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diff --git a/2227-h/2227-h.htm b/2227-h/2227-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a8e710b --- /dev/null +++ b/2227-h/2227-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8501 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Soldiers Three, Part II. by Rudyard Kipling + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +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 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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