap out something severe at this point to check +matters. If she be tender-hearted, and send for a drink of water, +the chances are largely in favour of another girl laughing at the +afflicted one and herself collapsing. Thus the trouble spreads, +and may end in half of what answers to the Lower Sixth of a boys' +school rocking and whooping together. Given a week of warm +weather, two stately promenades per diem, a heavy mutton and rice +meal in the middle of the day, a certain amount of nagging from +the teachers, and a few other things, some amazing effects +develop. At least, this is what folk say who have had experience. + +Now, the Mother Superior of a Convent and the Colonel of a British +Infantry Regiment would be justly shocked at any comparison being +made between their respective charges. But it is a fact that, +under certain circumstances, Thomas in bulk can be worked up into +ditthering, rippling hysteria. He does not weep, but he shows his +trouble unmistakably, and the consequences get into the +newspapers, and all the good people who hardly know a Martini from +a Snider say: "Take away the brute's ammunition!" + +Thomas isn't a brute, and his business, which is to look after the +virtuous people, demands that he shall have his ammunition to his +hand. He doesn't wear silk stockings, and he really ought to be +supplied with a new Adjective to help him to express his opinions: +but, for all that, he is a great man. If you call him "the heroic +defender of the national honour" one day, and "a brutal and +licentious soldiery" the next, you naturally bewilder him, and he +looks upon you with suspicion. There is nobody to speak for Thomas +except people who have theories to work off on him, and nobody +understands Thomas except Thomas, and he does not always know what +is the matter with himself. + +That is the prologue. This is the story: - + +Corporal Slane was engaged to be married to Miss Jhansi M'Kenna, +whose history is well known in the regiment and elsewhere. He had +his Colonel's permission, and, being popular with the men, every +arrangement had been made to give the wedding what Private +Ortheris called "eeklar." It fell in the heart of the hot weather, +and, after the wedding, Slane was going up to the Hills with the +bride. None the less, Slane's grievance was that the affair would +be only a hired-carriage wedding, and he felt that the "eeklar" of +that was meagre. Miss M'Kenna did not care so much. The Sergeant's +wife was helping her to make her wedding-dress, and she was very +busy. Slane was, just then, the only moderately contented man in +barracks. All the rest were more or less miserable. + +And they had so much to make them happy, too. All their work was +over at eight in the morning, and for the rest of the day they +could lie on their backs and smoke Canteen-plug and swear at the +punkah-coolies. They enjoyed a fine, full flesh meal in the middle +of the day, and then threw themselves down on their cots and +sweated and slept till it was cool enough to go out with their +"towny," whose vocabulary contained less than six hundred words, +and the Adjective, and whose views on every conceivable question +they had heard many times before. + +There was the Canteen, of course, and there was the Temperance +Room with the second-hand papers in it; but a man of any +profession cannot read for eight hours a day in a temperature of +96 or 98 in the shade, running up sometimes to 103 at midnight. +Very few men, even though they get a pannikin of flat, stale, +muddy beer and hide it under their cots, can continue drinking for +six hours a day. One man tried, but he died, and nearly the whole +regiment went to his funeral because it gave them something to do. +It was too early for the excitement of fever or cholera. The men +could only wait and wait and wait, and watch the shadow of the +barrack creeping across the blinding white dust. That was a gay +life. + +They lounged about cantonments - it was too hot for any sort of +game, and almost too hot for vice - and fuddled themselves in the +evening, and filled themselves to distension with the healthy +nitrogenous food provided for them, and the more they stoked the +less exercise they took and more explosive they grew. Then tempers +began to wear away, and men fell a-brooding over insults real or +imaginary, for they had nothing else to think of. The tone of the +repartees changed, and instead of saying light-heartedly: I'll +knock your silly face in," men grew laboriously polite and hinted +that the cantonments were not big enough for themselves and their +enemy, and that there would be more space for one of the two in +another Place. + +It may have been the Devil who arranged the thing, but the fact of +the case is that Losson had for a long time been worrying Simmons +in an aimless way. It gave him occupation. The two had their cots +side by side, and would sometimes spend a long afternoon swearing +at each other; but Simmons was afraid of Losson and dared not +challenge him to a fight. He thought over the words in the hot +still nights, and half the hate he felt towards Losson he vented +on the wretched punkah-coolie. + +Losson bought a parrot in the bazar, and put it into a little +cage, and lowered the cage into the cool darkness of a well, and +sat on the well-curb, shouting bad language down to the parrot. He +taught it to say: "Simmons, ye so-oor," which means swine, and +several other things entirely unfit for publication. He was a big +gross man, and he shook like a jelly when the parrot had the +sentence correctly. Simmons, however, shook with rage, for all the +room were laughing at him - the parrot was such a disreputable +puff of green feathers and it looked so human when it chattered. +Losson used to sit, swinging his fat legs, on the side of the cot, +and ask the parrot what it thought of Simmons. The parrot would +answer: "Simmons, ye so-oor." Good boy," Losson used to say, +scratching the parrot's head; "ye 'ear that, Sim?" And Simmons +used to turn over on his stomach and make answer: "I 'ear. Take +'eed you don't 'ear something one of these days." + +In the restless nights, after he had been asleep all day, fits of +blind rage came upon Simmons and held him till he trembled all +over, while he thought in how many different ways he would slay +Losson. Sometimes he would picture himself trampling the life out +of the man with heavy ammunition-boots, and at others smashing in +his face with the butt, and at others jumping on his shoulders and +dragging the head back till the neckbone cracked. Then his mouth +would feel hot and fevered, and he would reach out for another sup +of the beer in the pannikin. + +But the fancy that came to him most frequently and stayed with him +longest was one connected with the great roll of fat under +Losson's right ear. He noticed it first on a moonlight night, and +thereafter it was always before his eyes. It was a fascinating +roll of fat. A man could get his hand upon it and tear away one +side of the neck; or he could place the muzzle of a rifle on it +and blow away all the head in a flash. Losson had no right to be +sleek and contented and well-to-do, when he, Simmons, was the butt +of the room. Some day, perhaps, he would show those who laughed at +the "Simmons, ye so-oor" joke, that he was as good as the rest, +and held a man's life in the crook of his forefinger. When Losson +snored, Simmons hated him more bitterly than ever. Why should +Losson be able to sleep when Simmons had to stay awake hour after +hour, tossing and turning on the tapes, with the dull liver pain +gnawing into his right side and his head throbbing and aching +after Canteen? He thought over this for many, many nights, and the +world became unprofitable to him. He even blunted his naturally +fine appetite with beer and tobacco; and all the while the parrot +talked at and made a mock of him. + +The heat continued and the tempers wore away more quickly than +before. A Sergeant's wife died of heat-apoplexy in the night, and +the rumour ran abroad that it was cholera. Men rejoiced openly, +hoping that it would spread and send them into camp. But that was +a false alarm. + +It was late on a Tuesday evening, and the men were waiting in the +deep double verandahs for "Last Post," when Simmons went to the +box at the foot of his bed, took out his pipe, and slammed the lid +down with a bang that echoed through the deserted barrack like the +crack of a rifle. Ordinarily speaking, the men would have taken no +notice; but their nerves were fretted to fiddle-strings. They +jumped up, and three or four clattered into the barrack-room only +to find Simmons kneeling by his box. + +"Ow! It's you, is it?" they said, and laughed foolishly. "We +thought 'twas -" + +Simmons rose slowly. If the accident had so shaken his fellows, +what would not the reality do? + +"You thought it was - did you? And what makes you think?" he said, +lashing himself into madness as he went on; "to Hell with your +thinking, ye dirty spies!" + +"Simmons, ye so-oor," chuckled the parrot in the verandah +sleepily, recognising a well-known voice. Now that was absolutely +all. + +The tension snapped. Simmons fell back on the arm-rack +deliberately, - the men were at the far end of the room, - and +took out his rifle and packet of ammunition. "Don't go playing the +goat, Sim!" said Losson. "Put it down," but there was a quaver in +his voice. Another man stooped, slipped his boot, and hurled it at +Simmons's head. The prompt answer was a shot which, fired at +random, found its billet in Losson's throat. Losson fell forward +without a word, and the others scattered. + +"You thought it was!" yelled Simmons. "You're drivin' me to it! I +tell you you're drivin' me to it! Get up, Losson, an' don't lie +shammin' there - you an' your blasted parrit that druv me to it! + +But there was an unaffected reality about Losson's pose that +showed Simmons what he had done. The men were still clamouring in +the verandah. Simmons appropriated two more packets of ammunition +and ran into the moonlight, muttering: "I'll make a night of it. +Thirty roun's, an' the last for myself. Take you that, you dogs!" + +He dropped on one knee and fired into the brown of the men on the +verandah, but the bullet flew high, and landed in the brickwork +with a vicious phwit that made some of the younger ones turn pale. +It is, as musketry theorists observe, one thing to fire and +another to be fired at. + +Then the instinct of the chase flared up. The news spread from +barrack to barrack, and the men doubled out intent on the capture +of Simmons, the wild beast, who was heading for the Cavalry +parade-ground, stopping now and again to send back a shot and a +curse in the direction of his pursuers. + +"I'll learn you to spy on me!" he shouted; "I'll learn you to give +me dorg's names! Come on, the 'ole lot o' you! Colonel John +Anthony Deever, C. B.!" -he turned towards the Infantry Mess and +shook his rifle - "you think yourself the devil of a man - but I +tell you that if you put your ugly old carcass outside o' that +door, I'll make you the poorest-lookin' man in the army. Come out, +Colonel John Anthony Deever, C. B.! Come Out and see me practiss +on the rainge. I'm +the crack shot of the 'ole bloomin' battalion." In proof of which +statement Simmons fired at the lighted windows of the mess-house. + +"Private Simmons, E Comp'ny, on the Cavalry p'rade-ground, Sir, +with thirty rounds," said a Sergeant breathlessly to the Colonel. +"Shootin' right and lef', Sir. Shot Private Losson. What's to be +done, Sir?" + +Colonel John Anthony Deever, C. B., sallied out, only to be +saluted by a spurt of dust at his feet. + +"Pull up!" said the Second in Command; "I don't want my step in +that way, Colonel. He's as dangerous as a mad dog." + +"Shoot him like one, then," said the Colonel bitterly, "if he +won't take his chance. My regiment, too! If it had been the +Towheads I could have understood." + +Private Simmons had occupied a strong position near a well on the +edge of the parade-ground, and was defying the regiment to come +on. The regiment was not anxious to comply, for there is small +honour in being shot by a fellow-private. Only Corporal Slane, +rifle in hand, threw himself down on the ground, and wormed his +way towards the well. + +"Don't shoot," said he to the men round him; "like as not you'll +'it me. I'll catch the beggar livin'." + +Simmons ceased shouting for a while, and th noise of trap-wheels +could be heard across the plain. Major Oldyne, Commanding the +Horse Battery, was coming back from a dinner in the Civil Lines; +was driving after his usual custom - that is to say, as fast as +the horse could go. + +"A orf'cer! A blooming spangled orf'cer!" shrieked Simmons; "I'll +make a scarecrow of that orf'cer!" The trap stopped. + +"What's this?" demanded the Major of Gunners. "You there, drop +your rifle." + +"Why, it's Jerry Blazes! I ain't got no quarrel with you, Jerry +Blazes. Pass, frien', an' all's well!" + +But Jerry Blazes had not the faintest intention of passing a +dangerous murderer. He was, as his adoring Battery swore long and +fervently, without knowledge of fear, and they were surely the +best judges, for Jerry Blazes, it was notorious, had done his +possible to kill a man each time the Battery went out. + +He walked towards Simmons, with the intention of rushing him and +knocking him down. + +"Don't make me do it, Sir," said Simmons; "I ain't got nothing +ag'in' you. Ah! you would?" - the Major broke into a run - "Take +that, then!" + +The Major dropped with a bullet through his shoulder, and Simmons +stood over him. He had lost the satisfaction of killing Losson in +the desired way: but here was a helpless body to his hand. Should +he slip in another cartridge, and blow off the head, or with the +butt smash in the white face? He stopped to consider, and a cry +went up from the far side of the parade-ground: "He's killed Jerry +Blazes!" But in the shelter of the well-pillars Simmons was safe, +except when he stepped out to fire. "I'll blow yer 'andsome 'ead +off, Jerry Blazes," said Simmons reflectively. "Six and three is +nine an' one is ten, an' that leaves me another nineteen, an' one +for myself" He tugged at the string of the second packet of +ammunition. Corporal Slane crawled out of the shadow of a bank +into the moonlight. + +"I see you!" said Simmons. "Come a bit furder on an' I'll do for +you." + +"I'm comin'," said Corporal Slane briefly; "you've done a bad +day's work, Sim. Come out 'ere an' come back with me." + +"Come to," laughed Simmons, sending a cartridge home with his +thumb. "Not before I've settled you an' Jerry Blazes." + +The Corporal was lying at full length in the dust of the parade- +ground, a rifle under him. Some of the less cautious men in the +distance shouted: "Shoot 'im! Shoot 'im, Slane!" + +"You move 'and or foot, Slane," said Simmons, "an' I'll kick Jerry +Blazes' 'ead in, and shoot you after." + +"I ain't movin'," said the Corporal, raising his head; "you +daren't 'it a man on 'is legs. Let go o' Jerry Blazes an' come out +o' that with your fistes. Come an' 'it me. You daren't, you bloom- +in' dog-shooter!" + +"I dare." + +"You lie, you man-sticker. You sneakin', Sheeny butcher, you lie. +See there!" Slane kicked the rifle away, and stood up in the peril +of his life. "Come on, now!" + +The temptation was more than Simmons could resist, for the +Corporal in his white clothes offered a perfect mark. + +"Don't misname me," shouted Simmons, firing as he spoke. The shot +missed, and the shooter, blind with rage, threw his rifle down and +rushed at Slane from the protection of the well. Within striking +distance, he kicked savagely at Slane's stomach, but the weedy +Corporal knew something of Simmons's weakness, and knew, too, the +deadly guard for that kick. Bowing forward and drawing up his +right leg till the heel of the right foot was set some three +inches above the inside of the left knee-cap, he met the blow +standing on one leg - exactly as Gonds stand when they meditate - +and ready for the fall that would follow. There was an oath, the +Corporal fell over to his own left as shinbone met shinbone, and +the Private collapsed, his right leg broken an inch above the +ankle. + +"Pity you don't know that guard, Sim," said Slane, spitting out +the dust as he rose. Then raising his voice - "Come an' take him +on. I've bruk 'is leg." This was not strictly true, for the +Private had accomplished his own downfall, since it is the special +merit of that leg-guard that the harder the kick the greater the +kicker's discomfiture. + +Slane walked to Jerry Blazes and hung over him with ostentatious +anxiety, while Simmons, weeping with pain, was carried away. "'Ope +you ain't 'urt badly, Sir," said Slane. The Major had fainted, and +there was an ugly, ragged hole through the top of his arm. Slane +knelt down and murmured: "S'elp me, I believe 'e's dead. Well, if +that ain't my blooming luck all over!" + +But the Major was destined to lead his Battery afield for many a +long day with unshaken nerve. He was removed, and nursed and +petted into convalescence, while the Battery discussed the wisdom +of capturing Simmons and blowing him from a gun. They idolised +their Major, and his reappearance on parade brought about a scene +nowhere provided for in the Army Regulations. + +Great, too, was the glory that fell to Slane's share. The Gunners +would have made him drunk thrice a day for at least a fortnight. +Even the Colonel of his own regiment complimented him upon his +coolness, and the local paper called him a hero. These things did +not puff him up. When the Major offered him money and thanks, the +virtuous Corporal took the one and put aside the other. But he had +a request to make and prefaced it with many a "Beg y' pardon, +Sir." Could the Major see his way to letting the Slane-M'Kenna +wedding be adorned by the presence of four Battery horses to pull +a hired barouche? The Major could, and so could the Battery. +Excessively so. It was a gorgeous wedding. + +"Wot did I do it for?" said Corporal Slane. +"For the 'orses o' course. Jhansi ain't a beauty to look at, but I +wasn't goin' to 'ave a hired turnout. Jerry Blazes? If I 'adn't +'a' wanted something, Sim might ha' blowed Jerry Blazes' blooming +'ead into Hirish stew for aught I'd 'a' cared." + + +And they hanged Private Simmons - hanged him as high as Haman in +hollow square of the regiment; and the Colonel said it was Drink; +and the Chaplain was sure it was the Devil; and Simmons fancied it +was both, but he didn't know, and only hoped his fate would be a +warning to his companions; and half a dozen "intelligent +publicists" wrote six beautiful leading articles on "The +Prevalence of Crime in the Army." + +But not a soul thought of comparing the "bloody-minded Simmons" to +the squawking, gaping school-girl with which this story opens. + + +THE LOST LEGION + +When the Indian Mutiny broke out, and a little time before the +siege of Delhi, a regiment of Native Irregular Horse was stationed +at Peshawur on the frontier of India. That regiment caught what +John Lawrence called at the time "the prevalent mania," and would +have thrown in its lot with the mutineers, had it been allowed to +do so. The chance never came, for, as the regiment swept off down +south, it was headed off by a remnant of an English corps into the +hills of Afghanistan, and there the newly conquered tribesmen +turned against it as wolves turn against buck. It was hunted for +the sake of its arms and accoutrements from hill to hill, from +ravine to ravine, up and down the dried beds of rivers and round +the shoulders of bluffs, till it disappeared as water sinks in the +sand +- this officerless rebel regiment. The only trace left of its +existence to-day is a nominal roll drawn up in neat round hand and +countersigned by an officer who called himself, "Adjutant, late +Irregular Cavalry." The paper is yellow with years and dirt, but +on the back of it you can still read a pencil-note by John +Lawrence, to this effect: "See that the two native officers who +remained loyal are not deprived of their estates. -J. L." Of six +hundred and fifty sabres only two stood strain, and John Lawrence +in the midst of all the agony of the first months of the Mutiny +found time to think about their merits. + +That was more than thirty years ago, and the tribesmen across the +Afghan border who helped to annihilate the regiment are now old +men. Sometimes a graybeard speaks of his share in the massacre. +"They came," he will say, "across the border, very proud, calling +upon us to rise and kill the English, and go down to the sack of +Delhi. But we who had just been conquered by the same English knew +that they were over-bold, and that the Government could account +easily for those down-country dogs. This Hindustani regiment, +therefore, we treated with fair words, and kept standing in one +place till the redcoats came after them very hot and angry. Then +this regiment ran forward a little more into our hills to avoid +the wrath of the English, and we lay upon their flanks watching +from the sides of the hills till we were well assured that their +path was lost behind them. Then we came down, for we desired their +clothes, and their bridles, and their rifles, and their boots - +more especially their boots. That was a great killing - done +slowly." Here the old man will rub his nose, and shake his long +snaky +locks, and lick his bearded lips, and grin till the yellow tooth- +stumps show. "Yea, we killed them because we needed their gear, +and we knew that their lives had been forfeited to God on account +of their sin - the sin of treachery to the salt which they had +eaten. They rode up and down the valleys, stumbling and rocking in +their saddles, and howling for mercy. We drove them slowly like +cattle till they were all assembled in one place, the flat wide +valley of Sheor Kt. Many had died from want of water, but there +still were many left, and they could not make any stand. We went +among them pulling them down with our hands two at a time, and our +boys killed them who were new to the sword. My share of the +plunder was such and such - so many guns, and so many saddles. The +guns were good in those days. Now we steal the Government rifles, +and despise smooth barrels. Yes, beyond doubt we wiped that +regiment from off the face of the earth, and even the memory of +the deed is now dying. But men say -" + +At this point the tale would stop abruptly, and it was impossible +to find out what men said across the border. The Afghans were +always a secretive race, and vastly preferred doing something +wicked to saying anything at all. They would be quiet and well- +behaved for months, till one night, without word or warning, they +would rush a police-post, cut the throats of a constable or two, +dash through a village, carry away three or four women, and +withdraw, in the red glare of burning thatch, driving the cattle +and goats before them to their own desolate hills. The Indian +Government would become almost tearful on these occasions. First +it would say, "Please be good and we'll forgive you." The tribe +concerned in the latest depredation would collectively put its +thumb to its nose and answer rudely. Then the Government would +say: "Hadn't you better pay up a little money for those few +corpses you left behind you the other night?" Here the tribe would +temporise, and lie and bully, and some of the younger men, merely +to show contempt of authority, would raid another police-post and +fire into some frontier mud-fort, and, if lucky, kill a real +English officer. Then the Government would say: -" Observe; if you +really persist in this line of conduct, you will be hurt." If the +tribe knew exactly what was going on in India, it would apologise +or be rude, according as it learned whether the Government was +busy with other things or able to devote its full attention to +their performances. Some of the tribes knew to one corpse how far +to go. Others became excited, lost their heads, and told the +Government to come on. With sorrow and tears, and one eye on the +British taxpayer at home, who insisted on regarding these +exercises as brutal wars of annexation, the Government would +prepare an expensive little field-brigade and some guns, and send +all up into the hills to chase the wicked tribe out of the +valleys, where the corn grew, into the hill-tops, where there was +nothing to eat. The tribe would turn out in full strength and +enjoy the campaign, for they knew that their women would never be +touched, that their wounded would be nursed, not mutilated, and +that as soon as each man's bag of corn was spent they could +surrender and palaver with the English General as though they had +been a real enemy. Afterwards, years afterwards, they would pay +the blood-money, driblet by driblet, to the Government, and tell +their children how they had slain the redcoats by thousands. The +only drawback to this kind of picnic-war was the weakness of the +redcoats for solemnly blowing up with powder their fortified +towers and keeps. This the tribes always considered mean. + +Chief among the leaders of the smaller tribes - the little clans +who knew to a penny the expense of moving white troops against +them - was a priest-bandit-chief whom we will call the Gulla Kutta +Mullah. His enthusiasm for Border murder as an art was almost +dignified. He would cut down a mail-runner from pure wantonness, +or bombard a mud-fort with rifle-fire when he knew that our men +needed to sleep. In his leisure moments he would go on circuit +among his neighbours, and try to incite other tribes to devilry. +Also, he kept a kind of hotel for fellow-outlaws in his own +village, which lay in a valley called Bersund. Any respectable +murderer on that section of the frontier was sure to lie up at +Bersund, for it was reckoned an exceedingly safe place. The sole +entry to it ran through a narrow gorge which could be converted +into a death-trap in five minutes. It was surrounded by high +hills, reckoned inaccessible to all save born mountaineers, and +here the Gulla Kutta Mullah lived in great state, the head of a +colony of mud and stone huts, and in each mud hut hung some +portion of a red uniform and the plunder of dead men. The +Government particularly wished for his capture, and once invited +him formally to come out and be hanged on account of the many +murders in which he had taken a direct part. He replied: - + +"I am only twenty miles, as the crow flies, from your border. Come +and fetch me." +"Some day we will come," said the Government, "and hanged you will +be." + +The Gulla Kutta Mullah let the matter slip from his mind. He knew +that the patience of the Government was as long as a summer day; +but he did not realise that its arm was as long as a winter night. +Months afterwards, when there was peace on the border, and all +India was quiet, the Indian Government turned in its sleep and +remembered the Gulla Kutta Mullah at Bersund, with his thirteen +outlaws. The movement against him of one single regiment - which +the telegrams would have translated as war - would have been +highly impolitic. This was a time for silence and speed, and, +above all, absence of bloodshed. + +You must know that all along the north-west frontier of India +there is spread a force of some thirty thousand foot and horse, +whose duty it is to quietly and unostentatiously shepherd the +tribes in front of them. They move up and down, and down and up, +from one desolate little post to another; they are ready to take +the field at ten minutes' notice; they are always half in and half +out of a difficulty somewhere along the monotonous line; their +lives are as hard as their own muscles, and the papers never say +anything about them. It was from this force that the Government +picked its men. + +One night, at a station where the mounted Night Patrol fire as +they challenge, and the wheat rolls in great blue-green waves +under our cold northern moon, the officers were playing billiards +in the mud-walled club-house, when orders came to them that they +were to go on parade at once for a night-drill. They grumbled, and +went to turn out their men - a hundred English troops, let us say, +two hundred Goorkhas, and about a hundred cavalry of the finest +native cavalry in the world. + +When they were on the parade-ground, it was explained to them in +whispers that they must set off at once across the hills to +Bersund. The English troops were to post themselves round the +hills at the side of the valley; the Goorkhas would command the +gorge and the death-trap, and the cavalry would fetch a long march +round and get to the back of the circle of hills, whence, if there +were any difficulty, they could charge down on the Mullah's men. +But orders were very strict that there should be no fighting and +no noise. They were to return in the morning with every round of +ammunition intact, and the Mullah and the thirteen outlaws bound +in their midst. If they were successful, no one would know or care +anything about their work; but failure meant probably a small +border war, in which the Gulla Kutta Mullah would pose as a +popular leader against a big bullying power, instead of a common +Border murderer. + +Then there was silence, broken only by the clicking of the +compass-needles and snapping of watch-cases, as the heads of +columns compared bearings and made appointments for the +rendezvous. Five minutes later the parade-ground was empty; the +green coats of the Goorkhas and the overcoats of the English +troops had faded into the darkness, and the cavalry were cantering +away in the face of a blinding drizzle. + +What the Goorkhas and the English did will be seen later on. The +heavy work lay with the horses, for they had to go far and pick +their way clear of habitations. Many of the troopers were natives +of that part of the world, ready and anxious to fight against +their kin, and some of the officers had made private and +unofficial excursions into those hills before. They crossed the +border, found a dried river-bed, cantered up that, walked through +a stony gorge, risked crossing a low hill under cover of the +darkness, skirted another hill, leaving their hoof-marks deep in +some ploughed ground, felt their way along another water-course, +ran over the neck of a spur praying that no one would hear their +horses grunting, and so worked on in the rain and the darkness +till they had left Bersund and its crater of hills a little behind +them, and to the left, and it was time to swing round. The ascent +commanding the back of Bersund was steep, and they halted to draw +breath in a broad level valley below the height. That is to say, +the men reined up, but the horses, blown as they were, refused to +halt. There was unchristian language, the worse for being +delivered in a whisper, and you heard the saddles squeaking in the +darkness as the horses plunged. + +The subaltern at the rear of one troop turned in his saddle and +said very softly: - + +"Carter, what the blessed heavens are you doing at the rear? Bring +your men up, man." + +There was no answer, till a trooper replied: - + +"Carter Sahib is forward - not here. There is nothing behind us." + +"There is," said the subaltern. "The squadron's walking on its own +tail." + +Then the Major in command moved down to the rear, swearing softly +and asking for the blood of Lieutenant Halley - the subaltern who +had just spoken. + +"Look after your rearguard," said the Major. "Some of your +infernal thieves have got lost. They're at the head of the +squadron, and you're a several kinds of idiot." + +"Shall I tell off my men, sir?" said the subaltern sulkily, for he +was feeling wet and cold. + +"Tell 'em off!" said the Major. "Whip 'em off, by Gad! You're +squandering them all over the place. There's a troop behind you +now!" + +"So I was thinking," said the subaltern calmly. "I have all my men +here, sir. Better speak to Carter." + +"Carter Sahib sends salaam and wants to know why the regiment is +stopping," said a trooper to Lieutenant Halley. + +"Where under heaven is Carter," said the Major. + +"Forward with his troop," was the answer. + +"Are we walking in a ring, then, or are we the centre of a blessed +brigade?" said the Major. + +By this time there was silence all along the column. The horses +were still; but, through the drive of the fine rain, men could +hear the feet of many horses moving over stony ground. + +"We're being stalked," said Lieutenant Halley. + +"They've no horses here. Besides they'd have fired before this," +said the Major. "It's - it's villagers' ponies." + +"Then our horses would have neighed and spoilt the attack long +ago. They must have been near us for half an hour," said the +subaltern. + +"Queer that we can't smell the horses," said the Major, damping +his finger and rubbing it on his nose as he sniffed up wind. + +"Well, it's a bad start," said the subaltern, shaking the wet from +his overcoat. "What shall we do, sir?" + +"Get on," said the Major. "We shall catch it to-night." + +The column moved forward very gingerly for a few paces. Then there +was an oath, a shower of blue sparks as shod hooves crashed on +small stones, and a man rolled over with a jangle of accoutrements +that would have waked the dead. + +"Now we've gone and done it," said Lieutenant Halley. "All the +hillside awake and all the hillside to climb in the face of +musketry-fire! This comes of trying to do night-hawk work." + +The trembling trooper picked himself up and tried to explain that +his horse had fallen over one of the little cairns that are built +of loose stones on the spot where a man has been murdered. There +was no need to give reasons. The Major's big Australian charger +blundered next, and the column came to a halt in what seemed to be +a very graveyard of little cairns, all about two feet high. The +manoeuvres of the squadron are not reported. Men said that it felt +like mounted quadrilles without training and without the music; +but at last the horses, breaking rank and choosing their own way, +walked clear of the cairns, till every man of the squadron +reformed and drew rein a few yards up the slope of the hill. Then, +according to Lieutenant Halley, there was another scene very like +the one which has been described. The Major and Carter insisted +that all the men had not joined rank, and that there were more of +them in the rear, clicking and blundering among the dead men's +cairns. Lieutenant Halley told off his own troopers again and +resigned himself to wait. Later on he said to me: + +"I didn't much know and I didn't much care what was going on. The +row of that trooper falling ought to have scared half the country, +and I would take my oath that we were being stalked by a full +regiment in the rear, and they were making row enough to rouse all +Afghanistan. I sat tight, but nothing happened." + +The mysterious part of the night's work was the silence on the +hillside. Everybody knew that the Gulla Kutta Mullah had his +outpost-huts on the reverse side of the hill, and everybody +expected, by the time that the Major had sworn himself into quiet, +that the watchmen there would open fire. When nothing happened, +they said that the gusts of the rain had deadened the sound of the +horses, and thanked Providence. At last the Major satisfied +himself (a) that he had left no one behind among the cairns, and +(b) that he was not being taken in the rear by a large and +powerful body of cavalry. The men's tempers were thoroughly +spoiled, the horses were lathered and unquiet, and one and all +prayed for the daylight. + +They set themselves to climb up the hill, each man leading his +mount carefully. Before they had covered the lower slopes or the +breast-plates had begun to tighten, a thunderstorm came up behind, +rolling across the low hills and drowning any noise less than that +of cannon. The first flash of the lightning showed the bare ribs +of the ascent, thc hill-crest standing steely-blue against the +black sky, the little falling lines of the rain, and, a few yards +to their left flank, an Afghan watch-tower, two-storied, built of +stone, and entered by a ladder from the upper story. The ladder +was up, and a man with a rifle was leaning from the window. The +darkness and the thunder rolled down in an instant, and, when the +lull followed, a voice from the watch-tower cried, "Who goes +there?" + +The cavalry were very quiet, but each man gripped his carbine and +stood beside his horse. Again the voice called, "Who goes there?" +and in a louder key, "0 brothers, give the alarm!" Now, every man +in the cavalry would have died in his long boots sooner than have +asked for quarter, but it is a fact that the answer to the second +call was a long wail of "Marf karo! Marf karo!" which means, "Have +mercy! Have mercy!" It came from the climbing regiment. + +The cavalry stood dumbfoundered, till the big troopers had time to +whisper one to another: +"Mir Khan, was that thy voice? Abdullah, didst thou call?" +Lieutenant Halley stood beside his charger and waited. So long as +no firing was going on he was content. Another flash of lightning +showed the horses with heaving flanks and nodding heads; the men, +white eye-balled, glaring beside them, and the stone watch-tower +to the left. This time there was no head at the window, and the +rude iron-clamped shutter that could turn a rifle-bullet was +closed. + +"Go on, men," said the Major. "Get up to the top at any rate!" The +squadron toiled forward, the horses wagging their tails and the +men pulling at the bridles, the stones rolling down the hillside +and the sparks flying. Lieutenant Halley declares that he never +heard a squadron make so much noise in his life. They scrambled +up, he said, as though each horse had eight legs and a spare horse +to follow him. Even then there was no sound from the watch-tower, +and the men stopped exhausted on the ridge that overlooked the pit +of darkness in which the village of Bersund lay. Girths were +loosed, curb-chains shifted, and saddles adjusted, and the men +dropped down among the stones. Whatever might happen now, they +held the upper ground of any attack. + +The thunder ceased, and with it the rain, and the soft thick +darkness of a winter night before the dawn covered them all. +Except for the sound of falling water among the ravines below, +everything was still. They heard the shutter of the watch-tower +below them thrown back with a clang, and the voice of the watcher +calling, "Oh, Hafiz Ullah!" + +The echoes took up the call, "La-la-la!" and an answer came from +the watch-tower hidden round the curve of the hill, "What is it, +Shahbaz Khan?" + +Shahbaz Khan replied in the high-pitched voice of the mountaineer: +"Hast thou seen?" + +The answer came back: "Yes. God deliver us from all evil spirits! + +There was a pause, and then: "Hafiz Ullah, I am alone! Come to +me." + +"Shahbaz Khan, I am alone also; but I dare not leave my post!" + +"That is a lie; thou art afraid." + +A longer pause followed, and then: "I am afraid. Be silent! They +are below us still. Pray to God and sleep." + +The troopers listened and wondered, for they could not understand +what save earth and stone could lie below the watch-towers. + +Shahbaz Khan began to call again: "They are below us. I can see +them! For the pity of God come over to me, Hafiz Ullah! My father +slew ten of them. Come over!" + +Hafiz Ullah answered in a very loud voice, "Mine was guiltless. +Hear, ye Men of the Night, neither my father nor my blood had any +part in that sin. Bear thou thine own punishment, Shahbaz Khan." + +"Oh, some one ought to stop those two chaps crowing away like +cocks there," said the Lieutenant, shivering under his rock. + +He had hardly turned round to expose a new side of him to the rain +before a bearded, long-locked, evil-smelling Afghan rushed up the +hill, and tumbled into his arms. Halley sat upon him, and thrust +as much of a sword-hilt as could be spared down the man's gullet. +"If you cry out, I kill you," he said cheerfully. + +The man was beyond any expression of terror. He lay and quaked, +gasping. When Halley took the sword-hilt from between his teeth, +he was still inarticulate, but clung to Halley's arm, feeling it +from elbow to wrist. + +"The Rissala! The dead Rissala! " he gasped, "It is down there!" + +"No; the Rissala, the very much alive Rissala. It is up here," +said Halley, unshipping his watering-bridle and fastening the +man's hands. "Why were you in the towers so foolish as to let us +pass?" + +"The valley is full of the dead," said the Afghan. "It is better +to fall into the hands of the English than the hands of the dead. +They march to and fro below there. I saw them in the lightning." + +He recovered his composure after a little, and whispering, because +Halley's pistol was at his stomach, said: "What is this? There is +no war between us now, and the Mullah will kill me for not seeing +you pass!" + +"Rest easy," said Halley; "we are coming to kill the Mullah, if +God please. His teeth have grown too long. No harm will come to +thee unless the daylight shows thee as a face which is desired by +the gallows for crime done. But what of the dead regiment?" + +"I only kill within my own border," said the man, immensely +relieved. "The dead regiment is below. The men must have passed +through it on their journey - four hundred dead on horses, +stumbling among their own graves, among the little heaps - dead +men all, whom we slew." + +"Whew!" said Halley. "That accounts for my cursing Carter and the +Major cursing me. Four hundred sabres, eh? No wonder we thought +there were a few extra men in the troop. Kurruk Shah," he +whispered to a grizzled native officer that lay within a few feet +of him, "hast thou heard anything of a dead Rissala in these +hills? + +"Assuredly," said Kurruk Shah with a grim chuckle. "Otherwise, why +did I, who have served the Queen for seven-and-twenty years, and +killed many hill-dogs, shout aloud for quarter when the lightning +revealed us to the watch-towers? When I was a young man I saw the +killing in the valley of Sheor-Kt there at our feet, and I know +the tale that grew up therefrom. But how can the ghosts of +unbelievers prevail against us who are of the Faith? Strap that +dog's hands a little tighter, Sahib. An Afghan is like an eel." + +"But a dead Rissala," said Halley, jerking his captive's wrist. +"That is foolish talk, Kurruk Shah. The dead are dead. Hold still, +Sag." The Afghan wriggled. + +"The dead are dead, and for that reason they walk at night. What +need to talk? We be men; we have our eyes and ears. Thou canst +both see and hear them down the hillside," said Kurruk Shah +composedly. + +Halley stared and listened long and intently. The valley was full +of stifled noises, as every valley must be at night; but whether +he saw or heard more than was natural Halley alone knows, and he +does not choose to speak on the subject. + +At last, and just before the dawn, a green rocket shot up from the +far side of the valley of Bersund, at the head of the gorge, to +show that the Goorkhas were in position. A red light from the +infantry at left and right answered it, and the cavalry burnt a +white flare. Afghans in winter are late sleepers, and it was not +till full day that the Gulla Kutta Mullah's men began to straggle +from their huts, rubbing their eyes. They saw men in green, and +red, and brown uniforms, leaning on their arms, neatly arranged +all round the crater of the village of Bersund, in a cordon that +not even a wolf could have broken. They rubbed their eyes the more +when a pink-faced young man, who was not even in the Army, but +represented the Political Department, tripped down the hillside +with two orderlies, rapped at the door of the Gulla Kutta Mullah's +house, and told him quietly to step out and be tied up for safe +transport. That same young man passed on through the huts, tapping +here one cateran and there another lightly with his cane; and as +each was pointed out, so he was tied up, staring hopelessly at the +crowned heights around where the English soldiers looked down with +incurious eyes. Only the Mullah tried to carry it off with curses +and high words, till a soldier who was tying his hands said: - + +"None o' your lip! Why didn't you come out when you was ordered, +instead o' keeping us awake all night? You're no better than my +own barrack-sweeper, you white-'eaded old polyanthus! Kim up!" + +Half an hour later the troops had gone away with the Mullah and +his thirteen friends. The dazed villagers were looking ruefully at +a pile of broken muskets and snapped swords, and wondering how in +the world they had come so to miscalculate the forbearance of the +Indian Government. + +It was a very neat little affair, neatly carried out, and the men +concerned were unofficially thanked for their services. + +Yet it seems to me that much credit is also due to another +regiment whose name did not appear in brigade orders, and whose +very existence is in danger of being forgotten. + + + +THE DRUMS OF THE FORE AND AFT + +In the Army List they still stand as "The Fore and Fit Princess +Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen-Anspach's Merther-Tydfilshire Own Royal +Loyal Light Infantry, Regimental District 329A," but the Army +through all its barracks and canteens knows them now as the "Fore +and Aft." They may in time do something that shall make their new +title honourable, but at present they are bitterly ashamed, and +the man who calls them "Fore and Aft" does so at the risk of the +head which is on his shoulders. + +Two words breathed into the stables of a certain Cavalry Regiment +will bring the men out into the streets with belts and mops and +bad language; but a whisper of "Fore and Aft" will bring out this +regiment with rifles. + +Their one excuse is that they came again and did their best to +finish the job in style. But for a time all their world knows that +they were openly beaten, whipped, dumb-cowed, shaking and afraid. +The men know it; their officers know it; the Horse Guards know it, +and when the next war comes the enemy will know it also. There are +two or three regiments of the Line that have a black mark against +their names which they will then wipe out; and it will be +excessively inconvenient for the troops upon whom they do their +wiping. + +The courage of the British soldier is officially supposed to be +above proof, and, as a general rule, it is so. The exceptions are +decently shovelled out of sight, only to be referred to in the +freshest of unguarded talk that occasionally swamps a Mess-table +at midnight. Then one hears strange and horrible stories of men +not following their officers, of orders being given by those who +had no right to give them, and of disgrace that, but for the +standing luck of the British Army, might have ended in brilliant +disaster. These are unpleasant stories to listen to, and the +Messes tell them under their breath, sitting by the big wood +fires, and the young officer bows his head and thinks to himself, +please God, his men shall never behave unhandily. + +The British soldier is not altogether to be blamed for occasional +lapses; but this verdict he should not know. A moderately +intelligent General will waste six months in mastering the craft +of the particular war that he may be waging; a Colonel may utterly +misunderstand the capacity of his regiment for three months after +it has taken the field, and even a Company Commander may err and +be deceived as to the temper and temperament of his own handful: +wherefore the soldier, and the soldier of to-day more +particularly, should not be blamed for fa1ling back. He should be +shot or hanged afterwards - to encourage the others; but he should +not be vilified in newspapers, for that is want of tact and waste +of space. + +He has, let us say, been in the service of the Empress for, +perhaps, four years. He will leave in another two years. He has no +inherited morals, and four years are not sufficient to drive +toughness into his fibre, or to teach him how holy a thing is his +Regiment. He wants to drink, he wants to enjoy himself - in India +he wants to save money - and he does not in the least like getting +hurt. He has received just sufficient education to make him +understand half the purport of the orders he receives, and to +speculate on the nature of clean, incised, and shattering wounds. +Thus, if he is told to deploy under fire preparatory to an attack, +he knows that he runs a very great risk of being killed while he +is deploying, and suspects that he is being thrown away to gain +ten minutes' time. He may either deploy with desperate swiftness, +or he may shuffle, or bunch, or break, according to the discipline +under which he has lain for four years. + +Armed with imperfect knowledge, cursed with the rudiments of an +imagination, hampered by the intense selfishness of the lower +classes, and unsupported by any regimental associations, this +young man is suddenly introduced to an enemy +who in eastern lands is always ugly, generally tall and hairy, and +frequently noisy. If he looks to the right and the left and sees +old soldiers - men of twelve years' service, who, he knows, know +what they are about - taking a charge, rush, or demonstration +without embarrassment, he is consoled and applies his shoulder to +the butt of his rifle with a stout heart. His peace is the greater +if he hears a senior, who has taught him his soldiering and broken +his head on occasion, whispering: "They'll shout and carry on like +this for five minutes. Then they'll rush in, and then we've got +'em by the short hairs!" + +But, on the other hand, if he sees only men of his own term of +service, turning white and playing with their triggers and saying: +"What the Hell's up now?" while the Company Commanders are +sweating into their sword-hilts and shouting: "Front rank, fix +bayonets. Steady there - steady! Sight for three hundred - no, for +five! Lie down, all! Steady! Front rank kneel!" and so forth, he +becomes unhappy, and grows acutely miserable when he hears a +comrade turn over with the rattle of fire-irons falling into the +fender, and the grunt of a pole-axed ox. If he can be moved about +a little and allowed to watch the effect of his own fire on the +enemy he feels merrier, and may be then worked up to the blind +passion of fighting, which is, contrary to general belief, +controlled by a chilly Devil and shakes men like ague. If he is +not moved about, and begins to feel cold at the pit of the +stomach, and in that crisis is badly mauled and hears orders that +were never given, he will break, and he will break badly, and of +all things under the light of the Sun there is nothing more +terrible than a broken British regiment. When the worst comes to +the worst and the panic is really epidemic, the men must be e'en +let go, and the Company Commanders had better escape to the enemy +and stay there for safety's sake. If they can be made to come +again they are not pleasant men to meet; because they will not +break twice. + +About thirty years from this date, when we have succeeded in half- +educating everything that wears trousers, our Army will be a +beautifully unreliable machine. It will know too much and it will +do too little. Later still, when all men are at the mental level +of the officer of to-day, it will sweep the earth. Speaking +roughly, you must employ either blackguards or gentlemen, or, best +of all, blackguards commanded by gentlemen, to do butcher's work +with efficiency and despatch. The ideal soldier should, of course, +think for himself - the "Pocket-book" says so. Unfortunately, to +attain this virtue, he has to pass through the phase of thinking +of himself, and that is misdirected genius. A blackguard may be +slow to think for himself, but he is genuinely anxious to kill, +and a little punishment teaches him how to guard his own skin and +perforate another's. A powerfully prayerful Highland Regiment, +officered by rank Presbyterians, is, perhaps, one degree more +terrible in action than a hard-bitten thousand of irresponsible +Irish ruffians led by most improper young unbelievers. But these +things prove the rule - which is that the midway men are not to be +trusted alone. They have ideas about the value of life and an +upbringing that has not taught them to go on and take the chances. +They are carefully unprovided with a backing of comrades who have +been shot over, and until that backing is re-introduced, as a +great many Regimental Commanders intend it shall be, they are more +liable to disgrace themselves than the size of the Empire or the +dignity of the Army allows. Their officers are as good as good can +be, because their training begins early, and God has arranged that +a clean-run youth of the British middle classes shall, in the +matter of backbone, brains, and bowels, surpass all other youths. +For this reason a child of eighteen will stand up, doing nothing, +with a tin sword in his hand and joy in his heart until he is +dropped. If he dies, he dies like a gentleman. If he lives, he +writes Home that he has been "potted," "sniped," "chipped," or +"cut over," and sits down to besiege Government for a wound- +gratuity until the next little war breaks out, when he perjures +himself before a Medical Board, blarneys his Colonel, burns +incense round his Adjutant, and is allowed to go to the Front once +more. + +Which homily brings me directly to a brace of the most finished +little fiends that ever banged drum or tootled fife in the Band of +a British Regiment. They ended their sinful career by open and +flagrant mutiny and were shot for it. Their names were Jakin and +Lew - Piggy Lew and they were bold, bad drummer-boys, both of them +frequently birched by the Drum-Major of the Fore and Aft. +- +Jakin was a stunted child of fourteen, and Lew was about the same +age. When not looked after, they smoked and drank. They swore +habitually after the manner of the Barrack-room, which is cold +swearing and comes from between clenched teeth, and they fought +religiously once a week. Jakin had sprung from some London gutter, +and may or may not have passed through Dr. Barnardo's hands ere he +arrived at the dignity of drummer-boy. Lew could remember nothing +except the Regiment and the delight of listening to the Band from +his earliest years. He hid somewhere in his grimy little soul a +genuine love for music, and was most mistakenly furnished with the +head of a cherub: insomuch that beautiful ladies who watched the +Regiment in church were wont to speak of him as a "darling." They +never heard his vitriolic comments on their manners and morals, as +he walked back to barracks with the Band and matured fresh causes +of offence against Jakin. + +The other drummer-boys hated both lads on account of their +illogical conduct. Jakin might be pounding Lew, or Lew might be +rubbing Jakin's head in the dirt, but any attempt at aggression on +the part of an outsider was met by the combined forces of Lew and +Jakin; and the consequences were painful. The boys were the +Ishmaels of the corps, but wealthy Ishmaels, for they sold battles +in alternate weeks for the sport of the barracks when they were +not pitted against other boys; and thus amassed money. + +On this particular day there was dissension in the camp. They had +just been convicted afresh of smoking, which is bad for little +boys who use plug-tobacco, and Lew's contention was that Jakin had +"stunk so 'orrid bad from keepin' the pipe in pocket," that he and +he alone was responsible for the birching they were both tingling +under. + +"I tell you I 'id the pipe back o' barracks," said Jakin +pacifically. + +"You're a bloomin' liar," said Lew without heat. + +"You're a bloomin' little barstard," said Jakin, strong in the +knowledge that his own ancestry was unknown. + +Now there is one word in the extended vocabulary of barrack-room +abuse that cannot pass without comment. You may call a man a thief +and risk nothing. You may even call him a coward without finding +more than a boot whiz past your ear, but you must not call a man a +bastard unless you are prepared to prove it on his front teeth. + +"You might ha' kep' that till I wasn't so sore," said Lew +sorrowfully, dodging round Jakin's guard. + +"I'll make you sorer," said Jakin genially, and got home on Lew's +alabaster forehead. All would have gone well and this story, as +the books say, would never have been written, had not his evil +fate prompted the Bazar-Sergeant's son, a long, employless man of +five-and-twenty, to put in an appearance after the first round. He +was eternally in need of money, and knew that the boys had silver. + +"Fighting again," said he. "I'll report you to my father, and +he'll report you to the Colour-Sergeant." + +"What's that to you?" said Jakin with an unpleasant dilation of +the nostrils. + +"Oh! nothing to me. You'll get into trouble, and you've been up +too often to afford that." + +"What the Hell do you know about what we've done?" asked Lew the +Seraph. "You aren't in the Army, you lousy, cadging civilian." + +He closed in on the man's left flank. + +"Jes' 'cause you find two gentlemen settlin' their diff'rences +with their fistes you stick in your ugly nose where you aren't +wanted. Run 'ome to your 'arf-caste slut of a Ma - or we'll give +you what-for," said Jakin. + +The man attempted reprisals by knocking the boys' heads together. +The scheme would have succeeded had not Jakin punched him +vehemently in the stomach, or had Lew refrained from kicking his +shins. They fought together, bleeding and breathless, for half an +hour, and, after heavy punishment, triumphantly pulled down their +opponent as terriers pull down a jackal. + +"Now," gasped Jakin, "I'll give you what-for." He proceeded to +pound the man's features while Lew stamped on the outlying +portions of his anatomy. Chivalry is not a strong point in the +composition of the average drummer-boy. He fights, as do his +betters, to make his mark. + +Ghastly was the ruin that escaped, and awful was the wrath of the +Bazar-Sergeant. Awful too was the scene in Orderly-room when the +two reprobates appeared to answer the charge of half-murdering a +"civilian." The Bazar-Sergeant thirsted for a criminal action, and +his son lied. The boys stood to attention while the black clouds +of evidence accumulated. + +"You little devils are more trouble than the rest of the Regiment +put together," said the Colonel angrily. "One might as well +admonish thistledown, and I can't well put you in cells or under +stoppages. You must be birched again." + +"Beg y' pardon, Sir. Can't we say nothin' in our own defence, +Sir?" shrilled Jakin. + +"Hey! What? Are you going to argue with me?" said the Colonel. + +"No, Sir," said Lew. "But if a man come to you, Sir, and said he +was going to report you, Sir, for 'aving a bit of a turn-up with a +friend, Sir, an' wanted to get money out o' you, Sir-" + +The Orderly-room exploded in a roar of laughter. "Well?" said the +Colonel. + +"That was what that measly jarnwar there did, Sir, and 'e'd 'a' +done it, Sir, if we 'adn't prevented 'im. We didn't 'it 'im much, +Sir. 'E 'adn't no manner o' right to interfere with us, Sir. I +don't mind bein' birched by the Drum-Major, Sir, nor yet reported +by any Corp'ral, but I'm - but I don't think it's fair, Sir, for a +civilian to come an' talk over a man in the Army." + +A second shout of laughter shook the Orderly-room, but the Colonel +was grave. + +"What sort of characters have these boys?" he asked of the +Regimental Sergeant-Major. + +"Accordin' to the Bandmaster, Sir," returned that revered official +- the only soul in the Regiment whom the boys feared - "they do +everything but lie, Sir." + +"Is it like we'd go for that man for fun, Sir?" said Lew, pointing +to the plaintiff. + +"Oh, admonished - admonished!" said the Colonel testily, and when +the boys had gone he read the Bazar-Sergeant's son a lecture on +the sin of unprofitable meddling, and gave orders that the +Bandmaster should keep the Drums in better discipline. + +"If either of you come to practice again with so much as a scratch +on your two ugly little faces," thundered the Bandmaster, "I'll +tell the Drum-Major to take the skin off your backs. Understand +that, you young devils." + +Then he repented of his speech for just the length of time that +Lew, looking like a seraph in red worsted embellishments, took the +place of one of the trumpets - in hospital - and rendered the echo +of a battle-piece. Lew certainly was a musician, and had often in +his more exalted moments expressed a yearning to master every +instrument of the Band. + +"There's nothing to prevent your becoming a Bandmaster, Lew," said +the Bandmaster, who had composed waltzes of his own, and worked +day and night in the interests of the Band. + +"What did he say?" demanded Jakin after practice. + +"Said I might be a bloomin' Bandmaster, an' be asked in to 'ave a +glass o' sherry wine on Mess-nights." + +"Ho! 'Said you might be a bloomin' noncombatant, did 'e! That's +just about wot 'e would say. When I've put in my boy's service +it's a bloomin' shame that doesn't count for pension - I'll take +on as a privit. Then I'll be a Lance in a year - knowin' what I +know about the ins an' outs o' things. In three years I'll be a +bloomin' Sergeant. I won't marry then, not I! I'll 'old on and +learn the orf'cers' ways an' apply for exchange into a reg'ment +that doesn't know all about me. Then I'll be a bloomin' orf'cer. +Then I'll ask you to 'ave a glass o' sherry wine, Mister Lew, an' +you'll bloomin' well 'ave to stay in the hanty-room while the +Mess-Sergeant brings it to your dirty 'ands." +- +"S'pose I'm going to be a Bandmaster? Not I, quite. I'll be a +orf'cer too. There's nothin' like takin' to a thing an' stickin' +to it, the Schoolmaster says. The Reg'ment don't go 'ome for +another seven years. I'll be a Lance then or near to." + +Thus the boys discussed their futures, and conducted themselves +piously for a week. That is to say, Lew started a flirtation with +the Colour-Sergeant's daughter, aged thirteen - "not," as he +explained to Jakin, "with any intention o' matrimony, but by way +o' keep in' my 'and in." And the black-haired Cris Delighan +enjoyed that flirtation more than previous ones, and the other +drummer-boys raged furiously together, and Jakin preached sermons +on the dangers of bein' tangled along o' petticoats." + +But neither love nor virtue would have held Lew long in the paths +of propriety had not the rumour gone abroad that the Regiment was +to be sent on active service, to take part in a war which, for the +sake of brevity, we will call "The War of the Lost Tribes." + +The barracks had the rumour almost before the Mess-room, and of +all the nine hundred men in barracks, not ten had seen a shot +fired in anger. The Colonel had, twenty years ago, assisted at a +Frontier expedition; one of the Majors had seen service at the +Cape; a confirmed deserter in E Company had helped to clear +streets in Ireland; but that was all. The Regiment had been put by +for many years. The overwhelming mass of its rank and file had +from three to four years' service; the non-commissioned officers +were under thirty years old; and men and sergeants alike had +forgotten to speak of the stories written in brief upon the +Colours - the New Colours that had been formally blessed by an +Archbishop in England ere the Regiment came away. They wanted to +go to the Front - they were enthusiastically anxious to go - but +they had no knowledge of what war meant, and there was none to +tell them. They were an educated regiment, the percentage of +school-certificates in their ranks was high, and most of the men +could do more than read and write. They had been recruited in +loyal observance of the territorial idea; but they themselves had +no notion of that idea. They were made up of drafts from an over- +populated manufacturing district. The system had put flesh and +muscle upon their small bones, but it could not put heart into the +sons of those who for generations had done overmuch work for +overscanty pay, had sweated in drying-rooms, stooped over looms, +coughed among white-lead, and shivered on lime-barges. The men had +found food and rest in the Army, and now they were going to fight +"niggers" - people who ran away if you shook a stick at them. +Wherefore they cheered lustily when the rumour ran, and the +shrewd, clerkly non-commissioned officers speculated on the +chances of batta and of saving their pay. At Headquarters men +said: "The Fore and Fit have never been under fire within the last +generation. Let us, therefore, break them in easily by setting +them to guard lines of communication." And this would have been +done but for the fact that British Regiments were wanted - badly +wanted - at the Front, and there were doubtful Native Regiments +that could fill the minor duties. "Brigade 'em with two strong +Regiments," said Headquarters. "They may be knocked about a bit, +but they'll learn their business before they come through. Nothing +like a night-alarm and a little cutting-up of stragglers to make a +Regiment smart in the field. Wait till they've had half a dozen +sentries' throats cut." + +The Colonel wrote with delight that the temper of his men was +excellent, that the Regiment was all that could be wished, and as +sound as a bell. The Majors smiled with a sober joy, and the +subalterns waltzed in pairs down the Mess-room after dinner, and +nearly shot themselves at revolver-practice. But there was +consternation in the hearts of Jakin and Lew. What was to be done +with the Drums? Would the Band go to the Front? How many of the +Drums would accompany the Regiment? + +They took counsel together, sitting in a tree and smoking. + +"It's more than a bloomin' toss-up they'll leave us be'ind at the +Depot with the women. You'll like that," said Jakin sarcastically. + +"Cause o' Cris, y' mean? Wot's a woman, or a 'ole bloomin' depot +o' women, 'longside o' the chanst of field-service? You know I'm +as keen on goin' as you," said Lew. + +"Wish I was a bloomin' bugler," said Jakin sadly. "They'll take +Tom Kidd along, that I can plaster a wall with, an' like as not +they won't take us." + +"Then let's go an' make Tom Kidd so bloomin' sick 'e can't bugle +no more. You 'old 'is 'ands an' I'll kick him," said Lew, +wriggling on the branch. + +"That ain't no good neither. We ain't the sort o' characters to +presoom on our rep'tations - they're bad. If they have the Band at +the Depot we don't go, and no error there. If they take the Band +we may get cast for medical unfitness. Are you medical fit, +Piggy?" said Jakin, digging Lew in the ribs with force. + +"Yus," said Lew with an oath. "The Doctor says your 'eart's weak +through smokin' on an empty stummick. Throw a chest an' I'll try +yer." + +Jakin threw out his chest, which Lew smote with all his might. +Jakin turned very pale, gasped, crowed, screwed up his eyes, and +said - "That's all right." + +"You'll do," said Lew. "I've 'eard o' men dying when you 'it 'em +fair on the breastbone." + +"Don't bring us no nearer goin', though," said Jakin. "Do you know +where we're ordered?" + +"Gawd knows, an' 'E won't split on a pal. Somewheres up to the +Front to kill Paythans - hairy big beggars that turn you inside +out if they get 'old o' you. They say their women are good- +looking, too." + +"Any loot?" asked the abandoned Jakin. + +"Not a bloomin' anna, they say, unless you dig up the ground an' +see what the niggers 'ave 'id. They're a poor lot." Jakin stood +upright on the branch and gazed across the plain. + +"Lew," said he, "there's the Colonel coming. 'Colonel's a good old +beggar. Let's go an' talk to 'im." + +Lew nearly fell out of the tree at the audacity of the suggestion. +Like Jakin he feared not God, neither regarded he Man, but there +are limits even to the audacity of a drummer-boy, and to speak to +a Colonel was - + +But Jakin had slid down the trunk and doubled in the direction of +the Colonel. That officer was walking wrapped in thought and +visions of a C. B. yes, even a K. C. B., for had he not at command +one of the best Regiments of the Line - the Fore and Fit? And he +was aware of two small boys charging down upon him. Once before it +had been solemnly reported to him that "the Drums were in a state +of mutiny," Jakin and Lew being the ringleaders. This looked like +an organised conspiracy. +- +The boys halted at twenty yards, walked to the regulation four +paces, and saluted together, each as well set-up as a ramrod and +little taller. + +The Colonel was in a genial mood; the boys appeared very forlorn +and unprotected on the desolate plain, and one of them was +handsome. + +"Well!" said the Colonel, recognising them. "Are you going to pull +me down in the open? I'm sure I never interfere with you, even +though" - he sniffed suspiciously - "you have been smoking." + +It was time to strike while the iron was hot. Their hearts beat +tumultuously. + +"Beg y' pardon, Sir," began Jakin. "The Reg'ment's ordered on +active service, Sir?" + +"So I believe," said the Colonel courteously. + +"Is the Band goin', Sir?" said both together. Then, without pause, +"We're goin', Sir, ain't we?" + +"You!" said the Colonel, stepping back the more fully to take in +the two small figures. "You! You'd die in the first march." + +"No, we wouldn't, Sir. We can march with the Reg'ment anywheres - +p'rade an' anywhere else," said Jakin. + +"If Tom Kidd goes 'e'll shut up like a clasp-knife," said Lew. +"Tom 'as very-close veins in both 'is legs, Sir." + +"Very how much?" + +"Very-close veins, Sir. That's why they swells after long p'rade, +Sir. If 'e can go, we can go, Sir." + +Again the Colonel looked at them long and intently. + +"Yes, the Band is going," he said as gravely as though he had been +addressing a brother officer. "Have you any parents, either of you +two?" + +"No, Sir," rejoicingly from Lew and Jakin. "We're both orphans, +Sir. There's no one to be considered of on our account, Sir." + +"You poor little sprats, and you want to go up to the Front with +the Regiment, do you? Why?" + +"I've wore the Queen's Uniform for two years," said Jakin. "It's +very 'ard, Sir, that a man don't get no recompense for doin' of +'is dooty, Sir." + +"An'- an' if I don't go, Sir," interrupted Lew, "the Bandmaster 'e +says 'e'll catch an' make a bloo - a blessed musician o' me, Sir. +Before I've seen any service, Sir." + +The Colonel made no answer for a long time. Then he said quietly: +"If you're passed by the Doctor I dare say you can go. I shouldn't +smoke if I were you." + +The boys saluted and disappeared. The Colonel walked home and told +the story to his wife, who nearly cried over it. The Colonel was +well pleased. If that was the temper of the children, what would +not the men do? + +Jakin and Lew entered the boys' barrack-room with great +stateliness, and refused to hold any conversation with their +comrades for at least ten minutes. Then, bursting with pride, +Jakin drawled: "I've bin intervooin' the Colonel. Good old beggar +is the Colonel. Says I to 'im, 'Colonel,' says I, 'let me go to +the Front, along o' the Reg'ment. - 'To the Front you shall go,' +says 'e, 'an' I only wish there was more like you among the dirty +little devils that bang the bloomin' drums.' Kidd, if you throw +your 'courtrements at me for tellin' you the truth to your own +advantage, your legs'll swell." + +None the less there was a Battle-Royal in the barrack-room, for +the boys were consumed with envy and hate, and neither Jakin nor +Lew behaved in conciliatory wise. + +"I'm goin' out to say adoo to my girl," said Lew, to cap the +climax. "Don't none o' you touch my kit because it's wanted for +active service; me bein' specially invited to go by the Colonel." + +He strolled forth and whistled in the clump of trees at the back +of the Married Quarters till Cris came to him, and, the +preliminary kisses being given and taken, Lew began to explain the +situation. + +"I'm goin' to the Front with the Reg'ment," he said valiantly. + +"Piggy, you're a little liar," said Cris, but her heart misgave +her, for Lew was not in the habit of lying. + +"Liar yourself, Cris," said Lew, slipping an arm round her. "I'm +goin'. When the Reg'ment marches out you'll see me with 'em, all +galliant and gay. Give us another kiss, Cris, on the strength of +it." + +"If you'd on'y a-stayed at the Depot - where you ought to ha' bin +- you could get as many of 'em as - as you dam please," whimpered +Cris, putting up her mouth. + +"It's 'ard, Cris. I grant you it's 'ard, But what's a man to do? +If I'd a-stayed at the Depot, you wouldn't think anything of me." + +"Like as not, but I'd 'ave you with me, Piggy. An' all the +thinkin' in the world isn't like kissin'." + +"An' all the kissin' in the world isn't like 'avin' a medal to +wear on the front o' your coat." + +"You won't get no medal." + +"Oh, yus, I shall though. Me an' Jakin are the only acting- +drummers that'll be took along. All the rest is full men, an' +we'll get our medals with them." + +"They might ha' taken anybody but you, Piggy. You'll get killed - +you're so venturesome. Stay with me, Piggy darlin', down at the +Depot, an' I'll love you true, for ever." + +"Ain't you goin' to do that now, Cris? You said you was." + +"0' course I am, but th' other's more comfortable. Wait till +you've growed a bit, Piggy. You aren't no taller than me now." + +"I've bin in the Army for two years, an' I'm not goin' to get out +of a chanst o' seein' service, an' don't you try to make me do so. +I'll come back, Cris, an' when I take on as a man I'll marry you - +marry you when I'm a Lance." + +"Promise, Piggy." + +Lew reflected on the future as arranged by Jakin a short time +previously, but Cris's mouth was very near to his own. + +"I promise, s'elp me Gawd!" said he. + +Cris slid an arm round his neck. + +"I won't 'old you back no more, Piggy. Go away an' get your medal, +an' I'll make you a new button-bag as nice as I know how," she +whispered. + +"Put some o' your 'air into it, Cris, an' I'll keep it in my +pocket so long's I'm alive." + +Then Cris wept anew, and the interview ended. Public feeling among +the drummer-boys rose to fever pitch, and the lives of Jakin and +Lew became unenviable. Not only had they been permitted to enlist +two years before the regulation boy's age - fourteen - but, by +virtue, it seemed, of their extreme youth, they were allowed to go +to the Front - which thing had not happened to acting-drummers +within the knowledge of boy. The Band which was to accompany the +Regiment had been cut down to the regulation twenty men, the +surplus returning to the ranks. Jakin and Lew were attached to the +Band as supernumeraries, though they would much have preferred +being company buglers. + +"Don't matter much," said Jakin after the medical inspection. "Be +thankful that we're 'lowed to go at all. The Doctor 'e said that +if we could stand what we took from the Bazar-Sergeant's son we'd +stand pretty nigh anything." + +"Which we will," said Lew, looking tenderly at the ragged and ill- +made housewife that Cris had given him, with a lock of her hair +worked into a sprawling "L" upon the cover. + +"It was the best I could," she sobbed. "I wouldn't let mother nor +the Sergeant's tailor 'elp me. Keep it always, Piggy, an' remember +I love you true." + +They marched to the railway station, nine hundred and sixty +strong, and every soul in cantonments turned out to see them go. +The drummers gnashed their teeth at Jakin and Lew marching with +the Band, the married women wept upon the platform, and the +Regiment cheered its noble self black in the face. + +"A nice level lot," said the Colonel to the Second-in-Command as +they watched the first four companies entraining. + +"Fit to do anything," said the Second-in-Command enthusiastically. +"But it seems to me they're a thought too young and tender for the +work in hand. It's bitter cold up at the Front now." + +"They're sound enough," said the Colonel. "We must take our chance +of sick casualties." + +So they went northward, ever northward, past droves and droves of +camels, armies of camp-followers, and legions of laden mules, the +throng thickening day by day, till with a shriek the train pulled +up at a hopelessly congested junction where six lines of temporary +track accommodated six forty-waggon trains; where whistles blew, +Babus sweated, and Commissariat officers swore from dawn till far +into the night, amid the wind-driven chaff of the fodder-bales and +the lowing of a thousand steers. + +"Hurry up - you're badly wanted at the Front," was the message +that greeted the Fore and Aft, and the occupants of the Red Cross +carriages told the same tale. + +"Tisn't so much the bloomin' fightin'," gasped a headbound trooper +of Hussars to a knot of admiring Fore and Afts. "Tisn't so much +the bloomin' fightin', though there's enough o' that. It's the +bloomin' food an' the bloomin' climate. Frost all night 'cept when +it hails, and b'iling sun all day, and the water stinks fit to +knock you down. I got my 'ead chipped like a egg; I've got +pneumonia too, an' my guts is all out o' order. 'Tain't no +bloomin' picnic in those parts, I can tell you." + +"Wot are the niggers like?" demanded a private. + +"There's some prisoners in that train yonder. Go an' look at 'em. +They're the aristocracy o' the country. The common folk are a +dashed sight uglier. If you want to know what they fight with, +reach under my seat an' pull out the +long knife that's there." + +They dragged out and beheld for the first time the grim, bone- +handled, triangular Afghan knife. It was almost as long as Lew. + +"That's the thing to j'int ye," said the trooper feebly. "It can +take off a man's arm at the shoulder as easy as slicing butter. I +halved the beggar that used that un, but there's more of his likes +up above. They don't understand thrustin', but they're devils to +slice." + +The men strolled across the tracks to inspect the Afghan +prisoners. They were unlike any "niggers" that the Fore and Aft +had ever met - these huge, black-haired, scowling sons of the +Beni-Israel. As the men stared the Afghans spat freely and +muttered one to another with lowered eyes. + +"My eyes! Wot awful swine!" said Jakin, who was in the rear of the +procession. "Say, ole man, how you got puckrowed, eh? Kiswasti you +wasn't hanged for your ugly face, hey?" + +The tallest of the company turned, his leg-irons clanking at the +movement, and stared at the boy. "See!" he cried to his fellows in +Pushto. "They send children against us. What a people, and what +fools!" + +"Hya." said Jakin, nodding his head cheerily. "You go down- +country. Khana get, peenikapanee get - live like a bloomin' Raja +ke marfik. That's a better bandobust than baynit get it in your +innards. Good-bye, ole man. Take care o' your beautiful figure- +'ead, an' try to look kushy." + +The men laughed and fell in for their first march, when they began +to realise that a soldier's life is not all beer and skittles. +They were much impressed with the size and bestial ferocity of the +niggers whom they had now learned to call "Paythans," and more +with the exceeding discomfort of their own surroundings. Twenty +old soldiers in the corps would have taught them how to make +themselves moderately snug at night, but they had no old soldiers, +and, as the troops on the line of march said, "they lived like +pigs." They learned the heart-breaking cussedness of camp-kitchens +and camels and the depravity of an E. P. tent and a wither-wrung +mule. They studied animalculae in water, and developed a few cases +of dysentery in their study. + +At the end of their third march they were disagreeably surprised +by the arrival in their camp of a hammered iron slug which, fired +from a steady rest at seven hundred yards, flicked out the brains +of a private seated by the fire. This robbed them of their peace +for a night, and was the beginning of a long-range fire carefully +calculated to that end. In the daytime they saw nothing except an +unpleasant puff of smoke from a crag above the line of march. At +night there were distant spurts of flame and occasional +casualties, which set the whole camp blazing into the gloom and, +occasionally, into opposite tents. Then they swore vehemently and +vowed that this was magnificent but not war. + +Indeed it was not. The Regiment could not halt for reprisals +against the sharpshooters of the country-side. Its duty was to go +forward and make connectioon with the Scotch and Goorkha troops +with which it was brigaded. The Afghans knew this, and knew too, +after their first tentative shots, that they were dealing with a +raw regiment Thereafter they devoted themselves to the task of +keeping the Fore and Aft on the strain. Not for anything would +they have taken equal liberties with a seasoned corps - with the +wicked little Goorkhas, whose delight it was to lie out in the +open on a dark night and stalk their stalkers - with the terrible +big men dressed in women's clothes, who could be heard praying to +their God in the night-watches, and whose peace of mind no amount +of "sniping" could shake - or with those vile Sikhs, who marched +so ostentatiously unprepared and who dealt out such grim reward to +those who tried to profit by that unpreparedness. This white +regiment was different - quite different. It slept like a hog, +and, like a hog, charged in every direction when it was roused. +Its sentries walked with a footfall that could be heard for a +quarter of a mile; would fire at anything that moved - even a +driven donkey - and when they had once fired, could be +scientifically "rushed " and laid out a horror and an offence +against the morning sun. Then there were camp-followers who +straggled and could be cut up without fear. Their shrieks would +disturb the white boys, and the loss of their services would +inconvenience them sorely. + +Thus, at every march, the hidden enemy became bolder and the +Regiment writhed and twisted under attacks it could not avenge. +The crowning triumph was a sudden night-rush ending in the cutting +of many tent-ropes, the collapse of the sodden canvas, and a +glorious knifing of the men who struggled and kicked below. It was +a great deed, neatly carried out, and it shook the already shaken +nerves of the Fore and Aft. All the courage that they had been +required to exercise up to this point was the "two o'clock in the +morning courage"; and, so far, they had only succeeded in shooting +their comrades and losing their sleep. + +Sullen, discontented, cold, savage, sick, with their uniforms +dulled and unclean, the Fore and Aft joined their Brigade. + +"I hear you had a tough time of it coming up," said the Brigadier. +But when he saw the hospital-sheets his face fell. + +"This is bad," said he to himself. "They're as rotten as sheep." +And aloud to the Colonel - "I'm afraid we can't spare you just +yet. We want all we have, else I should have given you ten days to +recover in." + +The Colonel winced. "On my honour, Sir," he returned, "there is +not the least necessity to think of sparing us. My men have been +rather mauled and upset without a fair return. They only want to +go in somewhere where they can see what's before them." + +"Can't say I think much of the Fore and Fit," said the Brigadier +in confidence to his Brigade-Major. "They've lost all their +soldiering, and, by the trim of them, might have marched through +the country from the other side. A more fagged-out set of men I +never put eyes on." + +"Oh, they'll improve as the work goes on. The parade gloss has +been rubbed off a little, but they'll put on field polish before +long," said the Brigade-Major. "They've been mauled, and they +don't quite understand it." + +They did not. All the hitting was on one side, and it was cruelly +hard hitting with accessories that made them sick. There was also +the real sickness that laid hold of a strong man and dragged him +howling to the grave. Worst of all, their officers knew just as +little of the country as the men themselves, and looked as if they +did. The Fore and Aft were in a thoroughly unsatisfactory +condition, but they believed that all would be well if they could +once get a fair go-in at the enemy. Pot-shots up and down the +valleys were unsatisfactory, and the bayonet never seemed to get a +chance. Perhaps it was as well, for a long-limbed Afghan with a +knife had a reach of eight feet, and could carry away lead that +would disable three Englishmen. + +The Fore and Aft would like some rifle-practice at the enemy - all +seven hundred rifles blazing together. That wish showed the mood +of the men. + +The Goorkhas walked into their camp, and in broken, barrack-room +English strove to fraternise with them: offered them pipes of +tobacco and stood them treat at the canteen. But the Fore and Aft, +not knowing much of the nature of the Goorkhas, treated them as +they would treat any other "niggers," and the little men in green +trotted back to their firm friends the Highlanders, and with many +grins confided to them: "That dam white regiment no dam use. Sulky +- ugh! Dirty - ugh! Hya, any tot for Johnny?" Whereat the +Highlanders smote the Goorkhas as to the head, and told them not +to vilify a British Regiment, and the Goorkhas grinned +cavernously, for the Highlanders were their elder brothers and +entitled to the privileges of kinship. The common soldier who +touches a Goorkha is more than likely to have his head sliced +open. + +Three days later the Brigadier arranged a battle according to the +rules of war and the peculiarity of the Afghan temperament. The +enemy were massing in inconvenient strength among the hills, and +the moving of many green standards warned him that the tribes were +"up" in aid of the Afghan regular troops. A squadron and a half of +Bengal Lancers represented the available Cavalry, and two screw- +guns, borrowed from a column thirty miles away, the Artillery at +the General's disposal. + +"If they stand, as I've a very strong notion that they will, I +fancy we shall see an infantry fight that will be worth watching," +said the Brigadier. "We'll do it in style. Each regiment shall be +played into action by its Band, and we'll hold the Cavalry in +reserve." + +"For all the reserve?" somebody asked. + +"For all the reserve; because we're going to crumple them up," +said the Brigadier, who was an extraordinary Brigadier, and did +not believe in the value of a reserve when dealing with Asiatics. +Indeed, when you come to think of it, had the British Army +consistently waited for reserves in all its little affairs, the +boundaries of Our Empire would have stopped at Brighton beach. + +The battle was to be a glorious battle. + +The three regiments debouching from three separate gorges, after +duly crowning the heights above, were to converge from the centre, +left, and right upon what we will call the Afghan army, then +stationed towards the lower extremity of a flat-bottomed valley. +Thus it will be seen that three sides of the valley practically +belonged to the English, while the fourth was strictly Afghan +property. In the event of defeat the Afghans had the rocky hills +to fly to, where the fire from the guerrilla tribes in aid would +cover their retreat. In the event of victory these same tribes +would rush down and lend their weight to the rout of the British. + +The screw-guns were to shell the head of each Afghan rush that was +made in close formation, and the Cavalry, held in reserve in the +right valley, were to gently stimulate the break-up which would +follow on the combined attack. The Brigadier, sitting upon a rock +overlooking the valley, would watch the battle unrolled at his +feet. The Fore and Aft would debouch from the central gorge, the +Goorkhas from the left, and the Highlanders from the right, for +the reason that the left flank of the enemy seemed as though it +required the most hammering. It was not every day that an Afghan +force would take ground in the open, and the Brigadier was +resolved to make the most of it. + +"If we only had a few more men," he said plaintively, "we could +surround the creatures and crumple 'em up thoroughly. As it is, +I'm afraid we can only cut them up as they run. It's a great +pity." + +The Fore and Aft had enjoyed unbroken peace for five days, and +were beginning, in spite of dysentery, to recover their nerve. But +they were not happy, for they did not know the work in hand, and +had they known, would not have known how to do it. Throughout +those five days in which old soldiers might have taught them the +craft of the game, they discussed together their misadventures in +the past - how such an one was alive at dawn and dead ere the +dusk, and with what shrieks and struggles such another had given +up his soul under the Afghan knife. Death was a new and horrible +thing to the sons of mechanics who were used to die decently of +zymotic disease; and their careful conservation in barracks had +done nothing to make them look upon it with less dread. + +Very early in the dawn the bugles began to blow, and the Fore and +Aft, filled with a misguided enthusiasm, turned out without +waiting for a cup of coffee and a biscuit; and were rewarded by +being kept under arms in the cold while the other regiments +leisurely prepared for the fray. All the world knows that it is +ill taking the breeks off a Highlander. It is much iller to try to +make him stir unless he is convinced of the necessity for haste. +507 +The Fore and Aft waited, leaning upon their rifles and listening +to the protests of their empty stomachs. The Colonel did his best +to remedy the default of lining as soon as it was borne in upon +him that the affair would not begin at once, and so well did he +succeed that the coffee was just ready when - the men moved off, +their Band leading. Even then there had been a mistake in time, +and the Fore and Aft came out into the valley ten minutes before +the proper hour. Their Band wheeled to the right after reaching +the open, and retired behind a little rocky knoll still playing +while the Regiment went past. + +It was not a pleasant sight that opened on the uninstructed view, +for the lower end of the valley appeared to be filled by an army +in position - real and actual regiments attired in red coats, and +- of this there was no doubt - firing Martini-Henry bullets which +cut up the ground a hundred yards in front of the leading company. +Over that pock-marked ground the Regiment had to pass, and it +opened the ball with a general and profound courtesy to the piping +pickets; ducking in perfect time, as though it had been brazed on +a rod. Being half capable of thinking for itself, it fired a +volley by the simple process of pitching its rifle into its +shoulder and pulling the trigger. The bullets may have accounted +for some of the watchers on the hill side, but they certainly did +not affect the mass of enemy in front, while the noise of the +rifles drowned any orders that might have been given. + +"Good God!" said the Brigadier, sitting on the rock high above +all. "That Regiment has spoilt the whole show. Hurry up the +others, and let the screw-guns get off." + +But the screw-guns, in working round the heights, had stumbled +upon a wasp's nest of a small mud fort which they incontinently +shelled at eight hundred yards, to the huge discomfort of the +occupants, who were unaccustomed to weapons of such devilish +precision. + +The Fore and Aft continued to go forward, but with shortened +stride. Where were the other regiments, and why did these niggers +use Martinis? They took open order instinctively, lying down and +firing at random, rushing a few paces forward and lying down +again, according to the regulations. Once in this formation, each +man felt himself desperately alone, and edged in towards his +fellow for comfort's sake. + +Then the crack of his neighbor's rifle at his ear led him to fire +as rapidly as he could - again for the sake of the comfort of the +noise. The reward was not long delayed. Five volleys plunged the +files in banked smoke impenetrable to the eye, and the bullets +began to take ground twenty or thirty yards in front of the +firers, as the weight of the bayonet dragged down and to the right +arms wearied with holding the kick of the leaping Martini. The +Company Commanders peered helplessly through the smoke, the more +nervous mechanically trying to fan it away with their helmets. + +"High and to the left!" bawled a Captain till he was hoarse. "No +good! Cease firing, and let it drift away a bit." + +Three and four times the bugles shrieked the order, and when it +was obeyed the Fore and Aft looked that their foe should be lying +before them in mown swaths of men. A light wind drove the smoke to +leeward, and showed the enemy still in position and apparently +unaffected. A quarter of a ton of lead had been buried a furlong +in front of them, as the ragged earth attested. + +That was not demoralizing to the Afghans, who have not European +nerves. They were waiting for the mad riot to die down, and were +firing quietly into the heart of the smoke. A private of the Fore +and Aft spun up his company shrieking with agony, another was +kicking the earth and gasping, and a third, ripped through the +lower intestines by a jagged bullet, was calling aloud on his +comrades to put him out of his pain. These were the casualties, +and they were not soothing to hear or see. The smoke cleared to a +dull haze. + +Then the foe began to shout with a great shouting, and a mass - a +black mass - detached itself from the main body, and rolled over +the ground at horrid speed. It was composed of, perhaps, three +hundred men, who would shout and fire and slash if the rush of +their fifty comrades who were determined to die carried home. The +fifty were Ghazis, half maddened with drugs and wholly mad with +religious fanaticism. When they rushed the British fire ceased, +and in the lull the order was given to close ranks and meet them +with the bayonet. + +Any one who knew the business could have told the Fore and Aft +that the only way of dealing with a Ghazi rush is by volleys at +long ranges; because a man who means to die, who desires to die, +who will gain heaven by dying, must, in nine cases out of ten, +kill a man who has a lingering prejudice in favour of life. Where +they should have closed and gone forward, the Fore and Aft opened +out and skirmished, and where they should have opened out and +fired, they closed and waited. + +A man dragged from his blankets half awake and unfed is never in a +pleasant frame of mind. Nor does his happiness increase when he +watches the whites of the eyes of three hundred six-foot fiends +upon whose beards the foam is lying, upon +whose tongues is a roar of wrath, and in whose hands are yard-long +knives. + +The Fore and Aft heard the Goorkha bugles bringing that regiment +forward at the double, while the neighing of the Highland pipes +came from the left. They strove to stay where they were, though +the bayonets wavered down the line like the oars of a ragged boat. +Then they felt body to body the amazing physical strength of their +foes; a shriek of pain ended the rush, and the knives fell amid +scenes not to be told. The men clubbed together and smote blindly +- as often as not at their own fellows. Their front crumpled like +paper, and the fifty Ghazis passed on; their backers, now drunk +with success, fighting as madly as they. + +Then the rear ranks were bidden to close up, and the subalterns +dashed into the stew - alone. For the rear-ranks had heard the +clamour in front, the yells and the howls of pain, and had seen +the dark stale blood that makes afraid. They were not going to +stay. It was the rushing of the camps over again. Let their +officers go to Hell, if they chose; they would get away from the +knives. + +"Come on!" shrieked the subalterns, and their men, cursing them, +drew back, each closing in to his neighbour and wheeling round. + +Charteris and Devlin, subalterns of the last company, faced their +death alone in the belief that their men would follow. + +"You've killed me, you cowards," sobbed Devlin and dropped, cut +from the shoulder-strap to the centre of the chest; and a fresh +detachment of his men retreating, always retreating, trampled him +under foot as they made for the pass whence they had emerged. + +I kissed her in the kitchen and I kissed her in the hall +Child'un, child'un, follow me! +Oh Golly, said the cook, is he gwine to kiss us all? +Halla - Halla - Halla - Hallelujah! + +The Goorkhas were pouring through the left gorge and over the +heights at the double to the invitation of their Regimental Quick- +step. The black rocks were crowned with dark green spiders as the +bugles gave tongue jubilantly: - + +In the morning! In the morning by the bright light! +When Gabriel blows his trumpet in the morning! + +The Goorkha rear companies tripped and blundered over loose +stones. The front files halted for a moment to take stock of the +valley and to settle stray boot-laces. Then a happy little sigh of +contentment soughed down the ranks, and it was as though the land +smiled, for behold there below was the enemy, and it was to meet +them that the Goorkhas had doubled so hastily. There was much +enemy. There would be amusement. The little men hitched their +kukris well to hand, and gaped expectantly at their officers as +terriers grin ere the stone is cast for them to fetch. The +Goorkhas' ground sloped downward to the valley, and they enjoyed a +fair view of the proceedings. They sat upon the boulders to watch, +for their officers were not going to waste their wind in assisting +to repulse a Ghazi rush more than half a mile away. Let the white +men look to their own front. + +"Hi! yi !" said the Subadar-Major, who was sweating profusely. +"Dam fools yonder, stand close order! This is no time for close +order, it is the time for volleys. Ugh!" + +Horrified, amused, and indignant, the Goorkhas beheld the +retirement of the Fore and Aft with a running chorus of oaths and +commentaries. + +"They run! The white men run! Colonel Sahib, may we also do a +little running?" murmured Runbir Thappa, the Senior Jemadar. + +But the Colonel would have none of it. "Let the beggars be cut up +a little," said he wrathfully. "Serves 'em right. They'll be +prodded into facing round in a minute." He looked through his +field-glasses, and caught the glint of an officer's sword. + +"Beating 'em with the flat - damned conscripts! How the Ghazis are +walking into them!" said he. + +The Fore and Aft, heading back, bore with them their officers. The +narrowness of the pass forced the mob into solid formation, and +the rear ranks delivered some sort of a wavering volley. The +Ghazis drew off, for they did not know what reserve the gorge +might hide. Moreover, it was never wise to chase white men too +far. They returned as wolves return to cover, satisfied with the +slaughter that they had done, and only stopping to slash at the +wounded on the ground. A quarter of a mile had the Fore and Aft +retreated, and now, jammed in the pass, was quivering with pain, +shaken and demoralised with fear, while the officers, maddened +beyond control, smote the men with the hilts and the flats of +their swords. + +"Get back! Get back, you cowards - you women! Right about face - +column of companies, form - you hounds!" shouted the Colonel, and +the subalterns swore aloud. But the Regiment wanted to go - to go +anywhere out of the range of those merciless knives. It swayed to +and fro irresolutely with shouts and outcries, while from the +right the Goorkhas dropped volley after volley of cripple-stopper +Snider bullets at long range into the mob of the Ghazis returning +to their own troops. + +The Fore and Aft Band, though protected from direct fire by the +rocky knoll under which it had sat down, fled at the first rush. +Jakin and Lew would have fled also, but their short legs left them +fifty yards in the rear, and by the time the Band had mixed with +the Regiment, they were painfully aware that they would have to +close in alone and unsupported. + +"Get back to that rock," gasped Jakin. "They won't see us there." + +And they returned to the scattered instruments of the Band, their +hearts nearly bursting their ribs. + +"Here's a nice show for us," said Jakin, throwing himself full +length on the ground. "A bloomin' fine show for British Infantry! +Oh, the devils! They've gone and left us alone here! Wot'll we +do?" + +Lew took possession of a cast-off water-bottle, which naturally +was full of canteen rum, and drank till he coughed again. + +"Drink," said he shortly. "They'll come back in a minute or two - +you see." + +Jakin drank, but there was no sign of the Regiment's return. They +could hear a dull clamour from the head of the valley of retreat, +and saw the Ghazis slink back, quickening their pace as the +Goorkhas fired at them. + +"We're all that's left of the Band, an' we'll be cut up as sure as +death," said Jakin. + +"I'll die game, then," said Lew thickly, fumbling with his tiny +drummer's sword. The drink was working on his brain as it was on +Jakin's. + +"'Old on! I know something better than fightin'," said Jakin, +stung by the splendour of a sudden thought due chiefly to rum. +"Tip our bloomin' cowards yonder the word to come back. The +Paythan beggars are well away. Come on, +Lew! We won't get hurt. Take the fife an' give me the drum. The +Old Step for all your bloomin' guts are worth! There's a few of +our men coming back now. Stand up, ye drunken little defaulter. By +your right - quick march!" + +He slipped the drum-sling over his shoulder, thrust the fife into +Lew's hand, and the two boys marched out of the cover of the rock +into the open, making a hideous hash of the first bars of the +"British Grenadiers." + +As Lew had said, a few of the Fore and Aft were coming back +sullenly and shamefacedly under the stimulus of blows and abuse; +their red coats shone at the head of the valley, and behind them +were wavering bayonets. But between this shattered line and the +enemy, who with Afghan suspicion feared that the hasty retreat +meant an ambush, and had not moved therefore, lay half a mile of +level ground dotted only by the wounded. + +The tune settled into full swing and the boys kept shoulder to +shoulder, Jakin banging the drum as one possessed. The one fife +made a thin and pitiful squeaking, but the tune carried far, even +to the Goorkhas. + +"Come on, you dogs!" muttered Jakin to himself. "Are we to play +forhever?" Lew was staring straight in front of him and marching +more stiffly than ever he had done on parade. + +And in bitter mockery of the distant mob, the old tune of the Old +Line shrilled and rattled: - +Some talk of Alexander, +And some of Hercules; +Of Hector and Lysander, +And such great names as these! + +There was a far-off clapping of hands from the Goorkhas, and a +roar from the Highlanders in the distance, but never a shot was +fired by British or Afghan. The two little red dots moved forward +in the open parallel to the enemy's front. + +But of all the world's great heroes +There's none that can compare, +With a tow-row-row-row-row-row, +To the British Grenadier! + +The men of the Fore and Aft were gathering thick at the entrance +into the plain. The Brigadier on the heights far above was +speechless with rage. Still no movement from the enemy. The day +stayed to watch the children. + +Jakin halted and beat the long roll of the Assembly, while the +fife squealed despairingly. + +"Right about face! Hold up, Lew, you're drunk," said Jakin. They +wheeled and marched back: - + +hose heroes of antiquity +Ne'er saw a cannon-ball, +Nor knew the force o' powder, + +"Here they come!" said Jakin. "Go on, Lew": - + +To scare their foes withal! + +The Fore and Aft were pouring out of the valley. What officers had +said to men in that time of shame and humiliation will never be +known; for neither officers nor men speak of it now. + +"They are coming anew!" shouted a priest among the Afghans. "Do +not kill the boys! Take them alive, and they shall be of our +faith." + +But the first volley had been fired, and Lew dropped on his face. +Jakin stood for a minute, spun round and collapsed, as the Fore +and Aft came forward, the curses of their officers in their ears, +and in their hearts the shame of open shame. + + Half the men had seen the drummers die, and they made no +sign. They did not even shout. They doubled out straight across +the plain in open order, and they did not fire. + +"This," said the Colonel of Goorkhas, softly, "is the real attack, +as it should have been delivered. Come on, my children." + +"Ulu-lu-lu-lu!" squealed the Goorkhas, and came down with a joyful +clicking of kukris - those vicious Goorkha knives. + +On the right there was no rush. The Highlanders, cannily +commending their souls to God (for it matters as much to a dead +man whether he has been shot in a Border scuffle or at Waterloo), +opened out and fired according to their custom, that is to say +without heat and without intervals, while the screw-guns, having +disposed of the impertinent mud fort aforementioned, dropped shell +after shell into the clusters round the flickering green standards +on the heights. + +"Charrging is an unfortunate necessity," murmured the Colour- +Sergeant of the right company of the Highlanders. "It makes the +men sweer so, but I am thinkin' that it will come to a charrge if +these black devils stand much longer. Stewarrt, man, you're firing +into the eye of the sun, and he'll not take any harm for +Government ammuneetion. A foot lower and a great deal slower! What +are the English doing? They're very quiet, there in the center. +Running again?" + +The English were not running. They were hacking and hewing and +stabbing, for though one white man is seldom physically a match +for an Afghan in a sheepskin or wadded coat, yet, through the +pressure of many white men behind, and a certain thirst for +revenge in his heart, he becomes capable of doing much with both +ends of his rifle. The Fore and Aft held their fire till one +bullet could drive through five or six men, and the front of the +Afghan force gave on the volley. They then selected their men, and +slew them with deep gasps and short hacking coughs, and groanings +of leather belts against strained bodies, and realised for the +first time that an Afghan attacked is far less formidable than an +Afghan attacking; which fact old soldiers might have told them. + +But they had no old soldiers in their ranks. + +The Goorkhas' stall at the bazar was the noisiest, for the men +were engaged - to a nasty noise as of beef being cut on the block +- with the kukri, which they preferred to the bayonet; well +knowing how the Afghan hates the half-moon blade. + +As the Afghans wavered, the green standards on the mountain moved +down to assist them in a last rally. This was unwise. The Lancers, +chafing in the right gorge, had thrice despatched their only +subaltern as galloper to report on the progress of affairs. On the +third occasion he returned, with a bullet-graze on his knee, +swearing strange oaths in Hindustani, and saying that all things +were ready. So that squadron swung round the right of the +Highlanders with a wicked whistling of wind in the pennons of its +lances, and fell upon the remnant just when, according to all the +rules of war, it should have waited for the foe to show more signs +of wavering. + +But it was a dainty charge, deftly delivered, and it ended by the +Cavalry finding itself at the head of the pass by which the +Afghans intended to retreat; and down the track that the lances +had made streamed two companies of the Highlanders, which was +never intended by the Brigadier. The new development was +successful. It detached the enemy from his base as a sponge is +torn from a rock, and left him ringed about with fire in that +pitiless plain. And as a sponge is chased round the bath-tub by +the hand of the bather, so were the Afghans chased till they broke +into little detachments much more difficult to dispose of than +large masses. + +"See!" quoth the Brigadier. "Everything has come as I arranged. +We've cut their base, and now we'll bucket 'em to pieces." + +A direct hammering was all that the Brigadier had dared to hope +for, considering the size of the force at his disposal; but men +who stand or fall by the errors of their opponents may be forgiven +for turning Chance into Design. The bucketing went forward +merrily. The Afghan forces were upon the run - the run of wearied +wolves who snarl and bite over their shoulders. The red lances +dipped by twos and threes, and, with a shriek, uprose the lance- +butt, like a spar on a stormy sea, as the trooper cantering +forward cleared his point. The Lancers kept between their prey and +the steep hills, for all who could were trying to escape from the +valley of death. The Highlanders gave the fugitives two hundred +yards' law, and then brought them down, gasping and choking ere +they could reach the protection of the boulders above. The +Goorkhas followed suit; but the Fore and Aft were killing on their +own account, for they had penned a mass of men between their +bayonets and a wall of rock, and the flash of the rifles was +lighting the wadded coats. + +"We cannot hold them, Captain Sahib!" panted a Ressaidar of +Lancers. "Let us try the carbine. The lance is good, but it wastes +time." + +They tried the carbine, and still the enemy melted away - fled up +the hills by hundreds when there were only twenty bullets to stop +them. On the heights the screw-guns ceased firing - they had run +out of ammunition - and the Brigadier groaned, for the musketry +fire could not sufficiently smash the retreat. Long before the +last volleys were fired, the doolies were out in force looking for +the wounded. The battle was over, and, but for want of fresh +troops, the Afghans would have been wiped off the earth. As it +was, they counted their dead by hundreds, and nowhere were the +dead thicker than in the track of the Fore and Aft. + +But the Regiment did not cheer with the Highlanders, nor did they +dance uncouth dances with the Goorkhas among the dead. They looked +under their brows at the Colonel as they leaned upon their rifles +and panted. + +"Get back to camp, you. Haven't you disgraced yourself enough for +one day! Go and look to the wounded. It's all you're fit for," +said the Colonel. Yet for the past hour the Fore and Aft had been +doing all that mortal commander could expect. They had lost +heavily because they did not know how to set about their business +with proper skill, but they had borne themselves gallantly, and +this was their reward. + +A young and sprightly Colour-Sergeant, who had begun to imagine +himself a hero, offered his water-bottle to a Highlander whose +tongue was black with thirst. "I drink with no cowards," answered +the youngster huskily, and, turning to a Goorkha, said, "Hya, +Johnny! Drink water got it?" The Goorkha grinned and passed his +bottle. The Fore and Aft said no word. + +They went back to camp when the field of strife had been a little +mopped up and made presentable, and the Brigadier, who saw himself +a Knight in three months, was the only soul who was complimentary +to them. The Colonel was heartbroken, and the officers were savage +and sullen. + +"Well," said the Brigadier, "they are young troops, of course, and +it was not unnatural that they should retire in disorder for a +bit." + +"Oh, my only Aunt Maria ! " murmured a junior Staff Officer. +"Retire in disorder! It was a bally run!" + +"But they came again, as we all know," cooed the Brigadier, the +Colonel's ashy-white face before him, "and they behaved as well as +could possibly be expected. Behaved beautifully, indeed. I was +watching them. It's not a matter to take to heart, Colonel. As +some German General said of his men, they wanted to be shooted +over a little, that was all." To himself he said - "Now they're +blooded I can give 'em responsible work. It's as well that they +got what they did. 'Teach 'em more than half a dozen rifle +flirtations, that will - later - run alone and bite. Poor old +Colonel, though." + +All that afternoon the heliograph winked and flickered on the +hills, striving to tell the good news to a mountain forty miles +away And in the evening there arrived, dusty, sweating, and sore, +a misguided Correspondent who had gone out to assist at a trumpery +village-burning, and who had read off the message from afar, +cursing his luck the while. + +"Let's have the details somehow - as full as ever you can, please. +It's the first time I've ever been left this campaign," said the +Correspondent to the Brigadier; and the Brigadier, nothing loth, +told him how an Army of Communication had been crumpled up, +destroyed, and all but annihilated by the craft, strategy, wisdom, +and foresight of the Brigadier. + +But some say, and among these be the Goorkhas who watched on the +hillside, that that battle was won by Jakin and Lew, whose little +bodies were borne up just in time to fit two gaps at the head of +the big ditch-grave for the dead under the heights of Jagai. + + + +JUDSON AND THE EMPIRE + +Gloriana! The Don may attack us +Whenever his stomach be fain; +He must reach us before he can rack us . . . +And where are the galleons of Spain? + +Dobson. + + +One of the many beauties of a democracy is its almost superhuman +skill in developing troubles with other countries and finding its +honour abraded in the process. A true democracy has a large +contempt for all other lands that are governed by Kings and Queens +and Emperors, and knows little and thinks less of their internal +affairs. All it regards is its own dignity, which is its King, +Queen, and Knave. So, sooner or later, an international difference +ends in the common people, who have no dignity, shouting the +common abuse of the street, which also has no dignity, across the +seas in order to vindicate their own dignity. The consequences may +or may not be war, but the chances do not favour peace. + +An advantage in living in a civilised land which is really +governed lies in the fact that all the Kings and Queens and +Emperors of the continent are closely related by blood or marriage +- are, in fact, one large family. A wise head of them knows that +what appears to be a studied insult may be no more than some man's +indigestion or woman's indisposition to be treated as such, and +explained in quiet talk. Again, a popular demonstration, headed by +King and Court, may mean nothing more than that so-and-so's people +are out of hand for the minute. When a horse falls to kicking in a +hunt-crowd at a gate, the rider does not dismount, but puts his +open hand behind him, and the others draw aside. It is so with the +rulers of men. In the old days they cured their own and their +people's bad temper with fire and slaughter; but now that the fire +is so long of range and the slaughter so large, they do other +things, and few among their people guess how much they owe in mere +life and money to what the slang of the minute calls "puppets" and +"luxuries." + +Once upon a time there was a little Power, the half-bankrupt wreck +of a once great empire, that lost its temper with England, the +whipping-boy of all the world, and behaved, as every one knows, +most scandalously. But it is not generally known that that Power +fought a pitched battle with England and won a glorious victory. +The trouble began with the people. Their own misfortunes had been +many, and for private rage it is always refreshing to find a vent +in public swearing. Their national vanity had been deeply injured, +and they thought of their ancient glories and the days when their +fleets had first rounded the Cape of Storms, and their own +newspapers called upon Camoens and urged them to extravagances. It +was the gross, smooth, sleek, lying England that was checking +their career of colonial expansion. They assumed at once that +their ruler was in league with that country, and consequently +they, his people, would forthwith become a Republic and colonially +expand themselves as a free people should. This made plain, the +people threw stones at the English Consuls and spat at English +ladies, and cut off drunken sailors of our fleet in their ports +and hammered them with oars, and made things very unpleasant for +tourists at their customs, and threatened awful deaths to the +consumptive invalids at Madeira, while the junior officers of the +Army drank fruit-extracts and entered into blood-curdling +conspiracies against their monarch, all with the object of being a +Republic. Now the history of all the South American Republics +shows that it is not good that Southern Europeans should be also +Republicans. They glide too quickly into military despotism; and +the propping of men against walls and shooting them in detachments +can be arranged much more economically and with less effect on the +death-rate by a hide-bound monarchy. Still the performances of the +Power as represented by its people were extremely inconvenient. It +was the kicking horse in the crowd, and probably the rider +explained that he could not check it. The people enjoyed all the +glory of war with none of the risks, and the tourists who were +stoned in their travels returned stolidly to England and told the +"Times" that the police arrangements of foreign towns were +defective. + +This then was the state of affairs north of the Line. South it was +more strained, for there the Powers were at direct issue: England, +unable to go back because of the pressure of adventurous children +behind her, and the actions of far-away adventurers who would not +come to heel, but offering to buy out her rival; and the other +Power, lacking men or money, stiff in the conviction that three +hundred years of slave-holding and intermingling with the nearest +natives gave an inalienable right to hold slaves and issue half- +castes to all eternity. They had built no roads. Their towns were +rotting under their hands; they had no trade worth the freight of +a crazy steamer, and their sovereignty ran almost one musket-shot +inland when things were peaceful. For these very reasons they +raged all the more, and the things that they said and wrote about +the manners and customs of the English would have driven a younger +nation to the guns with a long red bill for wounded honour. + +It was then that Fate sent down in a twin-screw shallow-draft +gunboat, designed for the defence of rivers, of some two hundred +and seventy tons' displacement, Lieutenant Harrison Edward Judson, +to be known for the future as Bai-Jove-Judson. His type of craft +looked exactly like a flat-iron with a match stuck up in the +middle; it drew five feet of water or less, carried a four-inch +gun forward, which was trained by the ship, and, on account of its +persistent rolling, was to live in three degrees worse than a +torpedo-boat. When Judson was appointed to take charge of the +thing on her little trip of six or seven thousand miles southward, +his first remark as he went to look her over in dock was, "Bai +Jove, that topmast wants staying forward!" The topmast was a stick +about as thick as a clothes-prop, but the flat-iron was Judson's +first command, and he would not have exchanged his position for +second post on the "Anson" or the "Howe". He navigated her, under +convoy, tenderly and lovingly to the Cape (the story of the +topmast came with him), and he was so absurdly in love with his +wallowing wash-tub when he reported himself, that the Admiral of +the station thought it would be a pity to kill a new man on her, +and allowed Judson to continue in his unenvied rule. + +The Admiral visited her once in Simon's Bay, and she was bad, even +for a flat-iron gunboat strictly designed for river and harbour +defence. She sweated clammy drops of dew between decks in spite of +a preparation of powdered cork that was sprinkled over her inside +paint. She rolled in the long Cape swell like a buoy; her foc's'le +was a dog-kennel; Judson's cabin was practically under the water- +line; not one of her dead-bights could ever be opened; and her +compasses, thanks to the influence of the four-inch gun, were a +curiosity even among Admiralty compasses. But Bai-Jove-Judson was +radiant and enthusiastic. He had even contrived to fill Mr. +Davies, the second-class engine-room artificer, who was his chief +engineer, with the glow of his passion. The Admiral, who +remembered his own first command, when pride forbade him to +slacken off a single rope on a dewy night, and he had racked his +rigging to pieces in consequence, looked at the flat-iron keenly. +Her fenders were done all over with white sennit which was truly +white; her big gun was varnished with a better composition than +the Admiralty allowed; the spare sights were cased as carefully as +the chronometers; the chocks for spare spars, two of them, were +made of four-inch Burma teak carved with dragons' heads that was +one result of Bai-Jove-Judson's experiences with the Naval Brigade +in the Burmese war; the bow-anchor was varnished instead of being +painted, and there were charts more than the Admiralty scale +supplied. The Admiral was well pleased, for he loved a ship's +husband - a man who had a little money of his own and was willing +to spend it on his command. Judson looked at him hopefully. He was +only a Junior Navigating Lieutenant under eight years' standing. +He might be kept in Simon's Bay for six months, and his ship at +sea was his delight. The dream of his heart was to enliven her +dismal official gray with a line of gold-leaf and perhaps a little +scroll-work +at her blunt barge-like bows. + +"There's nothing like a first command, is there?" said the +Admiral, reading his thoughts. "You seem to have rather queer +compasses, though. Better get them adjusted." + +"It's no use, sir," said Judson. "The gun would throw out the Pole +itself. But - but I've got the hang of most of their weaknesses." + +"Will you be good enough to lay that gun over thirty degrees, +please?" The gun was put over. Round and round and round went the +needle merrily, and the Admiral whistled. + +"You must have kept close to your convoy?" + +"Saw her twice between here and Madeira, sir," said Judson with a +flush, for he resented the slur on his seamanship. " It's - it's a +little out of hand, now, but she'll settle down after a while." + +The Admiral went over the side, according to the rules of the +Service, but the Staff-Captain must have told the other men of the +squadron in Simon's Bay, for they one and all made light of the +flat-iron for many days. "What can you shake out of her, Judson?" +said the Lieutenant of the "Mongoose", a real white-painted, ram- +bow gunboat with quick-firing guns, as he came into the upper +verandah of the little naval Club overlooking the dockyard one hot +afternoon. It is in that Club as the captains come and go that you +hear all the gossip of all the Seven Seas. + +"Ten point four," said Bai-Jove-Judson. + +"Ah! That was on her trial trip. She's too deep by the head now. I +told you staying that topmast would throw her out of trim." + +"You leave my top-hamper alone," said Judson, for the joke was +beginning to pall on him. + +"Oh, my soul! Listen to him. Juddy's top-hamper! Keate, have you +heard of the flat-iron's top-hamper? You're to leave it alone. +Commodore Judson's feelings are hurt." + +Keate was the Torpedo Lieutenant of the big "Vortigern", and he +despised small things. "His top-hamper," said he slowly. "Oh, ah +yes, of course. Juddy, there's a shoal of mullet in the bay, and I +think they're foul of your screws. Better go down, or they'll +carry away something." + +"I don't let things carry away as a rule. You see I've no Torpedo +Lieutenant on board, thank God!" + +Keate within the past week had so managed to bungle the slinging +in of a small torpedo-boat on the "Vortigern", that the boat had +broken the crutches in which she rested, and was herself being +repaired in the dockyard under the Club windows. + +"One for you, Keate. Never mind, Juddy; you're hereby appointed +dockyard-tender for the next three years, and if you're very good +and there's no sea on, you shall take me round the harbour. +Waitabeechee, Commodore. What'll you take? Vanderhum for the 'Cook +and the captain bold, And the mate o' the Nancy brig, And the +bo'sun tight' (Juddy, put that cue down or I'll put you under +arrest for insulting the lieutenant of the real ship) 'And the +midshipmite, And the crew of the captain's gig." + +By this time Judson had pinned him in a corner, and was prodding +him with the half-butt. The Admiral's Secretary entered, and saw +the scuffle from afar. + +"Ouch! Juddy, I apologise. Take that - er topmast of yours away! +Here's the man with the bow-string. I wish I were a staff-captain +instead of a bloody lootenant. Sperril sleeps below every night. +That's what makes Sperril tumble home from the waist uppards. +Sperril, I defy you to touch me. I'm under orders for Zanzibar. +Probably I shall annex it!" + +"Judson, the Admiral wants to see you!" said the Staff-Captain, +disregarding the scoffer of the "Mongoose". + +"I told you you'd be a dockyard-tender yet, Juddy. A side of fresh +beef to-morrow and three dozen snapper on ice. On ice, you +understand, Juddy?" + +Bai-Jove-Judson and the Staff-Captain went out together. + +"Now, what does the Admiral want with Judson?" said Keate from the +bar. + +"Don't know. Juddy's a damned good fellow, though. I wish to +goodness he was on the Mongoose with us." + +The Lieutenant of the "Mongoose" dropped into a chair and read the +mail papers for an hour. Then he saw Bai-Jove-Judson in the street +and shouted to him. Judson's eyes were very bright, and his figure +was held very straight, and he moved joyously. Except for the +Lieutenant of the "Mongoose", the Club was empty. + +"Juddy, there will be a beautiful row," said that young man when +he had heard the news delivered in an undertone. "You'll probably +have to fight, and yet I can't see what the Admiral's thinking of +to -" + +"My orders are not to fight under any circumstances," said Judson. + +"Go-look-see? That all? When do you go?" + +"To-night if I can. I must go down and see about things. I say, I +may want a few men for the day." + +"Anything on the "Mongoose" is at your service. There's my gig +come in now. I know that coast, dead, drunk, or asleep, and you'll +need all the knowledge you can get. If it had only been us two +together! Come over with me!" + +For one whole hour Judson remained closeted in the stern cabin of +the "Mongoose", listening, poring over chart upon chart and taking +notes, and for an hour the marine at the door heard nothing but +things like these: "Now you'll have to put in here if there's any +sea on. That current is ridiculously under-estimated, and it sets +west at this season of the year, remember. Their boats never come +south of this, see? So it's no good looking out for them." And so +on and so forth, while Judson lay at length on the locker by the +three-pounder, and smoked and absorbed it all. + +Next morning there was no flat-iron in Simon's Bay, only a little +smudge of smoke off Cape Hangklip to show that Mr. Davies, the +second-class engine-room artificer, was giving her all she could +carry. At the Admiral's house, the ancient and retired bo'sun, who +had seen many Admirals come and go, brought out his paint and +brushes and gave a new coat of pure raw pea-green to the two big +cannon-balls that stood one on each side of the Admiral's +entrance-gate. He felt dimly that great events were stirring. + +And the flat-iron, constructed, as has been before said, solely +for the defense of rivers, met the great roll off Cape Agulhas and +was swept from end to end and sat upon her twin-screws and leaped +as gracefully as a cow in a bog from one sea to another, till Mr. +Davies began to fear for the safety of his engines, and the Kroo +boys that made the majority of the crew were deathly sick. She ran +along a very badly-lighted coast, past bays that were no bays, +where ugly flat-topped rocks lay almost level with the water, and +very many extraordinary things happened that have nothing to do +with the story, but they were all duly logged by Bai-Jove-Judson. + +At last the coast changed and grew green and low and exceedingly +muddy, and there were broad rivers whose bars were little islands +standing three or four miles out at sea, and Bai-Jove-Judson +hugged the shore more closely than ever, remembering what the +Lieutenant of the "Mongoose" had told him. Then he found a river +full of the smell of fever and mud, with green stuff growing far +into its waters, and a current that made the flatiron gasp and +grunt. + +"We will turn up here," said Bai-Jove-Judson, and they turned up +accordingly; Mr. Davies wondering what in the world it all meant, +and the Kroo boys grinning. Bai-Jove-Judson went forward to the +bows and meditated, staring through the muddy waters. After six +hours of rooting through this desolation at an average rate of +five miles an hour, his eyes were cheered by the sight of one +white buoy in the coffee-hued mid-stream. The flat-iron crept up +to it cautiously, and a leadsman took soundings all around it from +a dinghy, while Bai-Jove-Judson smoked and thought, with his head +on one side. + +"About seven feet, isn't there?" said he. "That must be the tail +end of the shoal. There's four fathom in the fairway. Knock that +buoy down with axes. I don't think it's picturesque somehow." The +Kroo men hacked the wooden sides to pieces in three minutes, and +the mooring-chain sank with the lasst splinters of wood. Bai-Jove +Judson laid the flat-iron carefully over the site, while Mr. +Davies watched, biting his nails nervously. + +"Can you back her against this current?" said Bai-Jove-Judson. Mr. +Davies could, inch by inch, but only inch by inch, and Bai-Jove- +Judson sat in the bows and gazed at various things on the bank as +they came into line or opened out. The flatiron dropped down over +the tail of the shoal, exactly where the buoy had been, and backed +once before Bai-Jove-Judson was satisfied. Then they went up +stream for half an hour, put into shoal water by the bank and +waited, with a slip-rope on the anchor. + +"Seems to me," said Mr. Davies deferentially, "like as if I heard +some one a-firing off at intervals, so to say." + +There was beyond doubt a dull mutter in the air. "Seems to me," +said Bai-Jove-Judson, "as if I heard a screw. Stand by to slip her +moorings." + +Another ten minutes passed and the beat of engines grew plainer. +Then round the bend of the river came a remarkably prettily built +white-painted gunboat with a blue and white flag bearing a red +boss in the centre. + +"Unshackle abaft the windlass! Stream both buoys! Easy, astern. +Let go, all!" The slip-rope flew out, the two buoys bobbed in the +water to mark where anchor and cable had been left, and the flat- +iron waddled out into midstream with the white ensign at her one +mast-head. + +"Give her all you can. That thing has the legs of us," said +Judson. "And down we go!" + +"It's war - bloody war. He's going to fire," said Mr. Davies, +looking up through the engine-room hatch. + +The white gunboat without a word of explanation fired three guns +at the flat-iron, cutting the trees on the banks into green chips. +Bai-Jove-Judson was at the wheel, and Mr. Davies and the current +helped the boat to an almost respectable degree of speed. + +It was an exciting chase, but it did not last for more than five +minutes. The white gunboat fired again, and Mr. Davies in his +engine-room gave a wild shout. + +"What's the matter? Hit?" said Bai-Jove-Judson. + +"No, I've just seized of your roos-de-gare. Beg y' pardon, sir." + +"Right 0! Just the half a fraction of a point more." The wheel +turned under the steady hand, as Bai-Jove-Judson watched his marks +on the bank coming in line swiftly as troops anxious to aid. The +flat-iron smelt the shoal water under her, +checked for an instant, and went on. "Now we're over. Come along, +you thieves, there!" + +The white gunboat, too hurried even to fire, was storming in the +wake of the flat-iron, steering as she steered. This was +unfortunate, because the lighter craft was dead over the missing +buoy. + +"What you do here?" shouted a voice from the bows. + +"I'm going on. Hold tight. Now you're arranged for!" + +There was a crash and a clatter as the white gunboat's nose took +the shoal, and the brown mud boiled up in oozy circles under her +forefoot. Then the current caught her stem by the starboard side +and drove her broadside on to the shoal, slowly and gracefully. +There she heeled at an undignified angle, and her crew yelled +aloud. + +"Neat! Oh, damn neat!" quoth Mr. Davies, dancing on the engine- +room plates, while the Kroo stokers grinned. + +The flat-iron turned up-stream again, and passed under the hove-up +starboard side of the white gunboat, to be received with howls and +imprecations in a strange tongue. The stranded boat, exposed even +to her lower strakes, was as defence-less as a turtle on its back, +without the advantage of the turtle's plating. And the one big +blunt gun in the bows of the flat-iron was unpleasantly near. + +But the captain was valiant and swore mightily. Bai-Jove-Judson +took no sort of notice. His business was to go up the river. + +"We will come in a flotilla of boats and ecrazer your vile +tricks," said the captain with language that need not be +published. + +Then said Bai-Jove-Judson, who was a linguist: "You stay o where +you are o, or I'll leave a hole-o in your bottom o that will make +you much os perforatados." + +There was a great deal of mixed language in reply, but Bai-Jove- +Judson was out of hearing in a few minutes, and Mr. Davies, +himself a man of few words, confided to one of his subordinates +that Lieutenant Judson was "a most remarkable prompt officer in a +way of putting it." + +For two hours the flat-iron pawed madly through the muddy water, +and that which had been at first a mutter became a distinct +rumble. + +"Was war declared?" said Mr. Davies, and Bai-Jove-Judson laughed. +"Then, damn his eyes, he might have spoilt my pretty little +engines. There's war up there, though." + +The next bend brought them full in sight of a small but lively +village, built round a whitewashed mud house of some pretensions. +There were scores and scores of saddle-coloured soldiery on duty, +white uniforms running to and fro and +shouting round a man in a litter, and on a gentle slope that ran +inland for four or five miles something like a brisk battle was +raging round a rude stockade. A smell of unburied carcasses +floated through the air and vexed the sensitive nose of Mr. +Davies, who spat over the side. + +"I want to get this gun on that house," said Bai-Jove-Judson, +indicating the superior dwelling over whose flat roof floated the +blue and white flag. The little twin screws kicked up the water +exactly as a hen's legs kick in the dust before she settles down +to a bath. The little boat moved un easily from left to right, +backed, yawed again, went ahead, and at last the gray blunt gun's +nose +was held as straight as a rifle-barrel on the mark indicated. Then +Mr. Davies allowed the whistle to speak as it is not allowed to +speak in Her Majesty's service on account of waste of steam. The +soldiery of the village gathered into knots and groups and +bunches, and the firing up the hill ceased, and every one except +the crew of the flatiron yelled aloud. Something like an English +cheer came down wind. + +"Our chaps in mischief for sure, probably," said Mr. Davies. "They +must have declared war weeks ago, in a kind of way, seems to me." + +"Hold her steady, you son of a soldier!" shouted Bai-Jove-Judson, +as the muzzle fell off the white house. + +Something rang as loudly as a ship's bell on the forward plates of +the flat-iron, something spluttered in the water, and another +thing cut a groove in the deck planking an inch in front of Bai- +Jove-Judson's left foot. The saddle-coloured soldiery were firing +as the mood took them, and the man in the litter waved a shining +sword. The muzzle of the big gun kicked down a fraction as it was +laid on the mud wall at the bottom of the house garden. Ten pounds +of gunpowder shut up in a hundred pounds of metal was its charge. +Three or four yards of the mud wall jumped up a little, as a man +jumps when he is caught in the small of the back with a knee-cap, +and then fell forward, spreading fan-wise in the fall. The +soldiery fired no more that day, and Judson saw an old black woman +climb to the flat roof of the house. She fumbled for a time with +the flag halliards, then finding that they were jammed, took off +her one garment, which happened to be an Isabella-coloured +petticoat, and waved it impatiently. The man in the litter +flourished a white handkerchief, and Bai-Jove-Judson grinned. "Now +we'll give 'em one up the hill. Round with her, Mr. Davies. Curse +the man who invented those floating gun platforms. Where can I +pitch in a notice without slaying one of those little devils?" + +The side of the slope was speckled with men returning in a +disorderly fashion to the river front. Behind them marched a small +but very compact body of men who had filed out of the stockade. +These last dragged quick-firing guns with them. + +"Bai Jove, it's a regular army. I wonder whose," said Bai-Jove- +Judson, and he waited developments. The descending troops met and +mixed with the troops in the village, and, with the litter in the +centre, crowded down to the river, till the men with the quick- +firing guns came up behind them. Then they divided left and right +and the detachment marched through. + +"Heave these damned things over!" said the leader of the party, +and one after another ten little gatlings splashed into the muddy +water. The flatiron lay close to the bank. + +"When you're quite done," said Bai-Jove-Judson politely, "would +you mind telling me what's the matter? I'm in charge here." + +"We're the Pioneers of the General Development Company," said the +leader. "These little bounders have been hammering us in lager for +twelve hours, and we're getting rid of their gatlings. Had to +climb out and take them; but they've snaffled the lock-actions. +Glad to see you." + +"Any one hurt?" + +"No one killed exactly, but we're very dry." + +"Can you hold your men?" + +The man turned round and looked at his command with a grin. There +were seventy of them, all dusty and unkempt. + +"We sha'n't sack this ash-bin, if that's what you mean. We're +mostly gentlemen here, though we don't look it." + +"All right. Send the head of this post, or fort, or village, or +whatever it is, aboard, and make what arrangements you can for +your men." + +"We'll find some barrack accommodation somewhere. Hullo! You in +the litter there, go aboard the gunboat." The command wheeled +round, pushed through the dislocated soldiery, and began to search +through the village for spare huts. + +The little man in the litter came aboard smiling nervously. He was +in the fullest of full uniform, with many yards of gold lace and +dangling chains. Also he wore very large spurs; the nearest horse +being not more than four hundred miles away. "My children," said +he, facing the silent soldiery, "lay aside your arms." + +Most of the men had dropped them already and were sitting down to +smoke. "Let nothing," he added in his own tongue, "tempt you to +kill these who have sought your protection." + +"Now," said Bai-Jove-Judson, on whom the last remark was lost, +"will you have the goodness to explain what the deuce you mean by +all this nonsense?" + +"It was of a necessitate," said the little man. "The operations of +war are unconformible. I am the Governor and I operate Captain. +Be'old my little sword." + +"Confound your little sword, sir. I don't want it. You've fired on +our flag. You've been firing at our people here for a week, and +I've been fired at coming up the river." + +"Ah! The 'Guadala'. She have misconstrued you for a slaver +possibly. How are the 'Guadala'?" + +"Mistook a ship of Her Majesty's navy for a slaver! You mistake +any craft for a slaver! Bai Jove, sir, I've a good mind to hang +you at the yard-arm!" + +There was nothing nearer that terrible spar than the walking-stick +in the rack of Judson's cabin. The Governor looked at the one mast +and smiled a deprecating smile. + +"The position is embarrassment," he said. "Captain, do you think +those illustrious traders burn my capital? My people will give +them beer." + +"Never mind the traders, I want an explanation." + +"Hum! There are popular uprising in Europe, Captain - in my +country." His eye wandered aimlessly round the horizon. + +"What has that to do with -" + +"Captain, you are very young. There is still uproariment. But I" - +here he slapped his chest till his epaulets jingled -" I am +loyalist to pits of all my stomachs." + +"Go on," said Judson, and his mouth quivered. + +"An order arrive to me to establish a custom-houses here, and to +collect of the taximent from the traders when she are come here +necessarily. That was on account of political understandings with +your country and mine. But on that arrangement there was no money +also. Not one damn little cowrie. I desire damnably to extend all +commercial things, and why? I am loyalist and there is rebellion - +yes, I tell you - Republics in my country for to just begin. You +do not believe? See some time how it exist. I cannot make this +custom-houses and pay the so high-paid officials. The people too +in my country they say the king she has no regardance into Honour +of her nation. He throw away everything - Gladstone her all, you +say, pay?" + +"Yes, that's what we say," said Judson with a grin. + +"Therefore they say, let us be Republics on hot cakes. But I - I +am loyalist to all my hands' ends. Captain, once I was attach at +Mexico. I say the Republics are no good. The peoples have her +stomach high. They desire - they desire - a course for the bills." + +"What on earth is that?" + +"The cock-fight for pay at the gate. You give something, pay for +see bloody row. Do I make its comprehension?" + +"A run for their money - is that what you mean? Gad, you're +sporting, Governor." + +"So I say. I am loyalist, too." He smiled more easily. "Now how +can anything do herself for the customs-houses; but when the +Company's mens she arrives, then a cock-fight for pay at gate that +is quite correct. My army he says it will Republic and shoot me +off upon walls if I have not give her blood. An army, Captain, are +terrible in her angries - especialment when she are not paid. I +know, too," here he laid his hand on Judson's shoulder, "I know +too we are old friends. Yes! Badajos, Almeida, Fuentes d'Onor - +time ever since; and a little, little cock-fight for pay at gate +that is good for my king. More sit her tight on throne behind, you +see? Now," he waved his hand round the decayed village, "I say to +my armies, Fight! Fight the Company's men when she come, but fight +not so very strong that you are any deads. It is all in the +raporta that I send. But you understand, Captain, we are good +friends all the time. Ah! Ciudad Rodrigo, you remember? No? +Perhaps your father, then? So you see no one are deads, and we +fight a fight, and it is all in the raporta, to please the people +in our country, and my armies they do not put me against the +walls. You see?" + +"Yes; but the 'Guadala'. She fired on us. Was that part of your +game, my joker?" + +"The 'Guadala'. Ah! No, I think not. Her captain he is too big +fool. But I think she have gone down the coast. Those your +gunboats poke her nose and shove her oar in every place. How is +'Guadala'?" + +"On a shoal. Stuck till I take her off." +"There are any deads?" + +"No." + +The Governor drew a breath of deep relief. "There are no deads +here. So you see none are deads anywhere, and nothing is done. +Captain, you talk to the Company's mens. I think they are not +pleased." + +"Naturally." + +"They have no sense. I thought to go backwards again they would. I +leave her stockade alone all night to let them out, but they stay +and come facewards to me, not backwards. They did not know we must +conquer much in all these battles, or the king, he is kicked off +her throne. Now we have won this battle - this great battle," he +waved his arms abroad, "and I think you will say so that we have +won, Captain. You are loyalist also. You would not disturb to the +peaceful Europe? Captain, I tell you this. Your Queen she know +too. She would not fight her cousins. It is a - a hand-up thing." + +"What?" + +"Hand-up thing. Jobe you put. How you say?" + +"Put-up job?" + +"Yes. Put-up job. Who is hurt? We win. You lose. All righta?" + +Bai-Jove-Judson had been exploding at intervals for the last five +minutes. Here he broke down completely and roared aloud. + +"But look here, Governor," he said at last, "I've got to think of +other things than your riots in Europe. You've fired on our flag." + +"Captain, if you are me, you would have done how? And also, and +also," he drew himself up to his full height, "we are both brave +men of bravest countries. Our honour is the honour of our King," +here he uncovered, "and of our Queen," here he bowed low. "Now, +Captain, you shall shell my palace and I shall be your prisoner." + +"Skittles!" said Bai-Jove-Judson. "I can't shell that old +hencoop." + +"Then come to dinner. Madeira, she are still to us, and I have of +the best she manufac." + +He skipped over the side beaming, and Bai-Jove-Judson went into +the cabin to laugh his laugh out. When he had recovered a little +he sent Mr. Davies to the head of the Pioneers, the dusty man with +the gatlings, and the troops who had abandoned the pursuit of arms +watched the disgraceful spectacle of two men reeling with laughter +on the quarter-deck of a gunboat. + +"I'll put my men to build him a custom-house," said the head of +the Pioneers, gasping. "We'll make him one decent road at least. +That Governor ought to be knighted. I'm glad now that we didn't +fight 'em in the open, or we'd have killed some of them. So he's +won great battles, has he? Give him the compliments of the +victims, and tell him I'm coming to dinner. You haven't such a +thing as a dress-suit, have you? I haven't seen one for six +months." + +That evening there was a dinner in the village - a general and +enthusiastic dinner, whose head was in the Governor's house, and +whose tail threshed at large throughout all the streets. The +Madeira was everything that the Governor had said, and more, and +it was tested against two or three bottles of Bai-Jove-Judson's +best Vanderhum, which is Cape brandy ten years in the bottle, +flavoured with orange-peel and spices. Before the coffee was +removed (by the lady who had made the flag of truce) the Governor +had sold the whole of his governorship and its appurtenances, once +to Bai-Jove-Judson for services rendered by Judson's grandfather +in the Peninsular War, and once to the head of the Pioneers, in +consideration of that gentleman's good friendship. After the +negotiation he retreated for a while into an inner apartment, and +there evolved a true and complete account of the defeat of the +British arms, which he read with his cocked hat over one eye to +Judson and his companion. It was Judson who suggested the sinking +of the flat-iron with all hands, and the head of the Pioneers who +supplied the list of killed and wounded (not more than two +hundred) in his command. + +"Gentlemen," said the Governor from under his cocked hat, "the +peace of Europe are saved by this raporta. You shall all be +Knights of the Golden Hide. She shall go by the 'Guadala'." + +"Great Heavens!" said Bai-Jove Judson, flushed but composed, "that +reminds me I've left that boat stuck on her broadside down the +river. I must go down and soothe the commandante. He'll be blue +with rage. Governor, let us go a sail on the river to cool our +heads. A picnic, you understand." + +"Ya - as, everything I understand. Ho! A picnica! You are all my +prisoner, but I am good gaoler. We shall picnic on the river, and +we shall take all the girls. Come on, my prisoners." + +"I do hope," said the head of the Pioneers, staring from the +verandah into the roaring village, "that my chaps won't set the +town alight by accident. Hullo! Hullo! A guard of honour for His +Excellency the most illustrious Governor!" + +Some thirty men answered the call, made a swaying line upon a more +swaying course, and bore the Governor most swayingly of all high +in the arms as they staggered down to the river. And the song that +they sang bade them, "Swing, swing together their body between +their knees"; and they obeyed the words of the song faithfully, +except that they were anything but "steady from stroke to bow." +His Excellency the Governor slept on his uneasy litter, and did +not wake when the chorus dropped him on the deck of the flat-iron. + +"Good-night and good-bye," said the head of the Pioneers to +Judson; "I'd give you my card if I had it, but I'm so damned drunk +I hardly know my own club. Oh, yes! It's the Travellers. If ever +we meet in Town, remember me. I must stay here and look after my +fellows. We're all right in the open, now. I s'pose you'll return +the Governor some time. This is a political crisis. Good-night." + +The flat-iron went down stream through the dark. The Governor +slept on deck, and Judson took the wheel, but how he steered, and +why he did not run into each bank many times, that officer does +not remember. Mr. Davies did not note anything unusual, for there +are two ways of taking too much, and Judson was only ward-room, +not foc's'le drunk. As the night grew colder the Governor woke up, +and expressed a desire for whiskey and soda. When that came they +were nearly abreast of the stranded "Guadala", and His Excellency +saluted the flag that he could not see with loyal and patriotic +strains. + +"They do not see. They do not hear," he cried. "Ten thousand +saints! They sleep, and I have won battles! Ha!" + +He started forward to the gun, which, very naturally, was loaded, +pulled the lanyard, and woke the dead night with the roar of the +full charge behind a common shell. That shell mercifully just +missed the stern of the "Guadala", and burst on the bank. "Now you +shall salute your Governor," said he, as he heard feet running in +all directions within the iron skin. "Why you demand so base a +quarter? I am here with all my prisoners." + +In the hurly-burly and the general shriek for mercy his +reassurances were not heard. + +"Captain," said a grave voice from the ship, "we have surrendered. +Is it the custom of the English to fire on a helpless ship'?" + +Surrendered! Holy Virgin! I go to cut off all their heads. You +shall be ate by wild ants -flogged and drowned. Throw me a +balcony. It is I, the Governor! You shall never surrender. Judson +of my soul, ascend her insides, and send me a bed, for I am +sleepy; but, oh, I will multiple time kill that captain!" + +"Oh!" said the voice in the darkness, "I begin to comprehend." And +a rope-ladder was thrown, up which the Governor scrambled, with +Judson at his heels. + +"Now we will enjoy executions," said the Governor on the deck. +"All these Republicans shall be shot. Little Judson, if I am not +drunk, why are so sloping the boards which do not support?" + +The deck, as I have said, was at a very stiff cant. His Excellency +sat down, slid to leeward, and was asleep again. + +The captain of the "Guadala" bit his moustache furiously, and +muttered in his own tongue: "This land is the father of great +villains and the stepfather of honest men. You see our material, +Captain. It is so everywhere with us. You have killed some of the +rats, I hope?" + +"Not a rat," said Judson genially. + +"That is a pity. If they were dead, our country might send us men; +but our country is dead too, and I am dishonoured on a mud-bank +through your English treachery." + +"Well, it seems to me that firing on a little tub of our size +without a word of warning, when you know that the countries were +at peace, is treachery enough in a small way." + +"If one of my guns had touched you, you would have gone to the +bottom, all of you. I would have taken the risk with my +Government. By that time it would have been -" + +"A Republic? So you really did mean fighting on your own hook? +You're rather a dangerous officer to cut loose in a navy like +yours. Well, what are you going to do now?" + +"Stay here. Go away in boats. What does it matter? That drunken +cat" - he pointed to the shadow in which the Governor slept -" is +here. I must take him back to his hole." + +"Very good. I'll tow you off at daylight if you get steam ready." + +"Captain, I warn you that as soon as she floats again I will fight +you." + +"Humbug! You'll have lunch with me, and then you'll take the +Governor up the river." + +The captain was silent for some time. Then he said: "Let us drink. +What must be, must be; and after all we have not forgotten the +Peninsula. You will admit, Captain, that it is bad to be run upon +a shoal like a mud-dredger?" + +"Oh, we'll pull you off before you can say knife. Take care of His +Excellency. I shall try to get a little sleep now." + +They slept on both ships till the morning, and then the work of +towing off the "Guadala" began. With the help of her own engines, +and the tugging and puffing of the flat-iron, she slid off the +mud-bank sideways into the deep water, the flatiron immediately +under her stern, and the big eye of the four-inch gun almost +peering through the window of the captain's cabin. + +Remorse in the shape of a violent headache had overtaken the +Governor. He was uneasily conscious that he might, perhaps, have +exceeded his powers; and the captain of the "Guadala", in spite of +all his patriotic sentiments, remembered distinctly that no war +had been declared between the two countries. He did not need the +Governor's repeated reminders that war, serious war, meant a +Republic at home, possible supersession in his command, and much +shooting of living men against dead walls. + +"We have satisfied our honour," said the Governor in confidence. +"Our army is appeased, and the raporta that you take home will +show that we were loyal and brave. That other captain? Bah! he is +a boy. He will call this a - a-. Judson of my soul, how you say +this is - all this affairs which have transpirated between us?" + +Judson was watching the last hawser slipping through the fairlead. +"Call it? Oh, I should call it rather a lark. Now your boat's all +right, Captain. When will you come to lunch?" + +"I told you," said the Governor, "it would be a larque to him." + +"Mother of the Saints! then what is his seriousness?" said the +captain. "We shall be happy to come when you please. Indeed, we +have no other choice," he added bitterly. + +"Not at all," said Judson, and as he looked at the three or four +shot-blisters on the bows of his boat a brilliant idea took him. +"It is we who are at your mercy. See how His Excellency's guns +knocked us about." + +"Senior Captain," said the Governor pityingly, "that is very sad. +You are most injured, and your deck too, it is all shot over. We +shall not be too severe on a beat man, shall we, Captain?" + +"You couldn't spare us a little paint, could you? I'd like to +patch up a little after the - action," said Judson meditatively, +fingering his upper lip to hide a smile. + +"Our store-room is at your disposition," said the captain of the +"Guadala", and his eye brightened; for a few lead splashes on gray +paint make a big show. + +"Mr. Davies, go aboard and see what they have to spare - to spare, +remember. Their spar-colour with a little working up should be +just our freeboard tint." + +"Oh, yes. I'll spare them," said Mr. Davies savagely. "I don't +understand this how-d'you-do and damn-your-eyes business coming +one atop of the other in a manner o' speaking. By all rights, +they're our lawful prize." + +The Governor and the captain came to lunch in the absence of Mr. +Davies. Bai-Jove-Judson had not much to offer, but what he had was +given as by a beaten foeman to a generous conqueror. When they +were a little warmed - the Governor genial and the captain almost +effusive - he explained, quite casually, over the opening of a +bottle that it would not be to his interest to report the affair +seriously, and it was in the highest degree improbable that the +Admiral would treat it in any grave fashion. + +"When my decks are cut up" (there was one groove across four +planks), "and my plates buckled" (there were five lead patches on +three plates), "and I meet such a boat as the 'Guadala', and a +mere accident saves me from being blown out of the water -" + +"Yes. A mere accident, Captain. The shoal-buoy has been lost," +said the captain of the 'Guadala'. + +"Ah? I do not know this river. That was very sad. But as I was +saying, when an accident saves me from being sunk, what can I do +but go away - if that is possible? But I fear that I have no coal +for the sea voyage. It is very sad." Judson had compromised on +what he knew of the French tongue as a working language. + +"It is enough," said the Governor, waving a generous hand. "Judson +of my soul, the coal is yours, and you shall be repaired - yes, +repaired all over of your battle's wounds. You shall go with all +the honours of all the wars. Your flag shall fly. Your drum shall +beat. Your, ah! - jolly boys shall spoke their bayonets. Is it not +so, Captain?" + +"As you say, Excellency. But the traders in the town. What of +them?" + +The Governor looked puzzled for an instant. He could not quite +remember what had happened to those jovial men who had cheered him +over night. Judson interrupted swiftly: "His Excellency has set +them to forced works on barracks and magazines, and, I think, a +custom-house. When that is done they will be released, I hope, +Excellency." + +"Yes, they shall be released for your sake, little Judson of my +heart." Then they drank the health of their respective sovereigns, +while Mr. Davies superintended the removal of the scarred plank +and the shot-marks on the deck and the bow-plates. + +"Oh, this is too bad," said Judson when they went on deck. "That +idiot has exceeded his instructions, but - but yow must let me pay +for this!" + +Mr. Davies, his legs in the water as he sat on a staging slung +over the bows, was acutely conscious that he was being blamed in a +foreign tongue. He smiled uneasily, and went on with his work. + +"What is it?" said the Governor. + +"That thick-head has thought that we needed some gold-leaf, and he +has borrowed that from your storeroom, but I must make it good." +Then in English, "Stand up, Mr. Davies. What the - in - do you +mean by taking their gold-leaf? My -, are we a set of pirates to +scrape the guts out of a Levantine bumboat? Look contrite, you +butt-ended, broad-breeched, bottle-bellied, swivel-eyed son of a +tinker, you! My Soul alive, can't I maintain discipline in my own +ship without a blacksmith of a boiler-riveter putting me to shame +before a yellow-nosed picaroon. Get off the staging, Mr. Davies, +and go to the engine-room. Put down that leaf first, though, and +leave the books where they are. I'll send for you in a minute. Go +aft!" + +Now, only the upper half of Mr. Davies's round face was above the +bulwarks when this torrent of abuse descended upon him; and it +rose inch by inch as the shower continued: blank amazement, +bewilderment, rage, and injured pride chasing each other across it +till he saw his superior officer's left eyelid flutter on the +cheek twice. Then he fled to the engine-room, and wiping his brow +with a handful of cotton-waste, sat down to overtake +circumstances. + +"I am desolated," said Judson to his companions, "but you see the +material that you give us. This leaves me more in your debt than +before. The stuff I can replace" (gold-leaf is never carried on +floating gun-platforms), "but for the insolence of that man how +shall I apologise?" + +Mr. Davies's mind moved slowly, but after a while he transferred +the cotton-waste from his forehead to his mouth and bit on it to +prevent laughter. He began a second dance on the engine-room +plates. "Neat! Oh, damned neat!" he chuckled. "I've served with a +good few, but there never was one so neat as him. And I thought he +was the new kind that don't know how to put a few words, as it +were!" + +"Mr. Davies, you can continue your work," said Judson down the +engine-room hatch. "These officers have been good enough to speak +in your favour. Make a thorough job of it while you are about it. +Slap on every man you have. Where did you get hold of it?" + +"Their storeroom is a regular theatre, sir. You couldn't miss it. +There's enough for two first-rates, and I've scoffed the best half +of it." + +"Look sharp, then. We shall be coaling from her this afternoon. +You'll have to cover it all." + +"Neat! Oh, damned neat!" said Mr. Davies under his breath, as he +gathered his subordinates together, and set about accomplishing +the long-deferred wish of Judson's heart. + +It was the "Martin Frobisher", the flag-ship, a great war-boat +when she was new, in the days when men built for sail as well as +for steam. She could turn twelve knots under full sail, and it was +under that that she stood up the mouth of the river, a pyramid of +silver beneath the moon. The Admiral, fearing that he had given +Judson a task beyond his strength, was coming to look for him, and +incidentally to do a little diplomatic work along the coast. There +was hardly wind enough to move the "Frobisher" a couple of knots +an hour, and the silence of the land closed about her as she +entered the fairway. Her yards sighed a little from time to time, +and the ripple under her bows answered the sigh. The full moon +rose over the steaming swamps, and the Admiral, gazing upon it, +thought less of Judson and more of the softer emotions. In answer +to the very mood of his mind, there floated across the silver +levels of the water, mellowed by distance to a most poignant +sweetness, the throb of a mandolin, and the voice of one who +called upon a genteel Julia - upon Julia, and upon love. The song +ceased, and the sighing of the yards was all that broke the +silence of the big ship. + +Again the mandolin began, and the commander on the lee side of the +quarter-deck grinned a grin that was reflected in the face of the +signal-midshipman. Not a word of the song was lost, and the voice +of the singer was the voice of Judson. + +"Last week down our alley came a toff, +Nice old geyser with a nasty cough, +Sees my missus, takes his topper off, +Quite in a gentlemanly way " - + +and so on to the end of the verse. The chorus was borne by several +voices, and the signal-midshipman's foot began to tap the deck +furtively. + +"'What cheer!' all the neighbours cried. +''Oo are you going to meet, Bill? +'Ave you bought the street, Bill?' +Laugh? - I thought I should ha' died +When I knocked 'em in the old Kent Road." + + +It was the Admiral's gig, rowing softly, that came into the midst +of that merry little smoking-concert. It was Judson, the +beribboned mandolin round his neck, who received the Admiral as he +came up the side of the "Guadala", and it may or may not have been +the Admiral who stayed till two in the morning and delighted the +hearts of the Captain and the Governor. He had come as an unbidden +guest, and he departed as an honoured one, but strictly unofficial +throughout. Judson told his tale next day in the Admiral's cabin +as well as he could in the face of the Admiral's gales of +laughter, but the most amazing tale was that told by Mr. Davies to +his friends in the dockyard at Simon's Town from the point of view +of a second-class engine-room artificer, all unversed in +diplomacy. + +And if there be no truth either in my tale, which is Judson's +tale, or the tale of Mr. Davies, you will not find in harbour at +Simon's Town to-day a flat-bottomed twin-screw gunboat, designed +solely for the defence of rivers, about two hundred and seventy +tons' displacement and five feet draught, wearing in open defiance +of the rules of the Service a gold line on her gray paint. It +follows also that you will be compelled to credit that version of +the fray which, signed by His Excellency the Governor and +despatched in the "Guadala", satisfied the self-love of a great +and glorious people, and saved a monarchy from the ill-considered +despotism which is called a Republic. + + +A CONFERENCE OF THE POWERS +Life liveth but in life, and doth not roam +To other lands if all be well at home: +"Solid as ocean foam," quoth ocean foam. + +The room was blue with the smoke of three pipes and a cigar. The +leave-season had opened in India, and the first-fruits on this +side of the water were "Tick" Boileau, of the 45th Bengal Cavalry, +who called on me, after three years' absence, to discuss old +things which had happened. Fate, who always does her work +handsomely, sent up the same staircase within the same hour The +Infant, fresh from Upper Burma, and he and Boileau looking out of +my window saw walking in the street one Nevin, late in a Goorkha +regiment which had been through the Black Mountain Expedition. +They yelled to him to come up, and the whole Street was aware that +they desired him to come up, and he came up, and there followed +Pandemonium in my room because we had foregathered from the ends +of the earth, and three of us were on a holiday, and none of us +were twenty-five, and all the delights of all London lay waiting +our pleasure. + +Boileau took the only other chair, The Infant, by right of his +bulk, the sofa; and Nevin, being a little man, sat cross-legged on +the top of the revolving bookcase, and we all said, "Who'd ha' +thought it!" and "What are you doing here?" till speculation was +exhausted and the talk went over to inevitable "shop." Boileau was +full of a great scheme for winning a military attach-ship at St. +Petersburg; Nevin had hopes of the Staff College, and The Infant +had been moving heaven and earth and the Horse Guards for a +commission in the Egyptian army. + +"What's the use o' that?" said Nevin, twirling round on the +bookcase. + +"Oh, heaps! 'Course if you get stuck with a Fellaheen regiment, +you're sold; but if you are appointed to a Soudanese lot, you're +in clover. They are first-class fighting-men - and just think of +the eligible central position of Egypt in the next row!" + +This was putting the match to a magazine. We all began to explain +the Central Asian question off-hand, flinging army corps from the +Helmund to Kashmir with more than Russian recklessness. Each of +the boys made for himself a war to his own liking, and when we had +settled all the details of Armageddon, killed all our senior +officers, handled a division apiece, and nearly torn the atlas in +two in attempts to explain our theories, Boileau needs must lift +up his voice above the clamour, and cry, "Anyhow it'll be the hell +of a row!" in tones that carried conviction far down the +staircase. + +Entered, unperceived in the smoke, William the Silent. "Gen'elman +to see you, sir," said he, and disappeared, leaving in his stead +none other than Mr. Eustace Cleever. William would have introduced +the Dragon of Wantley with equal disregard of present company. + +"I - I beg your pardon. I didn't know that there was anybody - +with you. -" + +But it was not seemly to allow Mr. Cleever to depart; he was a +great man. The boys remained where they were, for any movement +would have choked up the little room. Only when they saw his gray +hairs they stood on their feet, and when The Infant caught the +name, he said: + +"Are you - did you write that book called 'As it was in the +Beginning'?" + +Mr. Cleever admitted that he had written the book. + +"Then - then I don't know how to thank you, sir," said The Infant, +flushing pink. "I was brought up in the country you wrote about - +all my people live there; and I read the book in camp on the +Hlinedatalone, and I knew every stick and stone, and the dialect +too; and, by Jove! it was just like being at home and hearing the +country people talk. Nevin, you know 'As it was in the Beginning'? +So does Ti - Boileau." + +Mr. Cleever has tasted as much praise, public and private, as one +man may safely swallow; but it seemed to me that the outspoken +admiration in The Infant's eyes and the little stir in the little +company came home to him very nearly indeed. + +"Won't you take the sofa?" said The Infant. "I'll sit on Boileau's +chair, and -" here he looked at me to spur me to my duties as a +host; but I was watching the novelist's face. Cleever had not the +least intention of going away, but settled himself on the sofa. + +Following the first great law of the Army, which says "all +property is common except money, and you've only got to ask the +next man for that," The Infant offered tobacco and drink. It was +the least he could do; but not the most lavish praise in the world +held half as much appreciation and reverence as The Infant's +simple "Say when, sir," above the long glass. + +Cleever said "when," and more thereto, for he was a golden talker, +and he sat in the midst of hero-worship devoid of all taint of +self-interest. The boys asked him of the birth of his book, and +whether it was hard to write, and how his notions came to him; and +he answered with the same absolute simplicity as he was +questioned. His big eyes twinkled, he dug his long thin hands into +his gray beard and tugged it as he grew animated. He dropped +little by little from the peculiar pinching of the broader vowels +- the indefinable "euh," that runs through the speech of the +pundit caste - and the elaborate choice of words, to freely- +mouthed "ows" and "ois," and, for him at least, unfettered +colloquialisms. He could not altogether understand the boys, who +hung upon his +words so reverently. The line of the chin-strap, that still showed +white and untanned on cheekbone and jaw, the steadfast young eyes +puckered at the corners of the lids with much staring through red- +hot sunshine, the slow, untroubled breathing, and the curious, +crisp, curt speech seemed to puzzle him equally. He could create +men and women, and send them to the uttermost ends of the earth, +to help, delight, and comfort; he knew every mood of the fields, +and could interpret them to the cities, and he knew the hearts of +many in city and country, but he had hardly, in forty years, come +into contact with the thing which is called a Subaltern of the +Line. He told the boys this in his own way. + +"Well, how should you?" said The Infant. "You - you're quite +different, y' see, sir." + +The Infant expressed his ideas in his tone rather than his words, +but Cleever understood the compliment. + +"We're only Subs," said Nevin, "and we aren't exactly the sort of +men you'd meet much in your life, I s'pose." + +"That's true," said Cleever. "I live chiefly among men who write, +and paint, and sculp, and so forth. We have our own talk and our +own interests, and the outer world doesn't trouble us much." + +"That must be awfully jolly," said Boileau, at a venture. "We have +our own shop, too, but 'tisn't half as interesting as yours, of +course. You know all the men who've ever done anything; and we +only knock about from place to place, and we do nothing." + +"The Army's a very lazy profession if you choose to make it so," +said Nevin. "When there's nothing going on, there is nothing going +on, and you lie up." + +"Or try to get a billet somewhere, to be ready for the next show," +said The Infant with a chuckle. + +"To me," said Cleever softly, "the whole idea of warfare seems so +foreign and unnatural, so essentially vulgar, if I may say so, +that I can hardly appreciate your sensations. Of course, though, +any change from idling in garrison towns must be a godsend to +you." + +Like many home-staying Englishmen, Cleever believed that the +newspaper phrase he quoted covered the whole duty of the Army +whose toils enabled him to enjoy his many-sided life in peace. The +remark was not a happy one, for Boileau had just come off the +Frontier, The Infant had been on the warpath for nearly eighteen +months, and the little red man Nevin two months before had been +sleeping under the stars at the peril of his life. But none of +them tried to explain, till I ventured to point out that they had +all seen service and were not used to idling. Cleever took in the +idea slowly. + +"Seen service?" said he. Then, as a child might ask, "Tell me. +Tell me everything about everything." + +"How do you mean?" said The Infant, delighted at being directly +appealed to by the great man. + +"Good Heavens! How am I to make you understand, if you can't see. +In the first place, what is your age?" + +"Twenty-three next July," said The Infant promptly. + +Cleever questioned the others with his eyes. + +"I'm twenty-four," said Nevin. + +"And I'm twenty-two," said Boileau. + +"And you've all seen service?" + +"We've all knocked about a little bit, sir, but The Infant's the +war-worn veteran. He's had two years' work in Upper Burma," said +Nevin. + +"When you say work, what do you mean, you extraordinary +creatures?" + +"Explain it, Infant," said Nevin. + +"Oh, keeping things in order generally, and running about after +little dakus - that's dacoits -and so on. There's nothing to +explain." + +"Make that young Leviathan speak," said Cleever impatiently, above +his glass. + +"How can he speak?" said I. "He's done the work. The two don't go +together. But, Infant, you're ordered to bukb." + +"What about? I'll try." + +"Bukb about a daur. You've been on heaps of 'em," said Nevin. + +"What in the world does that mean? Has the Army a language of its +own?" + +The Infant turned very red. He was afraid he was being laughed at, +and he detested talking before outsiders; but it was the author of +"As it was in the Beginning" who waited. + +"It's all so new to me," pleaded Cleever; "and - and you said you +liked my book." +- +This was a direct appeal that The Infant could understand, and he +began rather flurriedly, with much slang bred of nervousness - + +"Pull me up, sir, if I say anything you don't follow. About six +months before I took my leave out of Burma, I was on the +Hlinedatalone, up near the Shan States, with sixty Tommies - +private soldiers, that is - and another subaltern, a year senior +to me. The Burmese business was a subaltern's war, and our forces +were split up into little detachments, all running about the +country and trying to keep the dacoits quiet. The dacoits were +having a first-class time, y' know -filling women up with kerosene +and setting 'em alight, and burning villages, and crucifying +people." + +The wonder in Eustace Cleever's eyes deepened. He could not quite +realise that the cross still existed in any form. + +"Have you ever seen a crucifixion?" said he. + +"Of course not. 'Shouldn't have allowed it if I had; but I've seen +the corpses. The dacoits had a trick of sending a crucified corpse +down the river on a raft, just to show they were keeping their +tail up and enjoying themselves. Well, that was the kind of people +I had to deal with." + +"Alone?" said Cleever. Solitude of the soul he could understand - +none better - but he had never in the body moved ten miles from +his fellows. + +"I had my men, but the rest of it was pretty much alone. The +nearest post that could give me orders was fifteen miles away, and +we used to heliograph to them, and they used to give us orders +same way - too many orders." + +"Who was your C. 0.?" said Boileau. + +"Bounderby - Major. Pukka Bounderby; more Bounder than pukka. He +went out up Bhamo way. Shot, or cut down, last year," said The +Infant. + +"What are these interludes in a strange tongue?" said Cleever to +me. + +"Professional information - like the Mississippi pilots' talk," +said I. "He did not approve of his major, who died a violent +death. Go on, Infant." + +"Far too many orders. You couldn't take the Tommies out for a two +days' daur -that's expedition - without being blown up for not +asking leave. And the whole country was humming with dacoits. I +used to send out spies, and act on their information. As soon as a +man came in and told me of a gang in hiding, I'd take thirty men +with some grub, and go out and look for them, while the other +subaltern lay doggo in camp." + +"Lay! Pardon me, but how did he lie?" said Cleever. + +"Lay doggo - lay quiet, with the other thirty men. When I came +back, he'd take out his half of the men, and have a good time of +his own." + +"Who was he?" said Boileau. + +"Carter-Deecey, of the Aurungabadis. Good chap, but too +zubberdusty, and went bokhar four days out of seven. He's gone out +too. Don't interrupt a man." + +Cleever looked helplessly at me. + +"The other subaltern," I translated swiftly, "came from a native +regiment, and was overbearing in his demeanour. He suffered much +from the fever of the country, and is now dead. Go on, Infant." + +"After a bit, we got into trouble for using the men on frivolous +occasions, and so I used to put my signaller under arrest to +prevent him reading the helio-orders. Then I'd go out and leave a +message to be sent an hour after I got clear of the camp, +something like this: 'Received important information; start in an +hour, unless countermanded.' If I was ordered back, it didn't much +matter. I swore the C. 0.'s watch was wrong, or something, when I +came back. The Tommies enjoyed the fun, and - Oh, yes, there was +one Tommy who was the bard of the detachment. He used to make up +verses on everything that happened." + +"What sort of verses?" said Cleever. + +"Lovely verses; and the Tommies used to sing 'em. There was one +song with a chorus, and it said something like this." The Infant +dropped into the true barrack-room twang: + +"Theebaw, the Burma king, did a very foolish thing, +When 'e mustered 'ostile forces in ar-rai, +'E little thought that we, from far across the sea, +Would send our armies up to Mandalai!" + +"0 gorgeous !" said Cleever. "And how magnificently direct! The +notion of a regimental bard is new to me, but of course it must be +so." + +"He was awfly popular with the men," said The Infant. "He had them +all down in rhyme as soon as ever they had done anything. He was a +great bard. He was always ready with an elegy when we picked up a +Boh - that's a leader of dacoits." + +"How did you pick him up?" said Cleever. + +"Oh! shot him if he wouldn't surrender." + +"You! Have you shot a man?" + +There was a subdued chuckle from all three boys, and it dawned on +the questioner that one experience in life which was denied to +himself, and he weighed the souls of men in a balance, had been +shared by three very young gentlemen of engaging appearance. He +turned round on Nevin, who had climbed to the top of the bookcase +and was sitting cross-legged as before. + +"And have you, too?" + +"Think so," said Nevin, sweetly. "In the Black Mountain. He was +rolling cliffs on to my half-company, and spoiling our formation. +I took a rifle from a man, and brought him down at the second +shot." + +"Good Heavens! And how did you feel afterwards?" + +"Thirsty. I wanted a smoke, too." + +Cleever looked at Boileau - the youngest. Surely his hands were +guiltless of blood. + +Boileau shook his head and laughed. "Go on, Infant," said he. + +"And you too?" said Cleever. + +"Fancy so. It was a case of cut, cut or be cut, with me; so I cut +- one. I couldn't do any more, sir." + +Cleever looked as though he would like to ask many questions, but +The Infant swept on in the full tide of his tale. + +"Well, we were called insubordinate young whelps at last, and +strictly forbidden to take the Tommies out any more without +orders. I wasn't sorry, because Tommy is such an exacting sort of +creature. He wants to live as though he were in barracks all the +time. I was grubbing on fowls and boiled corn, but the Tommies +wanted their pound of fresh meat, and their half ounce of this, +and their two ounces of t'other thing, and they used to come to me +and badger me for plug tobacco when we were four days in jungle. I +said: 'I can get you Burma tobacco, but I don't keep a canteen up +my sleeve.' They couldn't see it. They wanted all the luxuries of +the season, confound 'em!" + +"You were alone when you were dealing with these men?" said +Cleever, watching The Infant's face under the palm of his hand. He +was receiving new ideas, and they seemed to trouble him. + +"Of course, unless you count the mosquitoes. They were nearly as +big as the men. After I had to lie doggo I began to look for +something to do, and I was great pals with a man called Hicksey in +the Police, the best man that ever stepped on earth; a first-class +man." + +Cleever nodded applause. He knew how to appreciate enthusiasm. + +"Hicksey and I were as thick as thieves. He had some Burma mounted +police - rummy chaps, armed with sword and Snider carbine. They +rode punchy Burma ponies, with string stirrups, red cloth saddles, +and red bell-rope headstalls. Hicksey used to lend me six or eight +of them when I asked him - nippy little devils, keen as mustard. +But they told their wives too much, and all my plans got known, +till I learned to give false marching orders overnight, and take +the men to quite a different village in the morning. Then we used +to catch the simple daku before breakfast, and made him very sick. +It's a ghastly country on the Hlinedatalone; all bamboo jungle, +with paths about four feet wide winding through it. The daku knew +all the paths, and potted at us as we came round a corner; but the +mounted police knew the paths as well as the daku, and we used to +go stalking 'em in and out. Once we flushed 'em, the men on the +ponies had the advantage of the men on foot. We held all the +country absolutely quiet for ten miles round, in about a month. +Then we took Boh Na-ghee, Hicksey and I and the civil officer. +That was a lark!" + +"I think I am beginning to understand a little," said Cleever. "It +was a pleasure to you to administer and fight?" + +"Rather! There's nothing nicer than a satisfactory little +expedition, when you find your plans fit together, and your +information's teek - correct, you know, and the whole sub-chiz - I +mean, when everything works out like formulae on a blackboard. +Hicksey had all the information about the Boh. He had been burning +villages and murdering people right and left, and cutting up +Government convoys, and all that. He was lying doggo in a village +about fifteen miles off, waiting to get a fresh gang together. So +we arranged to take thirty mounted police, and turn him out before +he could plunder into our newly-settled villages. At the last +minute, the civil officer in our part of the world thought he'd +assist at the performance." + +"Who was he?" said Nevin. + +"His name was Dennis," said The Infant slowly. "And we'll let it +stay so. He's a better man now than he was then." + +"But how old was the civil power?" said Cleever. "The situation is +developing itself." + +"He was about six-and-twenty, and he was awf'ly clever. He knew a +lot of things, but I don't think he was quite steady enough for +dacoit-hunting. We started overnight for Boh Na-ghee's village, +and we got there just before morning, without raising an alarm. +Dennis had turned out armed to his teeth - two revolvers, a +carbine, and all sorts of things. I was talking to Hicksey about +posting the men, and Dennis edged his pony in between us, and +said, 'What shall I do? What shall I do? Tell me what to do, you +fellows.' We didn't take much notice; but his pony tried to bite +me in the leg, and I said, 'Pull out a bit, old man, till we've +settled the attack.' He kept edging in, and fiddling with his +reins and his revolvers, and saying, 'Dear me! Dear me! Oh, dear +me! What do you think I'd better do?' The man was in a deadly +funk, and his teeth were chattering." + +"I sympathise with the civil power," said Cleever. "Continue, +young Clive." + +"The fun of it was, that he was supposed to be our superior +officer. Hicksey took a good look at him, and told him to attach +himself to my party. Beastly mean of Hicksey, that. The chap kept +on edging in and bothering, instead of asking for some men and +taking up his own position, till I got angry, and the carbines +began popping on the other side of the village. Then I said, 'For +God's sake be quiet, and sit down where you are! If you see +anybody come out of the village, shoot at him.' I knew he couldn't +hit a hayrick at a yard. Then I took my men over the garden wall - +over the palisades, y' know - somehow or other, and the fun began. +Hicksey had found the Boh in bed under a mosquito-curtain, and he +had taken a flying jump on to him." + +"A flying jump!" said Cleever. "Is that also war?" + +"Yes," said The Infant, now thoroughly warmed. "Don't you know how +you take a flying jump on to a fellow's head at school, when he +snores in the dormitory? The Boh was sleeping in a bedful of +swords and pistols, and Hicksey came down like Zazel through the +netting, and the net got mixed up with the pistols and the Boh and +Hicksey, and they all rolled on the floor together. I laughed till +I couldn't stand, and Hicksey was cursing me for not helping him; +so I left him to fight it out and went into the village. Our men +were slashing about and firing, and so were the dacoits, and in +the thick of the mess some ass set fire to a house, and we all had +to clear out. I froze on to the nearest daku and ran to the +palisade, shoving him in front of me. He wriggled loose and +bounded over the other side. I came after him; but when I had one +leg one side and one leg the other of the palisade, I saw that the +daku had fallen flat on Dennis's head. That man had never moved +from where I left him. They rolled on the ground together, and +Dennis's carbine went off and nearly shot me. The daku picked +himself up and ran, and Dennis buzzed his carbine after him, and +it caught him on the back of his head and knocked him silly. You +never saw anything so funny in your life. I doubled up on the top +of the palisade and hung there, yelling with laughter. But Dennis +began to weep like anything. 'Oh, I've killed a man,' he said. +'I've killed a man, and I shall never know another peaceful hour +in my life. Is he dead? Oh, is he dead? Good Lord, I've killed a +man!' I came down and said, 'Don't be a fool;' but he kept on +shouting, 'Is he dead?' till I could have kicked him. The daku was +only knocked out of time with the carbine. He came to after a bit, +and I said, 'Are you hurt much?' He groaned and said, 'No.' His +chest was all cut with scrambling over the palisade. 'The white +man's gun didn't do that,' he said; 'I did that, and I knocked the +white man over.' Just like a Burman, wasn't it? But Dennis +wouldn't be happy at any price. He said: +'Tie up his wounds. He'll bleed to death. Oh, he'll bleed to +death!' 'Tie 'em up yourself,' I said, 'if you're so anxious.' 'I +can't touch him,' said Dennis, 'but here's my shirt.' He took off +his shirt, and fixed the braces again over his bare shoulders. I +ripped the shirt up, and bandaged the dacoit quite professionally. +He was grinning at Dennis all the time; and Dennis's haversack was +lying on the ground, bursting full of sandwiches. Greedy hog! I +took some, and offered some to Dennis. 'How can I eat?' he said. +'How can you ask me to eat? His very blood is on your hands now, +and you're eating my sandwiches!' 'All right,' I said; 'I'll give +'em to the daku.' So I did, and the little chap was quite pleased, +and wolfed 'em down like one o'clock." + +Cleever brought his hand down on the table with a thump that made +the empty glasses dance. "That's Art!" he said. "Flat, flagrant +mechanism! Don't tell me that happened on the spot!" + +The pupils of The Infant's eyes contracted to two pin-points. "I +beg your pardon," he said slowly and stiffly, "but I am telling +this thing as it happened." + +Cleever looked at him a moment. "My fault entirely," said he; "I +should have known. Please go on." + +"Hicksey came out of what was left of the village with his +prisoners and captives, all neatly tied up. Boh Na-ghee was first, +and one of the villagers, as soon as he found the old ruffian +helpless, began kicking him quietly. The Boh stood it as long as +he could, and then groaned, and we saw what was going on. Hicksey +tied the villager up and gave him a half a dozen, good, with a +bamboo, to remind him to leave a prisoner alone. You should have +seen the old Boh grin. Oh! but Hicksey was in a furious rage with +everybody. He'd got a wipe over the elbow that had tickled up his +funny-bone, and he was rabid with me for not having helped him +with the Boh and the mosquito-net. I had to explain that I +couldn't do anything. If you'd seen 'em both tangled up together +on the floor in one kicking cocoon, you'd have laughed for a week. +Hicksey swore that the only decent man of his acquaintance was the +Boh, and all the way to camp Hicksey was talking to the Boh, and +the Boh was complaining about the soreness of his bones. When we +got back, and had had a bath, the Boh wanted to know when he was +going to be hanged. Hicksey said he couldn't oblige him on the +spot, but had to send him to Rangoon. The Boh went down on his +knees, and reeled off a catalogue of his crimes - he ought to have +been hanged seventeen times over, by his own confession - and +implored Hicksey to settle the business out of hand. 'If I'm sent +to Rangoon,' said he, 'they'll keep me in jail all my life, and +that is a death every time the sun gets up or the wind blows.' But +we had to send him to Rangoon, and, of course, he was let off down +there, and given penal servitude for life. When I came to Rangoon +I went over the jail - I had helped to fill it, +y' know - and the old Boh was there, and he spotted me at once. He +begged for some opium first, and I tried to get him some, but that +was against the rules. Then he asked me to have his Sentence +changed to death, because he was afraid of being sent to the +Andamans. I couldn't do that either, but I tried to cheer him, and +told him how things were going up-country, and the last thing he +said was - 'Give my compliments to the fat white man who jumped on +me. If I'd been awake I'd have killed him.' I wrote that to +Hicksey next mail, and - and that's all. I'm 'fraid I've been +gassing awf'ly, sir." + +Cleever said nothing for a long time. The Infant looked +uncomfortable. He feared that, misled by enthusiasm, he had filled +up the novelist's time with unprofitable recital of trivial +anecdotes. + +Then said Cleever, "I can't understand. Why should you have seen +and done all these things before you have cut your wisdom-teeth?" + +"Don't know," said The Infant apologetically. "I haven't seen much +- only Burmese jungle." + +"And dead men, and war, and power, and responsibility," said +Cleever, under his breath. "You won't have any sensations left at +thirty, if you go on as you have done. But I want to hear more +tales - more tales!" He seemed to forget that even subalterns +might have engagements of their own. + +"We're thinking of dining out somewhere - the lot of us - and +going on to the Empire afterwards," said Nevin, with hesitation. +He did not like to ask Cleever to come too. The invitation might +be regarded as perilously near to "cheek." +And Cleever, anxious not to wag a gray beard unbidden among boys +at large, said nothing on his side. + +Boileau solved the little difficulty by blurting out: "Won't you +come too, sir?" + +Cleever almost shouted "Yes," and while he was being helped into +his coat continued to murmur "Good Heavens!" at intervals in a way +that the boys could not understand. + +"I don't think I've been to the Empire in my life," said he; "but +- what is my life after all? Let us go." + +They went out with Eustace Cleever, and I sulked at home because +they had come to see me, but had gone over to the better man; +which was humiliating. They packed him into a cab with utmost +reverence, for was he not the author of "As it was in the +Beginning," and a person in whose company it was an honour to go +abroad? From all I gathered later, he had taken less interest in +the performance before him than in their conversations, and they +protested with emphasis that he was "as good a man as they make; +knew what a man was driving at almost before he said it; and yet +he's so damned simple about things any man knows." That was one of +many comments. + +At midnight they returned, announcing that they were "highly +respectable gondoliers," and that oysters and stout were what they +chiefly needed. The eminent novelist was still with them, and I +think he was calling them by their shorter names. I am certain +that he said he had been moving in worlds not realised, and that +they had shown him the Empire in a new light. + +Still sore at recent neglect, I answered shortly, "Thank Heaven we +have within the land ten thousand as good as they," and when he +departed, asked him what he thought of things generally. + +He replied with another quotation, to the effect that though +singing was a remarkably fine performance, I was to be quite sure +that few lips would be moved to song if they could find a +sufficiency of kissing. + +Whereby I understood that Eustace Cleever, decorator and colourman +in words, was blaspheming his own Art, and would be sorry for this +in the morning. + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Soldiers Three by Rudyard Kipling + diff --git a/old/2000-06-sldr310.zip b/old/2000-06-sldr310.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..45f8530 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/2000-06-sldr310.zip |